The sick-bed of Cú Chulainn

Went with my brother in law J and visited a friend of ours who was diagnosed with a brain tumour a couple of weeks ago. She had been suffering from dizzy eyesight since a couple of months, and when her short-term memory and orientation started to deteriorate they took her in for a brain scan, and found an apparently large, inoperable tumour. Her acute problems went away with cortison, though, because they were caused not by the tumour directly but by the swelling it caused. The biopsy was performed last week and she is supposed to be told the results today and then, when they know what kind of beast they're dealing with, they will piece together a treatment plan. I cross my fingers and hope for the best, but from what a cursory googling tells me, inoperable brain tumours are generally very difficult to treat successfully. However, we don't know yet how bad this one is.

She was nervous, of course, but mostly bored with being confined to a bed. (But she had an impressive bandage around her head, any sheik would be green with envy.) We talked for an hour about the Tolkien Society, mostly. I think they are going to send her home in a couple of days; there's not much more to be done until the treatment begins. She's single - has always been, afaik (she's 58) - and has no sisters or brothers that I know of. Her mom is still alive, though. It's good that she has a large network of friends to support her. It must be even worse going through something like this all by yourself.