Misha died last night shortly after my last post. I thought she was sick on her stomach, but evidently it was a heart attack. She exhibited the same symptoms near the end that Jager had when she was diagnosed. It all happened so fast it still doesn't seem real. Drake is, as I type this, walking around the house looking for her.
Mom was in her room alone when I got there about 545. She said Donald thinks he is catching a cold so he didn't come. She never got her shower last night either because of the thunderstorm. She declined, and they told her they'd give it to her today. She had her bag out.
She had a good therapy session today. It was with some new girl. "She had stretched everything in me when it was done with." She said she asked her "did I make an A and she said yes I did, that I had done real good." She's been in a good frame of mind for about a week now. Not lethargic or sleepy, very conversational and cognitive, like the old mom.
She had some tomatoes on the table that Batchie had brought her yesterday. Mr. Carpenter stopped by her table at supper tonight, and was going to cut up her ham but a cna beat him to it. She said she hadn't even seen the ham. I told her she needs to look around that plate me, because another time she had ham I cut it up for her and she didn't know it was on her plate until I mentioned it.
I told her about Misha. "We don't have good luck with cats do we?" she said, referring to Dexter's disappearance, Jager's death and now Misha. I told her no. It reminded her of when dad was sick. She said he would get mad at her for trying to help. "I prayed to God, I just don't know what to do." She said she had to take it to Him. She was a little choked up.
She asked me to take her poinsettia with me when I left which I did. We did her menu. Someone called just as I was leaving. "Sorry about your cat" she said as I left.
