Untitled, for now

One of my grandmothers is 86, or maybe 87 years old. Her one and only husband, the guy who married her as a young girl and stayed by her side their entire lives passed away from Parkinson's disease about 5 years ago. She has lived alone in their apartment ever since. Of course I say alone, but this 86, or 87 year old woman has more energy, and a more full social calendar than most people a third her age. I'm not joking, she never stops. Go, go, go. I've never heard her say she didn't want to go somewhere, no matter how far the drive, and I've never heard of her being sick or otherwise incapable of providing entirely for herself. She never asks for help.

Tonight I picked her up from the Cedar Sinai Cancer Center's outpatient infusion ward. She's gone through her second round of chemotherapy, and now spends hours almost everyday either getting more chemo, or like today, getting a "hydration." Apparently the hydration procedure puts water into the body - over a period of 4 hoours - to replace that which the chemo has burned out. So she sits in a chair with an IV attached to her arm, and the liquid slowly works it's way into her body. And, she's not the only one sitting there, certainly doesn't look the oldest, and is guaranteed to not be the youngest. Whatever it really does, it makes my grandmother feel better. But even at her best, and despite the odd fact that she looks the same to me, she is moving a whole lot slower. Some days her spirits are so low, I'm not really sure what to say to her. Tonight she was her old self again, motoring through topics of conversation like a reporter on speed.

"All my possessions for a moment of time."
Queen Elizabeth I