Tragedy, a Portuguese state of mind

The other day I saw a TV programme (Portuguese) where they interviewed an Italian lady living in Portugal for several years. What she said next is an amazing illustration of the Portuguese approach to life. She said, you ask a Portuguese how he/she is doing. The answer is: "Oh! so so", "One day after the other", "Could go better". You should read this with a miserable face. You ask an Italian how he/she is doing. The answer is: "Excellent", "Perfect", Doing really well".
Bottomline, Portuguese always look miserable, Italians always look in perfect shape.
It must be our "fado", this Portuguese tragedy, that never allows us to be well, perfect, fantastic. There is always something wrong. Be happy is not an option. You are OK, then there must be something really wrong.
This leads me to my personal experience. What do I fear most: chemo or family reaction? Family reaction. In two days I was able to transform my sisters though. I think that my positive and practical approach to the situation left them with no alternative. Not to mention the very clear message that anyone approaching my hospital bed crying or sighting would be stopped by the nurses. But my mum! Oulala. She loves me and I love her, but she will want to visit me already with a priest on her side. Cancer doesn't match with cure. Apart that from all the cases around us with cancer she will be able to think at every single one that turned wrong. The successful cases are not part of our tragic mind.
Don't forget that I come from a village. You are sick? Then you stay home crying all day feeling really shitty. There is no way you go out and feel OK.
I must be the NEW Portuguese. Misery doesn't match with me. Tragedy may even play its tune when I listen to a "fado" (try Amalia Rodrigues, O Medo - fear) but it stops there. For me things can go well, especially until further notice. Right now I am ok, should I feel miserable? Chemo is going to be really rough, should I worry now? One thing at the time.
Challenge: if I transform my mum, it is half way to beat this lymphoma.

Amalia Rodrigues - O Medo

Who sleeps at night with me?
Who sleeps at night with me?
It is my secret, it is my secret
But if you insist I will tell you
Fear lives with me, fear lives with me
But only fear, only fear
(...)
Cry those who can save me
From what is inside me, I would even like to kill myself
but I know that he will wait for me, near the bridge of the end.