Did you ever have a run of bad luck, and no matter what you do, everything you touch goes wrong? Well, that is what is happening to me. It’s just one thing after another. I no sooner get one mess straightened out than something else happens. I’m at the end of my rope.
It all started about six months ago. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I thought, well, that didn’t go the way I had hoped, not even close. I had been recently laid off from my dream job. A job that I had worked hard for, one that I had planned over a long period of time. And then finally, I got the call it was my bosses boss that called me. He said, and I quote, “Jerry, this is Mort Thalman. We are considering you for the upper management position that just became available. Please come to my office for the corporate interview. It’s just a formality, but still, we would all like to have the opportunity to talk to you personally about what we have in mind for you. Are you interested?” 
I almost jumped up and down. I was so thrilled. And then I heard Mr. Thalman say,” Are you still there?” “Yes, yes, I’m here. I’m on my way up right now. “ And I practically flew out my office door and up three flights of stairs. When I arrived at his office, I knocked madly at the door about five times, and then I heard Thalman’s secretary say, “Come in, come in. For heaven’s sake.”
I tried to calm down a bit. I took a deep breath and tried to walk calmly into Thalman’s office, and I said, “Good morning, Mr. Thalman asked me to come up to his main office.”
“Yes, I know. Just go straight through the door right there. They are all waiting for you.” And then she put her head down and continued working on her computer. I headed towards the door. As I knocked on the door, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I heard a gruff voice say, “Come in, come in. We’re waiting for you.”
I walked through the door and, low and behold, sat all the big wigs of the company, and they looked at me, and I said, “Good morning.” And one of the corporate bigwigs whose name I didn’t know said, “Please take a seat at the end of the table. We will try not to make this too difficult.”
And what followed was nothing short of an inquisition. I kid you not. They asked me about every job I ever had, starting with my high school job of delivering newspapers in the small town I grew up in, which was Mt. Ephraim, New Jersey. After at least forty minutes, they arrived at my current position of Account Executive for new accounts. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Let’s take a few minutes break. I had my assistant order some coffee and donuts.” “We will be discussing with you what opportunity we have in mind for you. Oh, here comes the coffee and donuts. Relax for a few minutes.” They all started eating the donuts as if they hadn’t eaten in a week, and gulping coffee like it was the last cup they were going to get. My mouth was dry, and my stomach was turning. I sure wasn’t going to eat donuts. I sat down and took a couple of deep breaths. And I waited for them to go forward. I took several drinks of water and tried to swallow it without choking. I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous except when I was applying to Temple University, and I was interviewed by the Dean of the School.
I tried to maintain a calm demeanor. But, that couldn’t stop my hands and forehead from sweating. My throat felt dry and raspy. Finally, I asked if I could have a drink of water. I gulped it down so fast that I started choking. The secretary handed me a napkin and smiled down at me. Somehow, that smile did the trick, and I started breathing more normally and calming down. After all, I told myself this wasn’t the only job in the world. If I didn’t get this one, I had confidence that eventually, I would be hired, and I would excel at whatever I set my mind to.
After about twenty more minutes of questioning me, they asked me to step out of the office until they called me back. It seemed like a lifetime before that happened. Finally, the secretary said, “They’re ready for you now. Please follow me.” And so I did. When I reentered the office, I looked at each of their faces, but no one gave anything away. And then Mr. Thalman said, “Congratulations, we have all agreed that you are the man for the job. And he stood up and shook my hand. It was the best day of my life.
And so, I started my new position the following week. And for five years, I worked from morning until night. And I was successful. I received raises in my pay grade every year. And in the fifth year, I was offered a new position at the corporate headquarters. And I accepted it, thinking I’ve had the world at my feet, and that nothing was going to stand in my way to the top.
And then suddenly, without any warning that I can ascertain, little things started to go wrong. At first, it seemed inconsequential. My computer developed some weird glitches, and the IT department couldn’t find the problem. In the end, they decided to provide a new computer. So, for a little while, it was smooth sailing.
