Sin of Sarcasm

Title: Sin of Sarcasm

Michael pulled into his driveway with his 2012 Ford F-150. The truck still ran well, having almost two hundred thousand hard miles. It was nearly 6:00 p.m., and Michael was exhausted from another long, cold day working at a construction site. It was mid-February, and the snow has been fallen all day with temperatures hovering around twenty-five degrees. Today, he used the jackhammer for eight hours straight, breaking up old concrete where the giant machines couldn’t reach. Michael’s arms, shoulders, and back were hurting badly from the constant vibration of the massive tool. His hands showed signs of arthritis, probably near the third stage of rheumatoid arthritis. The pain in my hands was horrific today.

Michael just turned sixty-five and wasn’t planning on retiring for five more years. He couldn’t afford to retire now with two grandchildren. Michael wanted to buy them things and spoil them like grandparents should do, significantly contributing to their college fund. Michael turned off the ignition and grabbed his aluminum lunchbox and matching thermos from the seat beside him. When he exited the truck, his body ached, and his mind tired. His breath was now visible out of the vehicle, caused by the unrelenting cold temperature and the moderate winds blowing snowflakes across his face. Michael groaned as he carefully walked over to the side door of his house. Their eight-year-old husky from inside started barking with excitement, knowing his master was home and was about to enter the house. Michael inserted his door key and turned with some discomfort in his hand. He pushed the door open, setting his lunchbox and thermos on the kitchen counter. Leo, his dog, jumped up on Michael to get a good welcome home lick on his face. Michael rubbed around his neck and ears. “How’s my boy?” He said with a smile. After the greeting, Leo turned around and walked into the living room. Michael’s wife, Ann, was watching her favorite recorded show, General Hospital. When Michael walked over to her, Ann put her show on hold. Michael bent over to kiss his wife and then hung his heavy, brown Carhartt coat in the closet. “How was your day?” asked Michael.                                                         “I accomplished a lot today; I’m all caught up with my notes, and I only have two visits tomorrow morning.” Ann is a social worker who keeps her clients in their homes instead of nursing homes. She orders anything and everything to help maintain the comfort and safety of her clients in their own homes. Ann’s job was demanding, with over a hundred clients to keep track of every day. She makes appointments for house visits to make observations on their environment and safety in the home. If needed, many of her clients are ordered aids to help with their daily living activities, like bathing, laundry, meals, and assisting with their medications. Others may need medical equipment like walkers, canes, grab bars in the bathroom, and a power lift recliner to improve their quality of life. I sat down on the couch next to my wife. Leo came over for a much-needed belly rub and back massage. “I invited Laura and Tony over for dinner on Christmas Eve,” said Ann. Michael was still giving Leo a back massage. “I can never understand what our daughter saw in that son-of-a-bitch.; the guy is a total asshole,” said Michael. Ann didn’t say a word and pushed the remote button to continue watching her show. Michael got up from his chair with some difficulty. “Are you all right?” Asked Ann in a sympathetic voice.                                                                   “I’m fine.” Michael walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He twisted the cap off and threw it into the trash can. He took a couple of good swigs of his beverage and called Leo. “Come on, boy! I’ll take you outside.” Leo jumped up and ran to the door with excitement. As the dog went out to do his business, Michael stood inside enjoying his beer by the doorway, waiting for Leo. The dog returned five minutes later with his tail wagging, knowing he was about to be fed his favorite meal, Gravy Train. After feeding his best friend, Michael took a long, hot shower, trying to relax his body’s muscles. His wife, Ann, knocked on the bathroom door. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” Michael usually responds when Ann knocks on the bathroom door. “Michael? Ann knocked again. “Michael, can you hear me?” Still no answer. “Michael! Are you alright? Still, Michael has not responded as the shower continues to run. Michael never takes a shower this long, thought Ann, now worried. Ann grabbed the door handle; it was locked. “Michael!” his wife yells. She shakes the door handle vigorously, trying desperately to enter the bathroom, but with no success. Ann quickly puts on her tennis shoes and begins kicking the door as hard as possible. “Come on, you son-of-bitch.” Suddenly, the door flies open and hits the bathroom wall. “Michael!” Yells Ann as she yanks back the shower curtain with force. Michael was lying on his side in the tub. Ann, shaking, grabs Michael’s shoulders and turns him towards her. His face was a pale blue; she retrieved her cell phone and called 9-1-1. Ann carefully reached under her husband’s arms and pulled as hard as she could to place him flat on the bathroom floor so she could begin CPR. His feet slid over the side of the tub and plopped on the floor; Ann screamed, “Michael, can you hear me?” With no response, Ann began CPR on Michael until the Ambulance arrived. Three minutes later, Ann could hear the sirens getting close. Ann was becoming exhausted, keeping up with compressions and breaths. The medics opened the front door with their medical equipment and gurney.

