My Brother Pulled Out My Mom's Oxygen Tube

My mother's condition had taken a turn for the worse, and she desperately needed a ventilator. But my brother, Dr. James Johnson, decided to give it to his "Second Mom," Sophia Brown.

That night, while my mother, suffering from a severe infection, passed away in agony, Sophia, who was healthy and wealthy, was discharged and went out with James to a fancy restaurant to celebrate her birthday.

As I was making arrangements for my mother's cremation, James posted a picture on Instagram of himself happily hugging Sophia, with a caption that read, "Happy Birthday to my mom on Mother's Day! You'll always be my mom!"

When I called him to tell him about our mother's death, he erupted in fury, shouting, "You and her should both be dead! Lying mother and daughter!"

As he wished, I was later killed in a car accident. When he saw the urns containing my mother's and my ashes, he lost it and killed his "Second Mom."

***

When I brought my struggling mother to the hospital, I saw James attending to a plump woman with gentle care, speaking softly to her.

Desperate for help, I rushed over and said, "Please, you have to help my mom. Her wound is infected and she's having trouble breathing!"

To my shock, James looked at me coldly, clearly annoyed.

"You need to follow hospital procedures. What does telling me do?"

His indifference was like a punch to the gut. But this was my mother. Even she weakly called out from behind,

"Let's not bother your brother; he has his job requirements."

With no other choice, I turned away and took my mother to register. I overheard James telling Sophia softly, "If you ever feel unwell again, just come to me directly. I've reserved a private room for you!"

I was stunned-- this plump woman was the "Second Mom" James had mentioned!

I wanted to confront him, but my mother's painful gasps drove me to find a doctor. The doctor said we needed a ventilator for her.

The cost was high, but I gritted my teeth and paid for it, then went out to grab some food.

As I rushed out, I saw James deep in thought. I grabbed him and said,

"James, Mom is really sick and needs a ventilator. Please check on her if you have time."

He looked surprised, "Mom is using a ventilator?"

I nodded, too anxious to think about the strange look in his eyes, and hurried off to get the food.

When I returned to the ward, I found my mother struggling to breathe without the oxygen mask, clutching the bed sheets, her chest rising and falling erratically.

Panicked, I screamed for a nurse, "Where is my mother's ventilator? She can't breathe!"

The nurse stammered, "Mr. Johnson came by earlier. He said your mother's condition wasn't critical and took the ventilator for another patient who needed it more."

The nurse's words hit me like a ton of bricks-- who could need it more than my mother?

Without a second thought, I ran to find James, determined to confront him about why he took away the one thing keeping my mother alive.

In a frantic search, I finally spotted him in the VIP room, the ventilator next to the plump woman!

"James! How could you take Mom's ventilator away?"

James sneered, "She was just complaining! The machine is for patients who need it more!"

I looked at the rosy-faced woman; it was clear my mother needed it more!

Desperate, I lunged to push the ventilator away, but James grabbed me and threw me to the ground, disdainfully shouting,

"Security! Get this crazy woman out of here! She's trying to sabotage medical equipment!"

Despite my desperate attempts to explain, the security guards still hauled me back to my mother's room. She was barely conscious, gripping my hand with what little strength she had left.

"Emily, don't waste your time looking for your brother. I'm not going to make it. Let's just go home."

Tears welled up in my eyes instantly. I tried to keep my voice steady as I reassured her, "We can't give up now! I'll find a doctor and get another ventilator!"

I said this, but deep down, I knew I was running out of money. I gritted my teeth and asked the doctor if we could get another ventilator.

The doctor shook his head in frustration. "Mr. Johnson's patient only has breathing issues from obesity. They don't need a ventilator!"

I was stunned. How could James take the ventilator meant for our mother and give it to his "Second Mom," Sophia?

I couldn't bear to tell my mother the truth, so I just told her the ventilator would be arriving soon. But my perceptive mother figured it out. "Emily, I know your brother did this on purpose. He still hasn't forgiven me. It's alright."

