My mother is suffering from depression.  The only thing we can do is to listen, give her advice that she'll ask for but never take, watch her fall, and collect the pieces when it's all over--just like how it was with Grandma.  Like mother, like daughter.   My own fate is questionable.

From mom's blood test results, she may possibly have liver cancer--or best case scenario, hepatitis, which wouldn't be a surprise considering how my dad is a hepatitis b carrier, and will probably develop liver problems later on himself if he isn't already on his way there now due to his lifestyle of decadence and poor genetics.

Right, and my parents are apparently in a dispassionate marriage on the brink of divorce.  According to mom when she had a mental breakdown last night, they're "strangers living in the same house"--which compelled me to awkwardly hug her for the first time in over ten years when she started crying (physical displays of affection are rare in our household).

There's a myriad of other things I would rather not go into, but yes, that's life.  On the bright side, the possibilities haven't become realities yet.  

Home sweet home.