My old gf's dad was in bad shape from lung cancer, diabetes, and a gangrenous wound on his leg where you could see the tendons and shinbone. She lived in a 3rd-floor walk-up in Hell's kitchen, so relocating him from rural MD to her NYC apartment wasn't an option. I pulled strings and got him a bed in a Hospice clinic. They put him on 2 grams of morphine every 4 hours! They called during the night to let us know he was gone. I felt bad, sounds kinda like euthanasia. While he was getting his first dose he called me to his side and asked me, "what is this place?" He had a look on his face like he was already seeing angels. He was 72 then, my age now. Mortality sucks, but, not to wax philosophical, it's a fact of life.Ya that would be tough at that age! Especially since u don’t know exactly where its going til its picked up so could be a house or could be a 3rd floor apartment!
ppp
unless your over 100
ppp 
