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" She visited a nursing home nearby. 'It was actually one of the nicer ones,' she said. 'It was clean.' But it was a nursing home. 'You had the people in their wheelchairs all slumped over and lined up in the corridors. It was horrible.' It was the sort of place, she said, that her father feared more than anything. 'He did not want his life reduced to a bed, a dresser, a tiny TV, and half of a room with the curtain between him and someone else.'
But, she said, as she walked out of the place she thought, 'This is what I have to do.' Awful as it seemed, it was where she had to put him.
Why, I asked? "
― Atul Gawande , Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End