March 1, 1990 The first week
Joe and Doris call and ask about coming to visit. They have something they want to ask me. I am used to them having me babysit their house and dogs whenever they want to be away from the house for a while. I tell them they are welcome any time.
When they arrive, Doris is not looking as good as usual and moving very slowly. The ground still is covered in snow and Joe helps her walk to the house from their Mercedes. It’s not often I have such a nice vehicle in my yard.
They start by asking if I would accompany Doris to Greece for some medical treatment. She has just returned from Mayo Clinic and the prognosis is not good. She has been told she will not live to see Spring.
I am dumbfounded. I also don’t have a passport. Joe assures me that will not be a problem and I find that sure enough, it isn’t. I have my passport before we leave.
When we meet at the airport, I am saddened to see that Doris looks far worse than she did just 7 days before. She has lost more weight and is very weak. She has always been a slender elegant woman but now she is still elegant but oh so tiny and is confined to a wheelchair with an oxygen tank.
To be continued.