Well, in the amount of time it took me to go to my UCLA class and hear Jay Wolpert of Pirates of the Carribean speak, Calliope blew a nose gasket and took a very bad turn. Nurse Sis took care of her while I was gone, during which time she looked like the last episode of Scrubs, sneezing buckets of blood everywhere. Nurse Sis looked pretty traumatized, which takes a lot from a critical care nurse.
By the time I got home Calliope was out in the rose garden too weak to move from where she'd faceplanted. We got her inside and stayed up most the night again with her.
To me, she looks the same as the last time I stayed up all night with her and we were going to take her to the vet to put her down. Which means I'm voting no today, because she had three great weeks after that day, and I still feel guilty for not believing in her. But Mom and Nurse Sis are pretty angry at me and think I'm being cruel not taking her in right now. I don't know what to do. She still purrs when I pet her. She still gets up to get water once an hour, and takes herself to the litter box. I don't know, I've seen Mom this sick and she always recovered. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. At what point do you not have faith in someone's inner strength? I don't want to kill her too soon, but I don't want her to suffer needlessly. What a nightmare.