This is a picture of my mom and Beth's fourteen year old son Kenny, following a performance of Titanic at the local theater. He has a solo singing part within a cast of talented adult performers, and shows remarkable poise for such a young kid. The dark glasses are a joke-they are 3D glasses given to us at a movie theater, but the old lady looks like the old Wendys commercial, eh?... Mom has begun to deteriorate noticeably in the past year, meaning that the good days are fewer and her general malaise has increased. She has been sleeping with oxygen since May and occasionally needs it during the day, and her ability to process conversation is definitely less than it was-never mind the hearing loss. She claims to not be afraid of death but thinks the dying process is not all that hot...There is always another infirmity slowing her down and recovery takes longer, although in her actions and willpower the balance must still be worth it, because she feels well enough most days to yet want to live. When you are 85 your life becomes talking about your latest illness and comparing doctor visits with your peers, and to my sister and I it seems a little pointless sometimes, as if there is an unspoken competition among old people to see who can live the longest, even if life is only sitting on the couch watching television or short excursions in the car. There seems to be an unwillingness among some of them to accept that one of these illnesses will be the last, and that there will be nothing more the doctor can do, and that maybe all the pills and money could be better spent. So far there have only been a few days when my mother felt bad enough that she said she wanted to die, so I guess that when those days become more numerous she will make up her mind to let go. As long as she can still do her crossword puzzles, and occasionally get out to work or to play bridge, then meandering around the house and falling asleep on the couch is life enough. She has never been a woman of deep religious nor spiritual faith, so does not see life and death in those terms, but was the primary caretaker of my ailing father, so has practical experience with end of life issues, just not her own. She says that she appreciates my attention and patience, but there is really not much I can do to help, for she is simply old, and as Jackson Browne wrote "In the end there is one dance you'll do alone" ...