The next thing that happened was one morning, I was running late, and the traffic was heavy and unbelievably congested. It was bumper to bumper. And then, out of the blue, two cars ahead of me, a guy driving a Volva hit his brakes. And the car in front of me did the same, and I rear-ended him. It was awful. And just when I thought, oh, it’s not that bad, a car rear-ended me. Now, my car, one that I loved with all my heart, was ruined front and back. I started crying right then and there. I was still crying when the state trooper came over to my driver’s side window to see if I was injured. He found me crying like a baby. I couldn’t even manage to calm down enough to answer his question. I just sat there and cried as if I just lost my best friend. About a half hour later, a tow truck came by and towed my car, with me sitting in his front seat, crying the whole way. 
A couple of months after the CAR ACCIDENT, That’s how I always referred to it in all caps, THE CAR ACCIDENT. I was finally ready to buy a new car. I had been carpooling with a co-worker of mine. I was still somewhat trepiduous about driving, but I was somewhat confident in my ability to drive again. For the most part, I was right, but if anyone got too close, I would start hyperventilating and break out in a sweat, and my heart would start beating like a snare drum.
The next unexpected event was that my immediate boss quit because he found a better-paying position with a competing corporation. It took a while for my group to come together again and work as a team. I eventually was moved up to a higher position. Which was great, except I was now working twelve-hour days, and I was totally exhausted mentally and physically worn out.
As a result, my health started to fail, I started having asthma, and I hadn’t had any symptoms in years. It was just awful. I decided perhaps it might be psychosomatic and made an appointment to see a therapist. The therapist listened to my whole tale of woe and decided I had developed PTSD. He put me on Seratonin. It evens out my behavior, so I don’t overreact to any event that might occur.
There was a peaceful lull that lasted about four months. And I thought, oh thank god, that’s over. And things can finally go back to normal. And for a while, it did. And then, late one night, I received a call from my mother’s neighbor. She told me that my mother, who was in her mid-seventies, had taken a fall and was taken in an ambulance to the hospital. Either I come and take care of her, hire someone to stay at the house with her, or put her in a nursing home. She wouldn’t be able to live on her own anymore.
So, I had to take time off from my job and go down to Florida to take care of my mother. I hadn’t been there in over a year. My boss tried to be understanding, but he told me to please come back in a week’s time, or there was going to be a big problem.
I flew to Florida to save time. It was a short flight considering how far Florida is from where I live. I had called several Home Care companies in the area where my mother lived and arranged to meet four possible home caretakers. I was sure I could handle the whole issue and be back to work in less than a week. But, I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I had contacted my mother’s physician to see if it was possible for my mother to go home two days after I arrived in Florida so I would have time to interview the possible caretakers. He said, “Yes, of course. We wouldn’t be able to release her unless there was going to be a family member or a skilled caretaker in her residence. I thanked him and gave him my contact information.
I interviewed two women and a young man. I was surprised when a man showed up because I guess I never really considered a man would want to care for an older woman. And when I put some deeper thought into it, I realized that there are men who are nurses and caretakers and doctors. So, of course, there would be men who would work as caretakers.
That afternoon I waited for the first woman to show up. I hoped that she would be willing to do some housekeeping and laundry because my mother’s house looked like a bomb had hit it, literally. There were clothes, dirty towels, filthy sinks, and food that was spoiled sitting on every surface from the kitchen to her bedroom. I kid you not. It was absolutely disgusting. My first impulse when I walked through the front door was to turn and run back into my rental car and back to the airport.
I spent the first several hours cleaning the kitchen from floor to ceiling, changing the filthy sheets and bedspread on my mother’s bed, but worst of all was her bathroom. It looked like the bathtub and the shower hadn’t been clean in, well, forever. The more I saw, the quiltier I felt my mother only had me, and obviously, she hadn’t been able to depend on me. I had failed her completely. She had been living in a pigsty. I cried for the first half-hour I was there. I had to stuff tissues in my nostrils to keep the stink out. Because the smell made me want to throw up, I vowed that I would never allow this to happen to my mother again, I was going to have to get a full-time caretaker or have her move into a facility for aged people who could no longer live independently. I knew my mother would hate it, but anything was better than how she had been living up until now.
