Abstract

In December 2004, at the age of 91, my father was told that his congestive heart failure had worsened and that his kidneys were functioning poorly. At best, the prognosis was that he had perhaps another year; at 86, my father had had a succession of three heart attacks before having surgery to place a stent in his coronary artery. The cardiologist who treated him then said he would get five or six good years from the stent, for which my father was grateful. Now, he believed that his time had come, and he wanted to see his grandchildren one last time.My family and I quickly made arrangements to travel 1,200 miles to make this last visit. We arrived late in the evening, and my mother answered the doorbell with the...