And it was. 5 days later. She was 82 and tired. She'd have been fine with going on but she was equally ok with its being the end. I do think it was interesting that she knew.
I wonder if I'll know. I wonder that a lot. The older I get the more I wonder. I do not stress about dying alone and not being found for days. I'll be dead. I won't give a shit whether or not I'm found. I'd rather not drop and be in pain for days but dying, I'm ok with.
Will one of these coughing fits just end in not being able to breathe at all? I wondered that last night, when in the middle of the night, I spent a good 5 minutes really struggling. But, I pulled out of it and that turned out to be the only part of the night that was a problem at all. I slept well.
I got up rough. Massive coughing. I seriously thought about not swimming but I rallied and thought that maybe my lungs might appreciate it. I think they did. It was not the greatest swim ever but I managed 1,900 yards and most of it was fine. And being in the water is always good.
I stopped and got some breakfast and then stopped for a few things at Trader Joe's and then came home and tried to sleep. But wound up coughing instead. So now I'm sitting on the bed in the dark, internetting. I think I'm just going to watch TV and knit and maybe do nothing else today.