Good luck, Heather!
My mother-in-law didn’t quit until she no longer had the strength to totter out to the porch. When Dad was alive, she would have my wife “sneak” packs into the house (yeah, Mom, because Dad was an idiot and never knew why you went to “watch the birds” when it was sub-freezing out); one time she walked back into the house, face covered in blood, because her matches had started to tip off the rail, she’d leaned over quickly to grab them, and had toppled off the step face-first onto the pavement (when my wife asked me to wash off the blood from the walk, I was strongly tempted to let it stay as a reminder, but Yes, dear…). She takes about a hundred shallow breaths a minute now because her lungs can’t hold enough air, and she prefers to stay in bed, where the oxygen is.
Not that you need a pep talk, or anything. <grin>