The doctor checked her one last time, and then pulled Nicole outside the room so Nanna could get some rest. Doctor Vincent Rucker, a nice kind man who reminded her of Roger Moore when he played in those Bond movies. "She's getting enough rest," he assured her. "I don't want her moving at all. Not until we can find out for certain if there will be a heart donor before the end of the year."
"And if there is not one?" she asked worriedly.
He looked at her gravely. "I would like her to come to the hospital and stay. She will be even weaker and I don't want her in this environment. I would also like you to speak with her about resuscitation. She is still coherent enough to discuss her options."
Stubbornly her chin went up. "There are no options. You will resuscitate her if she goes into arrest."
"I can't just do it because you said so." He handed her an envelope. "Give this to her. Read it over for her and then have her check what she wants and sign at the bottom."
Tears welled up tight in her eyes at the thought of losing her Nanna. "I don't think I can, Dr. Rucker."
"I know you can be strong, Nicole. I know you can," he assured her giving her a comforting hug.
After he left, she went back in the room where Nanna rested quietly. The lighting was low and soft music played in the background. Nanna loved the symphony Phantom of the Opera and the music played morning noon and night comforting the old woman in her time of need. All last month it had been the songs of Shirley Caesar. If Nanna made it to the New Year, Nicole was very interested in what the old woman would pick.
When she sat down beside Nanna in a chair, the old brown eyes opened. Her skin was pale from lack of blood flow. Already the elderly woman had lost one of her legs to the knee from lack of blood flow.
Watching the woman who had been more of a parent to her than anyone dying was heart wrenching. Nanna had been the strong independent woman Nicole had told herself she would grow up to be.
A faint weak smile crossed Nanna's features as she forced herself to awake. "How's my Nicole?" she asked her deep southern drawl coming forward slowly. The stroke had slowed her speech drastically until it sounded as if she spoke in slow motion.