Just got a call that my grandmother's in the ICU with heart and breathing problems. The words "no heroic measures" have been used.
She said a couple of weeks ago, before this latest ailment, that she's ready, that life isn't all that fulfilling when you're ninety and can't see to well, eat too well or walk too well. But she can still think and feel and imagine and love, and she has given so much love, genteel and quiet, to her often bitter and difficult family.
We're driving down tonight. Please let us make it in time. I'm just not ready to lose her, this sane and kind and intelligent and funny woman in her tiny, failing body.