And living in general. And my mother. No icon this time I just don’t feel like it. Like most days now I went up to Cynthia’s to eat. My mother was here yesterday, don’t know why she came over and stayed the night, but she did, though she barely spoke to me or even saw me. Most of the time she was on the couch watching TV. This morning she made garlic bread and left the pan on the stove. When I got home from Cynthia’s at around 8 I saw it there and decided to move it because I don’t like things on the stove, particularly heavy things. It’s a messed up old stove. Like if you pull down the oven door too quickly or forcefully the whole thing tips forward, and the top part with the oven dials is separating from the bottom part where the burns are, which is why I don’t like things on it to make it any worse. So I moved it and set it down with some other kitchen stuff, near the crock pot. I didn’t see the crock pots heavy glass lid there, and when I put the pan down the lid fell on to the top of my foot. That’s what started all this. I have accidents all the time, every day actually. This isn’t the first time I’ve smashed a body part. I’ve been lucky so far, at least in the past few years and had no serious injuries, but I always worry, especially when I hurt myself. I’m always alone, and even though I do have free health care provided by the state, if something bad happened I probably wouldn’t get any help. The lids edge landed right where the foot ends and the big toe starts. It hurt like hell (still hurts of course) and I was afraid I might have fractured it. When I’m worried there’s really nothing to do but tell someone just to talk, to get reassurance, and to let them know what happened, just so they know. I didn’t call my mom at first, I called Cynthia. Basically the only time I got medical attention for an accident (I fractured my ankle on a school field trip) I was with her. Had I been with my mother then it probably never would have happened. My mom was out in Arizona with her boyfriend then. She had left me with my great aunt (who we both had been living with) and moved back. I didn’t have health care (I think this is the first time I’ve ever had it) but my aunt still took me to the hospital. I’ve always known with my mother that no matter what happened I wouldn’t get any help with her. So Cynthia is my first choice to call. After I spoke with her I was still worried so I broke down and called my mom. I never should have called her. But no matter what she’s still my mother, and unfortunately I still love her, and I’m weak. I hate myself for making such a stupid move. At first she was sympathetic, and said she was coming down to see me even though I told her not to. She’s often had the proper mother sentiment even if she hasn’t had the actions to back it up. She called back a few minutes later and said she didn’t think she could come down because she’d been drinking. I didn’t really think she’d actually come to see me, she’s never cared when I’ve been unwell or hurt before, but it was a nice thought, my mother actually being near me. She immediately turned it into about her. That guilting, self serving crap “tell me you love me tell me you love me” “tell me you’re alright tell me you’re alright” Then saying “I’ll come down, I would come down but…” All just so she can feel better about herself. After having to go through all that for like 5 minutes I finally broke down crying and said exactly what I said here “I never should have called you.” And that really started the waterworks. She thinks she has cancer, colon cancer specifically. Could she? Yes, of course. Cancer runs in our family big time. My aunt had eye cancer, and my grandmother had breast and pancreatic cancer, that’s just what I know about. She’s also going on 50. So yes she could have cancer. Do I believe she has cancer? I’ll believe it when I great a straight answer out of her. She first told me she wants me to go live with stay with my great aunt Laura in Maryland, who I barely know. It’s not the first time she’s tried to unload me. I was half raised by my great aunt Cynthia and my grandmother, I only really spent any time with my mom during the many times we moved to Arizona (we kept moving back here) when she wasn’t with Matt-freak that was. She said it was because she’s sick and has cancer. I flipped then. I usually try to keep my cool, because there’s no point in arguing with that person, but I couldn’t stop myself from saying yes, you’re always sick, but no one else is. If you get dizzy you say you’re having a heart attack, and now she has cancer. She said she really is sick. I asked her if a doctor told her that, and I couldn’t understand her very well because drunk people babble, and it’s even worse when they’re crying, but the first time she said yes, she knew she does, and the second time I asked her she said she had to get the test done. I could go on like that forever and each time she’d say something different because drunk people are never clear, especially drunk pathological liars. She said again she wants me to go with Laura because she wants me to be taken care of, since she can’t right now and can’t even work because of it. And she’s worried because she’s always taken care of me. Why does she think she has cancer? Because she can’t go to the bathroom. She used to always have diarrhea and now she’s constipate and and she says she can’t go to the bathroom at all and she’s in pain. Cynthia blames it on her drinking herself stupid and not eating. She also watched on old episode of Dr Oz this morning, and the first segment was about cancer pains, and since she has all the symptoms she immediately said she has colon cancer. Last Thursday she was talking about looking for a job, and having someone move in with us (which is the thing from the last few posts), and even today she was talking about having roommates, wondering whether to keep the Showtime package so she can watch Dexter, and saying she has to clean because we still need our water fixed (we’ve had barely any water except a trickle from the shower for almost a year now) and now she has cancer. Obviously I don’t believe her. Of course she could have cancer. My poor great aunt Cynthia who I worry about constantly, has had it before, and has spots on her lungs, could have cancer. My aunt Cyndy who bakes herself out in the sun and smokes like a fiend could have cancer. I, with my constant headaches, dizziness, and walking into walls and everything else could have cancer. Do any of us? (If there’s a God in heaven I do or will soon, fingers crossed) I won’t believe it until a doctor actually says it. I particularly won’t believe it from my mother until it’s actually confirmed. Part of it is her hypochondria, part of it is bitterness. She always says something is wrong with her, and is always complaining about something. And I mean always. That’s the bitterness part of it. She’s so self centered. Like when I called and needed her she immediately turned the whole thing into a Pam Pity Party. I’m so used to hearing her complain about everything and saying she has this sickness, and she has that sickness. When she has a problem it’s the end of the world, and she suffers so much. She’s not even interested in helping herself, she just wants to complain about it, guilt other people into sympathizing with her. She was supposed to get a tests done in December and never did. Then the doctor was trying once again to have her go get tests done a few months ago. And even now has she gone to get the test done? I couldn’t get an answer out of her, but the last thing she said was that she still needed the test. I called Cynthia right after I spoke with my mother because I was in a horrible state. She said if she really thinks something is wrong then she should shut up and go to the hospital to find out. She said if my mom called back not to answer it, and I told her I didn’t plan to. I don’t want to talk to her. My mom did say she would call back in a few minutes, after she finally did decide to hang up, but I didn’t think she would and she hasn’t. More “I’m so sick *drunk babbling* you don’t believe me, no I’m just making this up for the fun of it *drunk babbling* I’m going to get help I just want you to be taken care of” (oh, yes, please have a hit put out on me and put me out of my misery). I so wanted to right then and there just to drink all that przc, but I’m such a coward. I’m so afraid of having a seizure, or seriously messing myself up instead. I know I’m not a good person, but I don’t believe I’m a very bad person either. I don’t see why I deserve this. Why oh why are there no tall buildings around here? Did God get his messages crossed, I’m the one who desperately wants to die. It might sound mean or selfish to talk like this about my mom when she said she has cancer, but please spare me you’re ridiculous PPP comments. You don’t know me, my life, or my mother, it’s not the first time she’s said she was sick and was actually fine. I will believe her when she says she went to the doctor and this is her diagnosis. Until then I will not pander to an attention hound. Now I have to go lay back down, try to make my foot comfortable, and get to sleep.