Bad News

I received some bad news a few days ago. Bluntly put, my brother's cancer has returned for the third time. No more chemo or operations for him, the doctor has instead offered tablets which can only slow down the cancer's progress. He's feeling okay for now, and intends to carry on as normal for as long as he can. He seems quite resigned to the inevitable. He doesn't know how long he's got; two or three years, maybe. Everyone in the family knows about it, apart from our mother. Her dementia means she probably wouldn't understand anyway, and certainly once told she'd only forget about it again, minutes later, though her feelings of being sad (for reasons she could no longer remember) would linger, and so my brother doesn't want her to know.