We sat out in the sun with Mother yesterday, admiring the autumn colors and marveling at the occasional lucid remark she made. Usually she starts out with one of her characteristic preambles, and then rambles into nonsense.
In her lap was her toy cat, bought by my sister in a hospital gift shop, a very realistic-looking specimen with a battery-powered belly that moves as though it were just sleeping. If only we could just change our batteries and go on.
Back in her room as we washed her hands for dinner, I think she was beginning to feel a little...um...fussed-over, and she told me to "shut up a minute" which gave Judy and me the giggles.
We were up before dawn this morning to hit the road to Austin, where our cousin Gene the oilman is failing fast. He had been diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, but now the doctors have found cancer in his lungs and liver, and we are essentially going there to say goodbye although nobody has come out and said so.