Unable to hold back my tears any longer, I broke down and clung to her, terrified of losing her.

I rushed to arrange an ambulance from another hospital and had my mother loaded onto the stretcher.

But on the way to the hospital, my mother closed her eyes, her face etched with regret and sorrow. Her rough, frail hand rested gently on my head.

The anguish in my heart was overwhelming. I collapsed as doctors swarmed around her, performing emergency procedures. My strength gave out.

Just a few days ago, she'd been knitting sweaters for me and James. She hadn't even seen us marry or hold her grandchildren.

She would never see another sunrise.

And it was all because of my heartless brother! He was responsible for taking our mother's life!

At that moment, James called. "You can come pick up the ventilator now. It's been used. People who are healthy shouldn't be pretending to be ill and wasting medical resources!"

My anger erupted. I shouted, "James, do you even have a heart? You took Mom's ventilator and gave it to someone else! Do you even understand-- "

"That patient needed it more! I'm a doctor; I allocate resources based on need. What's wrong with that?"

Before I could finish, James started arguing back, showing no concern for our mother.

I felt completely betrayed like James was a stranger.

When he first mentioned Sophia, my mother and I thought he had just made a new friend who was helping him out. We never imagined he would be so cold-hearted towards our mother for the sake of someone else.

"James! Mom was already in critical condition! You're inhuman. You let Sophia's presence cause Mom's death!"

My heart shattered as I looked at Mom covered by a white sheet. I wished I could have gone with her.

"No matter how much you hate me, you can't lie about her death! Are you even human? How can you be so cruel?"

I'm the cruel one? It's James who's truly heartless!

"James, stop calling and come help me blow out the candles!" The voice on the other end was filled with festive cheer.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed dry. My rage flared as I screamed, "James, Mom's dead, and you're out celebrating someone else's birthday? You're worse than a traitor!"

"You're just trying to guilt-trip me! Dream on! Why don't you join her and die too?"

He hung up, ignoring my furious cries.

Overwhelmed by a sense of deep injustice, I cried beside my mother, feeling that her life of hardship was so unfair.

Mom, you could never have imagined how ruthless your son could be!

Seeing the funeral home workers carry my mother away, the harsh reality of losing her forever finally sank in. I trailed behind, my heart breaking as I watched her frail, yellowed body being loaded into that cold metal box.

I'd never see my beloved mother again. I rushed to the iron doors, pounding on them, tears streaming down my face. The staff tried to calm me, urging me to take it easy, but how could I?

Across the street, a flower shop was blasting cheerful Mother's Day ads, and it hit me like a ton of bricks that today was Mother's Day. While others were picking out flowers for their moms, I was here, overseeing my mother's cremation.

In a desperate attempt to stir some conscience in James, I pulled out my phone, only to see his latest photo. He was grinning widely, his arms around that overweight woman, Sophia, with a big cake in front of them. The caption read, "Birthday on Mother's Day-- Happy Birthday, Mom! You will always be my mom!"

So he was celebrating Sophia's birthday! My nails dug into my palms as I stared at the happy James. On a day that was supposed to be about my mother and me, she had been taken from us because of him, and he was treating someone else as his mother! And celebrating her birthday while our own mother would never see another one!

An icy emptiness settled in my chest. I remembered how James had decided to become a doctor after Dad's sudden death. We had knelt together at Dad's grave, tears in our eyes, vowing that we'd never let Mom and me suffer from illness.

In the early days, James was always checking on Mom and me, genuinely concerned for our health. But once he joined a major hospital, the temptations and allure of fame clouded his judgment. He stopped coming home, claiming to be busy with further studies, but I found out he was just socializing.

When Sophia, his so-called "Second Mom," came along, promising to fund his clinical research, he cut all ties with us, chasing after a better life. That determined James seemed like a distant memory.

Holding Mom's urn, I sobbed uncontrollably.