We've been struggling for the last two years with Anne's father's health-he's been in and out of the VA Hospital (more in than out). We celebrated his 89th birthday during Rosh Hashanah. He didn't look well, but he was home, and that was a blessing.
Tuesday he had two incidents of cardiac arrest. We spent Tuesday and most of Wednesday at the hospital. Anne's going in today, and we're both going in on Sunday.
So much of our conversation has revolved around the big issues (please, please don't ever let me be on a ventilator) and the mundane (where will we sit shiva? how many people will we feed after the funeral?)
Jerry will probably die this week at the age of 89. The weird thing about Jerry is that many years ago, a palmist reading his palm told him he'd live to be 89-which is also the age at which his mother, Nanny, died. We had a big party for her 89th and that was it!
Our friend Donna died in May at the age of 53. You never really know, do you?