Just breathe..

(Please see my previous posts so this story makes sense) 
Well we’ve gotten pretty far in time here, much closer to present day and if you have followed the story this far, I thank you. I mean, we are in the home stretch here. Looking back on this stuff now, a lot of it seems so trivial because when I look at the last few months of my life, what was about to happen in this story, had confirmed everything I ever thought about Satan, about my brother and my extended family. 
By the time my mom’s bday/ πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰πŸ‘‘πŸ‘ΆπŸΌTHE BABY’s πŸ‘ΆπŸΌπŸ‘‘πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰ (see what I did there? πŸ˜‰) rolled around I was just fed up with everyone and everything. My mom was going to that party. It didn’t matter whether she had to be rolled in on a stretcher. She wasn’t going to miss it. I think at this point in time her sisters were starting to get into her head a little bit, too and she didn’t want to be judged by them anymore. She was also pretty upset with them. She knew all I was doing to help her and the fact that they could treat me like shit, well in her eyes and I’d believe in most mother’s eyes we feel, if you hurt my kid you hurt me too. Apparently their anger for me overpowered their love for her. 
I put together a nice gift for the baby and wrote out a card and sent it to their house and apologized for not being able to make it to their party. They didn’t care that I wasn’t there. I told my mom, my husband, my son and I would come over to her house the next night and have a nice relaxing day. We’d get takeout and celebrate her birthday in a nice quiet way. I went to the store and got her a birthday cake and everything. Her breathing still wasn’t good that day and when we arrived at her house, her arm was in a sling. She said someone gave it to her at the party. I couldn’t believe that my family just sat there with her the whole day and didn’t think she looked like she was in no shape to be sitting at a party. 
While we’re eating dinner, her phone rings. It’s my brother telling her that there going to stop by because they had conveniently forgot to give her her birthday gift at the party the day before. I think it was purposely forgotten so they could come over and ruin our day with her. They invited themselves over, we sang happy birthday and even though Satan hardly said two words to me, she was the first one to dig in and take herself a nice piece of the cake! 
The next day was a Monday and my mom called me early in the morning and told be that her breathing was really bad again and she felt like she’d had such a bad episode that she felt as if she was dying. It didn’t help that her A/C unit took a crap on her a few days prior. Once again I offered to bring her to the emergency room. She told me she wanted to finish working and I had to remind her that she wasn’t a cat and even if she was, she probably used 8 of her 9 lives by now. I went over to her house, told her to pack a bag just in case and we headed over to the hospital. 
It was another long night at the ER. Probably my third or fourth in the past few months. It ended up that her blood levels were extremely low which was why she was having such a heard time breathing. When your red blood cells get low, your oxygen levels go down (you are anemic) too, which will effect your breathing. They ended up admitting her to the hospital again. 
I guess it’s fair to say that by this point in time I was my mom’s main caretaker. I mean she was still able to care for herself but I was the person who helped her. She had several hospital stays that year, before this one. Each and every time I brought her to the hospital, if she needed anything from her home such as clothes or toiletries, I was the one who went to her home and got them. My brother and Satan were completely uninvolved save for the occasional hospital visit. While she was in the hospital I took care of and looked after her home. Her neighbor who happened to run a pet sitting business, would feed and look after her dogs but if they needed anything like food, or medical attention, I was the one who would take care of that. I was running back and forth from her house to the hospital constantly. 
During this hospital stay my husband and I decided to replace her broken air conditioner, so it was one less thing she’d have to worry about when she got home. We went to the electronics store, purchased a new one and then went to her house to install it. Since we used her credit card to purchase the new unit I left the receipt on her kitchen counter, by her coffee maker and went on our way. 
Once they got my mom a blood transfusion they needed to figure out why she was losing blood and causing her to be anemic. I come to find out that my mom had a very visible amount of blood in her urine. Every time we went to the hospital I found out about more shit that my mom was hiding from me. Apparently she had known there was blood in her urine for quite some time but she never said anything about it. They needed to take a biopsy of her kidney to see if there was any damage, plus a whole variety of other tests.
I liken being a cancer patient to being an amateur, lightweight boxer standing in the middle of the ring while Mike Tyson, George Forman, Muhammad Ali, Rocky and Apollo Creed, taking turns punching you as hard as possiblein the gut, while your hands are tied behind your back. I am just the guy (or girl, in my case) on the side of the ring holding a water bottle, completely helpless. Every time you go to a doctor or a hospital,you get more bad news. Your life revolved around your diagnosis, your diagnosis dictates your life. 
A cat scan result indicated that the cancer had now spread to my moms stomach. At this point in time I knew it wasn’t good. Not in the least sense. Once cancer starts spreading to other major organs you are considered stage 3 or 4. As if this wasn’t bad enough, my mom’s transplanted kidney that gave her 25 years of life, was shutting down. Eventually it would look like my mom was inevitably going to end up on dialysis. They wanted to do a fistula in her arm so if and when they had to do dialysis, her arm wound be ready. A fistula is when they take a vein and connect it to an artery, thusly making it a super vein. That’s where they stick the dialysis needles which are about 5x’s the thickness of the needles they use to take blood. In order to do the fistula, they had to get my mom off her blood thinners. 
It was only two weeks in to her hospital stay when I started noticing something that didn’t seem right. I didn’t know then but what I was about to figure out confirmed what I had thought about my brother and his wife for quite some time now. 

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About ThefamScapegoat