In my head I went in circles as I sat silently beside her bed. When we talked on the phone that day, we were making plans for her to come and visit with me. She needed to schedule some medical procedures and was afraid that nobody in her house would be able to take care of her as she recovered.

She was particularly worried about a biopsy she needed to have done. She was worried she might have cancer. Was this enough to cause her to lose hope, or to look for an out to avoid being a burden? Possibly... But we had talked about being positive and waiting until we knew for sure before we worried.

He and his sister and their kids would come to the hospital without masks, wouldn't wash or sanitize their hands, and he would be breathing in her face and touching her, putting his dirty tablet on and near her face "so she could hear her favorite song". On speaker. At high volume. Inches from her ear...

I felt like he tried to kill her. Or hoped she succeeded at the least. Maybe he hoped the germs would finish the job. Despite his best efforts she began recovering. After a week and a half, she was extubated. Still not aware of her surroundings, but might barely come back around in time to leave with me back to AZ.

She began searching the room with her eyes. Trying to communicate. Taking sips of water. Everything was improving. Her husband hadn't been to visit since the first two days I was in town. An ICU nurse that is a close friend of his called him to tell him the news. He was at the hospital soon after...

He brought my nieces (who are being raised by and live with my mom) to the hospital. He and my oldest niece were both obviously sick. Sniffling, coughing, congested. The girls told me that things were very bad at home. They were being treated unfairly and there was violence in the home.

Meanwhile, the doctors are trying to prepare my mom for an MRI. They need her nice and calm. The moment he enters the room, her respiratory rate skyrockets. She starts trying to pull at the cannula and IVs. She recoils from his touch. The doctors come in and ask us all to let her rest before the MRI. He refuses.

The doctor eventually persuades him to leave. They take her back to the MRI, but the damage is done. She becomes unmanageable and has to be heavily sedated. Try again tomorrow, maybe. But her breathing gets worse and worse. I am asked to leave at 11PM. She has to be reintubated less than an hour later.

2 weeks into my trip now. My return flight is a couple days away. My hotel and rental are nearly up. I can't afford to extend. If I stay I will put my entire livelihood at risk. But if I leave I am confident my mother will die alone in the ICU. I have been at the hospital every day from 8AM to 11PM. I am exhausted.

I talk to the doctor about my concerns. He encourages me to stay if I can find a way. Says my presence is undeniably beneficial to her recovery. He expresses concerns about her husband and his kids. I find a couch to surf on. Extend my car rental. Cancel my flight. She needs my help.

Another week sitting in the hospital from 8AM to 11PM. And a sudden recovery. She is extubated again. She starts scanning the room. She starts drinking. Then eating. Then, she starts talking... "My son.". I cry. A greeting repeated every time we see each other. I thought I'd never hear it again.

Everyone visits. I sit in the waiting room as my grandmother and sister visit with my mom. When they return they are disturbed. My mom is trying to tell them something. They are pretty sure she said the name of a friend of her Husband. Very odd, but the euphoria of her recovery is more potent than the concern for now.

They believe she's ok mentally, and we discover that she has had pneumonia twice -- once when she was admitted, and then again as a result of exposure during intubation. While he's there, her husband again refuses to mask up or leave the room for the nurses. This makes the doctor livid.

Over the next few days mom starts getting much better. She doesn't remember what happened. I tell her what I have seen and heard so far. She swears she didn't do this to herself. She remembers a fight. She is angry with her husband and his sister and her kids for not visiting or calling her family for 5 days.

She restricts visitation to me and my aunt. She slowly remembers bits and pieces. And then all at once the vibe shifts. She says she remembers. She tells me a little, and I call for backup. She tells my aunt and the doctor the horrific details. Access to the ICU is restricted.

Her husband's friend (the nurse) can no longer see her charts or check on her. She calls him and accuses me of blocking everyone from seeing her. The phone calls pour in. Everyone blames me. I can't tell them why it's happening, so I let them.

My mom is adamant that she didn't harm herself. She recovers to the point that she is able to walk without oxygen. What she tells me makes me even more paranoid and untrusting of her husband or his friends in the state. She tells me she wants to leave ASAP and come with me to AZ. She wants to bring my sister's kids.

I call her husband to try to advise him of her wishes. She has legal guardianship, he's not blood, and she wants to leave. The kids should come with her. He refuses, and blocks all communication with me. His sister begins texting her phone very unkind and terrible things about her kids. She can still barely walk.

The kids are still telling me they are being abused and treated unfairly. When it was first reported, I called the local police department and asked for a welfare check. I never got a call back. I tried calling DFCS. Nothing. So I called the sheriff. Finally a welfare check was conducted. In front of her husband.

The kids were too afraid to say anything with him standing right in front of them. The police wouldn't do anything about it. I left tens of messages for DFCS. More than a year later and I have never heard a word back from them. Her husband is an ex-cop. The local police started following me to & from the hospital.

She was breathing on her own, eating, and drinking at this point. She was doing well in behavioral therapy. Her recovery was shocking. I pressed the hospital to release her. They delayed. I saw his nurse friend talking to the administrator in the hallway, looking towards my mom's room. In my mind, alarm bells scream.

I had to get her out of there. She still couldn't walk -- she could barely hold her cup to her face to drink. But given the strangeness of his behavior and what my mom told me had occurred, I had to do something. I pushed the administrator to release her. She said if psych approves, she will allow it. Psych approved.

After psych it's oxygen. But she can't find a tank. I feel like she's stalling. I persist. She delays. My mom is begging me to get her out of there. So I silently pack all of mine and my mom's things. A young nurse is walking down the hallway. I ask her if she can help me find a wheelchair...

She obliges. I put my mom in the wheelchair, throw the bags over my shoulder, and head for the door. We're 20 feet from the door, and the administrator comes out of an adjacent hallway with security and attempts to block my path. She is really worried about my mom's oxygen levels. If I leave it will be unsafe.

My mom is stressed and telling me to just leave. I let them take her oxygen to prove my point. 96. We bounce. We stay with my aunt for a few days and my mom makes an instant recovery. She is walking before we leave Atlanta. We hit the road to AZ. I drive almost nonstop, but take a short nap in TX.

For a couple of weeks she is very weak. She can't remember shit. She is easily confused. But she recovers. We get her medical procedures out of the way. She does not have cancer. We convince her husband to let the kids visit, and we convince them to stay.

That was a year ago. Since then she has fully recovered. She's healthy and happy. We haven't talked much about the things she said happened. After a while she said none of that happened, and that she did try to take her own life. I think the truth lies somewhere in between and will likely never know what went down.

When I returned I had burned through almost all of my money. I was desperate for work and took the first serious offer I could get my hands on. I hated the work and my boss was a terrible human being. But a week more and I would have lost everything.

A few months ago my mom started telling me how much she'd been missing her dog and her mom and relatives she left in ATL. She is going back in 3 weeks, and I am terrified for her. It has been rough providing for 3 additional family members for the last year. It almost destroyed me. But I don't want that life for her.

One of my nieces has asked to stay with me. We are trying to get guardianship and make that happen. Now that I've lost my job without severance I am absolutely fucked. This year has been absolutely nightmarish. I don't want this kid to have to go back to that life.

Anyway, if you made it this far I'm sorry and what is wrong with you... I just had to unload this shit into the abyss so I can leave it behind me and get back up on the horse.

I became increasingly suspicious of her husband and anyone living in her household. Why had they waited so long to tell me? I got the impression that they just hoped she would die in the hospital and they would only have to deliver bad news once this way.