From all Sarah's accounts (I've been away from New York since Friday), she's been much worse ever since transferring to Calvary: it reached the point today where she isn't really eating or drinking anything, even when a straw is held to her lips. She doesn't talk, but makes appreciative noises (the infamous-in-our-family "hmmmm") when someone is reading or playing something she likes. Sarah asked the doctor there today the time question, and got an alarming answer: 24 to 72 hours. Hours. We're taking her assessment with a grain of salt, since she's only known Mom for a week, but she is starting to act like she's on her way out, and we've never been through anything like this before, but it doesn't seem like it will be long.
Other people have these months-long dying processes, or get diagnosed with alarming cancers and continue to live for many months afterward, but this has just been one horrifying downward, smoke-spewing spiral. We have all (including her) said since the beginning that if she can have her life back, we want that, but we don't want some endless-seeming suffering. "I feel like I'm turning into something else," she said to Sarah and me while we were waiting for the second spinal tap a few mere weeks ago. It's hard to face what's coming, though.
Visitors are still welcome, though the food mentioned in Sarah's last post might be moot at this point. Love.