The first time I saw Olivia's mother after I was told "the news," I was shocked and surprised. Somehow the mental image I had built up of her was a frail and sickly invalid extracted from the real world to be confined to bed, a lone solider in combat with the arch enemy that threatened her life. I was not prepared to see a cancer sufferer diagnosed with seven months to live clad in a tiny bikini, actively participating in a cannon-bombing competition with 10-year-old boys. My initial astonishment was quickly replaced by guilt; why was I expecting the worst? What kind of person am I for no…