That afternoon I interviewed three people for the caretaking position, two middle-aged women and one young man named Joseph, who looked to be about twenty years old, but told me he was twenty-nine and he had amazing references and had done this kind of work since he was twenty after he had taken care of his own mother who developed early onset Alzheimers. I hired him after checking all his credentials. He said he would arrive the morning of my mother’s release from the hospital and was even willing to go and pick her up from the hospital.
All that night, I tossed and turned in the hotel bed. I kept waking up and having flashes of the condition of my mother’s house when I first saw it. At one point I started crying. I felt so ashamed of myself for not keeping in contact with my mother and being completely unaware of her circumstances. I vowed once again that I would never allow such a thing to happen again.
The next morning I slowly rolled out of the fold-out bed and stood up. I felt hungover, even though I didn’t have anything to drink. I was just exhausted from no sleep and worry. I took a quick shower, threw on my clean clothes, turned on my GPS, and headed to the hospital to pick up my Mother. Steven, the new caretaker, promised that he would be at my mother’s house and make sure everything was in order. And I believed him.
I took a deep breath, and when I arrived at the hospital, I spoke to my mother’s physician. And he assured me that, luckily, my mother was not injured physically, but was quite frail, since it appeared as if she hadn’t been eating properly. And probably skipping meals since she stated that she didn’t like eating alone. I felt a tear run down my face, and many more followed. The doctor put his arm around me. And that made me cry even more. And I kept apologizing for the state my mother was in and what had happened to her. And I was lucky she hadn’t died. He kept saying,” Now, now, you’re here now. And I know you will do everything you can to make sure nothing further happens to your mother.”
The nurse followed me into my mother’s hospital room and said, “Mrs. Taylor, your son, Jerry is here to take you home. I’m sure you are more than ready to get out of this hospital bed and back in your own bed. You have my number, or you can call your personal physician if you have any problems or if you have questions. I hope you are back to your own self asap. And with that, he turned his back and was gone. I stood there next to my mother, who I hardly recognized since she had lost so much weight. I started to cry again. I tried to gain control of myself. I wasn’t a crier, but the guilt of my mother’s condition and the condition of her home was overwhelming. My mother said in a low tone, “Please, Jerry, it’s alright, you are here now. Please, please, can you get me out of here? I hate hospitals. I was so afraid I was going to die here alone in this room. I’m so happy to see your handsome face.”
These were the kindest words that my mother ever said to me, and once again, more tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I said, “Yes, yes, let’s get you home now. I want you to know that I hired a wonderful young man to help take care of you and your house until you have fully recovered. And maybe you will decide that you would like him to continue staying with you after you feel better. But, I let you decide.
About twenty minutes later, I had my mother checked out and taken in a wheelchair out to the car that I had waiting at the curb. We had a quiet ride home to her house—neither one of us knew what to say. Finally, my mother said, “Oh, Jerry, thank you so much for coming. I love you so much and have missed you with all my heart. I’m sorry the house looks so terrible, I just haven’t had any energy to keep up with it, and maybe I didn’t care anymore. I felt so alone in that house, and I couldn’t think of a reason to go on anymore.”
When we arrived at my mother’s house, my mother said, “Yeah! We’re home. I awkwardly helped my mother to the house, and when we got up to the door, Joseph was standing there with a wheelchair and said, “All aboard.” My mother looked at me and then looked at Joseph and laughed. And Joseph easily lifted her up and placed her gently onto the wheelchair. “Here we go, hold on, Madam.” My mother said, “Oh my, two young men taking care of me, how wonderful.”
And that, my friends, was a wonderful new beginning for my mother and me and an end to the “Bad Luck.”
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