We've all heard it, perhaps even said it: life's not fair.
It's not fair that my mom got ALS. It's not fair that this woman, one of the first women in the Army, the woman who volunteered to go to Iraq as a civilian (at 50 something) because she knew she could be of help, the woman who is always looking for the next challenge, is going to have her muscles slowly atrophy. She wears a brace to keep her feet from tripping her since the muscles other wise would allow her feet to flop. She still gets around, with support from my father or a walker. A wheelchair will eventually be needed.
It's not fair that the prognosis is estimating that she has 3-5 years left, with no guarantee on the quality of her life. It is a progressive disease.
It's not fair that my son will not remember her, except through the stories and pictures we take now.
It's not fair that my dad, in his 70s, has to look forward to ever increasing responsibilities as her caregiver, rather than peaceful retirement.
It's not fair, any of it.