End Game Maybe

Wifey and I loaded the spoiled Spaniel and stange indeterminate dogs into the little girlie Lexus, and headed to MJH for a Sunday visit to the Olds. We planned to each fetch our parent, and meet at the gazebo. I took Vienna the strange dog and headed to see Mom. Most of her floormates were lined up watching an old movie on TV, but Mom was still in bed. One of the nice Haitian nurses saw me and said she wasn't feeling well, and wished to stay in bed. Vienna and I found her there, fitfully sleeping. She awoke, barely, when Vienna licked her hand. She was mostly out of it. I tried to talk with her, but all she could muster were a few non sequiters... and then the hallucinations kicked in. She asked me why "grandpa was still building the tent" and whether my "son was still sick." Wifey called on the cell to report that she had arrived with her father under the huge tree. I met them, and explained that Sunny wasn't up to joining us. My father in law looked hale and hearty, but asked after my mother 10 times. Ah, Alzheimers... Wifey wanted to visit Mom, and she did. She returned to the patio teary eyed. She thinks the end may be near. Who knows? We spent some more time with my father in law. He loved having the Spaniel in his lap -- petting her. Wifey took him back to his room, and I waited under the gazebo. I treated myself to one of Mom's beloved ice cream sandwiches. When she's up to going outside -- she savors them -- saying they're the "best ice cream I've ever had." Her toddler-like happiness is lovely. It wasn't to be today. Wifey and I drove to Harry's Pizzeria, and shared a few small pies outside, on N Miam Avenue. We watched the hipsters and their kids walk in and out. An adorable little girl, face painted from a Batman party, petted the dogs and giggled. The juxtaposition is so funny to me. My Mom's mother used to live in Old People Land -- South Beach. 10th and Collins was where the "EdVard Hotel," as she pronounced it, held Anna and many of her compadres. Now South Beach is the epicenter of cool. No old folks live there. 30 years later, Mom lives in a nursing home just blocks from the coolest parts of Miami -- Design District and Wynwood. And she's totally oblivious... I spoke to Dr. Eric about medical issues surrounding the endgame. He was so warm, caring, and informative. His patients are lucky to have him. He deals with so many VERY old folks -- he's truly expert in the final days... Of course, I'll stick to his plan. He reassured me that as long as Mom isn't in physical pain, which she thankfully isn't, she's not suffering. She's just living in her alternative consciousness, or consciousnesses...The suffering is for her family watching her slip away.