Anyhow, as part of the plot, we find out that Bette has a malignant brain tumour. The doctor doesn't tell her using the ridiculous rationale that he wants her final months to be happy. Exqueeze me? Are you kidding? In those old movies they did that a lot. Is that because they actually did that? I shudder to think.
If I was going to die in a few months, I'd do things so differently. I wouldn't want to go to work everyday like normal (assuming I was working, that is), cook, clean and help kids with homework. No effing way. I'd take the kids out of school the whole time I was well and blow what little money we have on a plane trip to Disney. I'd finally buy those Louboutins and wear them grocery shopping and cleaning. Yes, I'd still have to do a little of that but I'd do it with style. I'd eat out a lot, watch movies I always wanted to see and get loads of spa treatments. I'd buy a king sized bed and we'd all sleep, snuggle and hang out there.
Now that's what I'd do with my last days. And no 1930's style doctor is going to rob me of that.