“We’ll take from here, Ma’am,” said the young medic with bottomless blue eyes and short, blonde hair; I’m old enough to be his mother. He placed a towel over his privates and listened with his stethoscope; there was a slow, erratic heartbeat. They immediately hooked up the Defiberator to his chest. The voice on the machine says to give a shock to correct his rhythm. After the shock was distributed, his heart rhythm was normal but weak. The medics placed him on the gurney and wheeled him out into the ambulance. “Where are you taking him?” Ann asked. “Fairview Hospital,” said the young man as he set up an I.V. and positioned an oxygen mask on Michael's face. As soon as the back door closed, the ambulance's sirens roared like a lion, letting the public know to step aside. The medics arrived at the hospital’s emergency entrance. Both medics pulled the gurney out to let the legs drop on the outside concrete. As they wheeled him in, a doctor joined them and told them to place him in room five, the surgical room. Ann arrived shortly after that at the hospital. She quickly entered the emergency entrance and announced that she was Michael’s wife. The security guards told her to put all objects on the conveyor belt to be x-rayed. Ann was instructed to raise her arms horizontally to be body scanned. She was cleared to enter the hospital. She approached the reception desk and asked where her husband was. “Can you please tell me where my husband is located?” 

“Your name, please? 

“Michael Bar,” said Ann in a worried voice. The receptionist plucked the keys to her computer. “It says here that your husband, Michael, is still in surgery. You can take the elevators down the hall on the right to the fourth floor. The nurse at the desk will answer any questions you may have.”

“Thank you,” said Ann and quickly walked down to the elevators and pushed the button three times. It seemed like an eternity for an elevator to arrive on the first floor. She looked up and noticed that the two elevators on the tenth and fifteenth floors were still stalled. “Shit!” Said Ann. She decided to take the steps. Ann slammed open the door and ran up the steps to the fourth floor, exhausted. She opened the door and quickly walked over to the nurses’s station.           

 “Hi, I’m Ann Barr; I’m trying to get information on my husband, Michael Bar.” The nurse looked at Ann with a pleasant smile. “Let’s check here,” she said as she plucked her keys from the computer. “Michael is still in surgery. The surgeon will send us a message when Michael is admitted to the Intensive Care Unit.”                                                          “O.K., Thank you so much.”

“Here, take this beeper. We will contact you when Michael is out of surgery.”                        “Thank you.”

“The cafeteria is on the first floor. The food is delicious,” said the RN with a sympathetic look.

“I can’t eat right now.”

“I understand; a lounge is right down to the right with a TV, coffee, and some danishes.”

“Thank you.” Ann walked down the hall and entered the lounge. No one was in the room, so I sat in one of the worn-out recliners. Her mind was racing with crazy thoughts: Is he still alive? What if he dies on the surgery table? What will I do? No, Michael is fine and will be out of surgery soon. Ann’s right foot nervously tapped the tile floor and periodically stared at the beeper. After another hour of internal torment, a young black woman in her late thirties entered the lounge wearing light green scrubs. Her matching face mask hung around her neck, and green shoe covers were still on her feet. 

“Hello, Are you Mrs. Barr?” Asked the surgeon.

“Yes, how is my husband doctor?”

“Your husband is doing fine. His heart was fragile because of three areas of blockage. We performed a triple bypass on Michael, but he is doing well. It will be a rough road ahead with therapy and a lot of rest. We will be prescribing him a few heart medications to help his heart heal. That will be explained to you both when he is released. Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Barr?”

