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After another hour or so, Dr. Worsfold came back to tell us that Nana had stabilized, but that she needed emergency angioplasty.

“It’s a common procedure,” the doctor explained, “but at Rose’s age, of course, any surgery is a risk.”

My parents looked at each other.

“I think she’ll be just fine, but unfortunately there are no guarantees,” the doctor added, answering the unasked question.

“Of course,” said my mom. “Well, let’s get to it then. The sooner the better.”

With my parents’ permission, Jagadesh arranged it so I could be the last one to talk to Nana before she went into the operating room.

A bunch of doctors and nurses and technicians were hurrying in and out of Nana’s room, checking instruments, writing in charts, and examining every inch of her body. She saw me come in and rolled her eyes.

“I haven’t had this many people fawn over me since before I was married,” she said. Then she patted the bed. “Come sit.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Good luck” sounded kind of dumb and “I hope everything goes okay” sounded negative.

So I just said, “I love you, Nana.”

She hugged me as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard. “I love you, too, Moochie-Pooch.” Then she pushed me back so she could look at me. “This has been quite a couple of weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yup.”

She hoisted herself up on her pillows. “I meant every word I said. I’m so proud of you. But now it’s time to get back to living.”

“I know,” I said, looking at the shiny white floor.

“Life is short, Jack,” said Nana. “Too short to be doing things you don’t want to do. But way too short to not be doing anything at all.”

I nodded, and she lay back down on the bed, tired from the effort of talking. The doctors told us it was time to go. As she was getting wheeled away, Nana looked up at me.

“Meet me back here in three hours for Law & Order.”