Hard Stuff

When I went to my dad's house today to take him to the Farmer's Market, I expected him to be ready and impatient to go. But he was not. He was ill, weak and drawn, unable to go anywhere because he was tethered to oxygen and waiting for the hospice nurse to come change his catheter, since his bag had sprung a leak.
He had not eaten much breakfast (a first for him), and was visibly reduced. Still, he lit up when I suggested that I pick up a few things for him at the Farmer's Market, as well as picking up coffee ice cream at Target (that's his favorite flavor). So I got him his John Dory at the fishmonger, fresh cherries, fragrant white peaches, and a pint of Starbucks frappachino chip mocha ice cream at Target.
When I went to see mom this morning, she looked so shrunken and shriveled that I became afraid. She was picking at a blanket, and staring into space. When she saw me she said "I want to go home." I couldn't get her to eat anything. Clearly, it is too late for the date shake I envisioned. She cannot seem to ingest more than a sip of milk before she becomes nauseated.
I talked to the Speech Therapist at the nursing home, and that person begged me to take her home. They have tried everything, and nothing has worked. So after first trying to feed her chocolate pudding (she wouldn't eat it) and some more milk through a straw, I left and told the board and care I was going to bring her back on Sunday and would be putting her on hospice. The hospice nurse was already there working with my father, so it was an opportune time to arrange this.
I don't think my mother will last much longer, particularly if she cannot eat. I should probably be making funeral arrangements, but I don't know where to start.