The pressure

Life had been going to shit ever since Mom died. And it’d been only two months. Why, everything was going against Jeremy since September. He even remembered the moment the phone rang. He’d been having lunch with his damned sister on her damned birthday, and the damned nursing home called his sister’s damned cellphone to tell her our mother had breathed her last. Oh, well, I said – I’m relieved after all these years of suffering, etc. etc. she had gone through so much etc. etc. while underneath I was etc. etc.

And then it started to rain. And it didn’t stop raining for two solid weeks. And during those two weeks, when I walked the dog, he got the floors totally dirty. I mean, I couldn’t keep my beautiful hardwood floors with the expensive oriental rugs clean, now how shitty is that? And when I came back from the funeral where we buried Mom’s ashes next to Dad’s (he died last year – exactly one shitty year to the shitty day before she did) the damned pet-sitter had allowed the damned dog to jump up onto my damned sofa and get it damned dirty. I nearly popped a blood vessel.

But that would’ve gotten me into the same situation that Mom got in. Her blood pressure rose and rose and rose until five years ago she had that cerebral hemorrhage. But the damned doctors at the damned hospital had guilted my father into allowing the damned surgery to proceed that saved Mom’s life – though the damned doctors didn’t tell my father what the damned consequences of the damned surgery would be: total disability for the rest of her life. And hundreds of thousands of damned dollars into the pockets of the medical establishment. All those dollars coming out of my parents’ life savings. You know what I’m implying, don’t you?

We were screwed. And after all these years of suffering, it was over. I’m relieved. Now if only this damned rain would stop and I could get that damned sofa clean.