I was getting ready to go to my local tax revolt Tea Party when …

Just before noon I was in my bedroom getting ready to go to my local tax revolt Tea Party, which was scheduled for noon to 3 pm, when I noticed that my dear little cat, Grace, who was in kitty hospice care on my bed, was working her tongue like she might be thirsty. She was on her favorite pillow against the wall at the foot of my bed. I gently scooped her up and gently set her on the floor near her water fountain. She was not interested in water, milk or food. And she was too weak to stand, so weak that she was almost limp.

Yesterday I had taken Grace to her veterinarian for his opinion on whether there was anything he could do for her, or any way I could make her more comfortable, or if yesterday was her time. Her lymphoma was advanced and she had lost a lot of weight and was very frail. He examined her and said there was nothing he could do but he thought she could last a few more days. As he handled her, I could see her charm and friendliness revive a bit. It had crossed my mind that euthanizing her then would ensure I could go to the Tea Party without worrying about her. But that is not the way I handle end-of-life care. She was not ready to go. I would never push. So I brought her home and made her comfortable in her favorite spot on my bed.

I was up late working on my blog and then petting Grace and loving her up, saying blessings for her and calling on angels of all specialties — healing, guidance, love, prosperity, wisdom, enlightenment — to care for her always. So I didn’t wake up until around 9 am. As was her routine, when she sensed I was waking up, Grace walked over to lie down near my shoulder so I could stroke her when I was awake. This made me think she was feeling better than she was. I didn’t know those were her last steps.

After I got up I checked my Sitemeter and looked to see if any comments needed to be approved and got involved writing a reply. When I went back to my bedroom to get ready for my local Tea Party, I found Grace as I described above. I called her doctor, but he couldn’t see her for euthanasia until 3 pm. I still thought she had time and went downstairs to make a sandwich and brought it up to sit with Grace and eat and wait with her. But when I came back in the room I saw she was taking deep breaths alternating with no breath. I realized she was dying, but did not put down my sandwich fast enough to be petting her as she took her last breath, which I regret. I expected more deep breaths, but then saw her eyes had no expression. I got out my stethoscope and there were no breath sounds or heartbeat. She was gone. The time was about 12:40 pm. My sweet, brave, smart, beautiful little girl.

I lay on the bed and petted her and blessed her more, just in case that would help her newly departed soul feel loved and honored. I cried.

I didn’t arrive at the Tea Party until 2:30 pm. It had been raining since before noon when it was supposed to start and it was a chilly day here, only around 47 degrees F. By then no one was at the Tea Party location, but I saw some people coming out of a sandwich shop with Tea Party signs. They said there was a good crowd, around 600 by their estimate, and a lot of energy.

It would have been great to have gone to the Tea Party, but there were plenty of people to do that while my little cat had only one human on earth to comfort and support her as she died. I believe feeling comforted and supported when you die makes a great deal of difference in your spiritual progress. My duty was to my little Grace.

I went home and took Grace’s body to her veterinarian’s office for cremation. It was a comfort that one of the techs there particularly loved her.

Next my duty was to my father because today is his ninety-third birthday. I made him a nice dinner — low sodium chicken cacciatore, angel hair pasta and asparagus — but my dinner was three chocolate ice cream cones because sugar and chocolate are analgesics (really — there’s research and everything). Oh, and he had birthday cake left over from the family celebration we had for his birthday on Easter, April 12.

I may not get to bed until late tonight. I am washing all my bedding because seeing Grace’s fur in her favorite spots would make me cry. I love my little kitty with all my heart, but I also sleep on a respirator and need to be able to breathe through my nose; crying makes that difficult.

I don’t have the heart to take my own advice and make a YouTube Tea Party video. I would be so grateful if one of my readers who wouldn’t otherwise have made one does it after all so I would feel less like I let the side down.

Thank you.

If you can't get to a Tea Party you can still …

… write out your top three reasons for opposing the tax-and-spend-and-bankrupt policies of Obama and the Democrats (that sounds like they should be a band, yes?). Do your homework so you are informed.

Read your points aloud for practice.

Watch Zo for some inspiration.

Then give your 30-second speech to a video camera and pop that sucker up on YouTube.

Boo-yah!

Cuban Diva BFF will be spending Tea Party day at …

… her father’s bedside in a hospital in Manhattan. Her parents and older sister emigrated from Cuba legally in the 1950s. Cuban Diva BFF is an American-born, lifelong New Yorker — Manhattan, baby! — with all the style and culture that implies. She is a fiscally conservative Republican in darkest blue Manhattan. Really, it’s like being in the French Resistance. Hollywood MIGHT be worse — maybe.

But her father is 84 and going into surgery at 11:30 am EDT for necrotizing fasciitis in the groin. This is his second surgery — they want to ensure they removed all the infected tissue from his surgery on Easter Sunday, when he was admitted. Later there will be plastic surgery. I have her permission to write this and ask for prayers and positive thoughts for her father and mother and her family.

FYI, when you have a loved one in this kind of situation, if you are a calm and positive person, spend every minute at the hospital at their bedside that you can. Lift every chore from the staff that you can — like cleaning up stuff that falls on the floor. (You do NOT want a nurse to contaminate her hands picking up trash — that’s why this is housekeeping’s job.) Make yourself part of the solution. Just being there supports your loved one emotionally and spiritually and makes a huge positive difference.

Also, if you are in this situation, put as many bouquets of flowers around your loved one as you can. It wasn’t something I could do for Margaret — we didn’t have the money — and whenever she was hospitalized I saw how differently her roommates with lots of flowers were treated. The nurses always smiled more and spoke more often and more cheerfully to the patients with flowers. Cards, balloons and stuffed animals do not have that effect.

And do nice things for the nurses. My ex-sister-in-law is a nurse and I have plenty of stories about how hard they work under difficult circumstances. I suggest getting deli sandwich platters and deluxe flavored ground coffee, too, if you can manage it, for each of the three shifts. Sweets and pastries are not as wholesome, but the sandwiches platters are a godsend for nurses who didn’t have time to pack a meal before going to work. Plus, it saves them time and money getting their own.

You are not bribing the nurses and staff to get better care for your loved one. They will all do the best they know how no matter what. But your appreciation and practical support do help the staff do a better job for everyone in their care just because you made their lives pleasanter and easier that shift.

Update: Cuban Diva BFF called tonight and said her father is doing much better.

Iowahawk showcases the pilot episode of 'The Mary Hamsher Moore Show'

Come on, everybody, you know the tune! Sing along with the theme song:

Who can turn your stomach with her bile?
Who can hit a bullhorn switch, and suddenly bitch with a chipmunk smile?
Well it’s you girl and you should know it,
With each fire and every little dog lake you show it….

Be sure to tune in for the surprise ending .

P.S.

If you don’t know the backstory, Little Miss Attila pounced on it here.