Monday, Before Breakfast

"I need to see Dr. Zawala."

"Dr. Zawada?"

"Yes, Dr. Zawada."

"What do you think you need to see her for?"

"Well, that pill I take on Mondays. I haven't taken it for a while and it's all messed up. I don't know what to do about it."

"Remember when you went to the French Prairie they started giving it to you on Wednesdays? I gave it to you last week. You just didn't realize it. And you're going to stop taking almost all of your pills soon, remember?"

"Now why am I doing that?"

"Because you're at the end of your life, Grandma, and we're trying not to prolong it."

"I don't know what to believe or what to think. Am I dying that quick?"

"Well, Grandma, remember Dr. Zawada said you had about three months? Remember they found a mass in your intestines?

"So what do I do now, just sit here and wither away? That doesn't give me much to..."

"Do you feel like this is the first time you're understanding this?"

"No, I... Dr. Zawada was the one who told me first. Well when I feel good, I question whether they're right or wrong, but I have to believe her and I don't know what else to do about it other than just sit here. I'm up a stump, too. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."

"You just go along like you've been going along. How do you feel about it?"

"So be it."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, yes, as much as possible anyway. I wish I could just go to bed one night and have it be over."

"I wish that for you, too."

"Well, I guess I can just sit, dammit."

"What can I do for you, Grandma?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're the joy of my life."

"Are you feeling sad?"

"Probably yes and no. It's going to be the end and I know... it's going to be the end, so be it. I don't know any other way to say it."