Mom came home from work looking exhausted. Her eyes were sunken into dark sockets. All she wanted to do was sit o the couch and relax. She didn't want to eat either. Dad coaxed her to eat a bit of the left-over pasta with garden vegetables he had made Tuesday for dinner when Nichole had visited and stayed the night so she and Mom could drive to San Francisco together for a business meeting. He warmed it so so it was palatable, but not so hot it would trigger her nausea. She managed to eat a small portion which made Dad proud of her knowing that she didn't want to eat but needed to keep up her strength to fight the cancer. She went to be early. When Dad went upstairs he looked at Mom and cried. Her skin was grey. She looked really sick.
It is hard on Dad to see Mom so ill. He loves her almost as much as I do, which is a lot.
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