“What caused this to happen, doctor?”

“Stress on the heart and an accumulation of cholesterol in the vessels around his heart. Over the years. Michael has heart disease that must be monitored every six months.”

“Didn’t see this coming, doctor.”

“Nobody does unless there are specific signs to order tests.”

“How long do you think Michael must stay in the hospital?”

“Well, that depends on him; we must oversee him for forty-eight hours. If everything goes well, he should leave the hospital within two weeks, maybe sooner.”

“When could I see him.”

“As soon as he gets out of the Intensive Care Unit, like I said earlier, usually within forty-eight hours.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“If you have any more questions, don’t hesitate to contact me anytime, Mrs. Barr.”

“Again, thank you, doctor.”

“No problem, take care, Mrs. Barr.” Surprisingly, Michael was out of I.C.U. Within twenty-four hours. He was assigned to room #502 on the fifth floor. As soon as he entered the room, he still felt groggy but noticed he was in a private space, which he was grateful for apparent reasons. Within five minutes, nurses were all over him, taking blood, checking blood pressure, hooking up a heart monitor, putting stockings on his legs to prevent blood clots, and checking the stitches on his chest. “We are going to take good care of you, Mr. Barr,” said Jessica; her name tag was the giveaway.

“You are so cute, Jessica.”

 “Everyone is cute to you now because of the amount of drugs they pumped into you, Mr. Barr,” said Jessica, laughing. “When your anesthesia wears off, you might have another opinion of me, Mr. Barr,” said Jessica, giggling and inserting an I.V. in his arm. 

Everything was clockwork, medical professionalism at its best. That evening, my wife, Ann, arrived at the door and knocked. 

“Come in.”

“How’s my handsome boy?”

“Sore and groggy but doing fine,” he said in a tired soft voice.

Ann leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Did that hurt?”

“No, how about the other cheek.”

“I see you didn’t lose your sense of humor. I brought you some magazines and a couple of novels to read.”

“Thank you, babe, I appreciate it. Sure, don’t feel like reading right now.”

“You look exhausted, Michael. I want you to rest well; I will return after work tomorrow afternoon.”

In an exasperated and dizzy voice, Michael said, “O.K. Honey.”

The following day, Michael felt better, but his chest hurt to a level seven. He pushed the button to get the nurse. A few seconds later, a voice came over the tiny speaker. “Yes, can I help you?” 

“I need pain meds; my chest is hurting.”

“OK, I will let your nurse know.”

“Thank you.” 

As Michael was rubbing his chest, there was a knock at the door. I looked, and there stood a priest. “Come in.”

“Good Morning, Michael. I’m Father O’Brian. Would you like to receive the Sacrament?”

“Yes, please.”

Priest: “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Now let us pray together to the Father in the words given to us by our Lord Jesus Christ.”

Michael and Father O’Brian said the Our Father together. Father holds up the Host to Michael.

“Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the world's sins. Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”

Together, they recited, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should come under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.” Father distributes the Host to Michael.

“Body of Christ.”

“Amen,” said Michael. Thank you, Father. I appreciate you visiting me.”

“Of course, Michael. Is there anything more I can do for you?”

“Yes, Father, can you sit for a moment?”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?”

“What is the meaning of sarcasm, Father?”

“Sarcasm is the use of irony or convey contempt. Sarcasm originates from the Greek verb sarkazein, which means " tear flesh or speak bitterly. Research says that sarcasm is merely thinly veiled meanness. People who constantly practice sarcasm are insecure or have latent anger, a way to assert dominance over others. Sarcasm is also a tool to demonstrate intellectual superiority or wit over others. Lastly, Michael they are showcasing their intelligence or quick thinking, which can create a divide or alienation with those they communicate with. I know that’s a lot to take in, Michael, but may I ask why what troubles you?” 

The nurse came in to distribute Michael’s pain medication. “One moment, Father, it won’t be long.” 

The nurse left the room, and Michael continued his conversation. “Father, my sister-in-law's husband is a sarcastic bastard; sorry, Father, I didn’t mean…”

“Go on, Michael.”

Every time we see him, he always makes some sarcastic comment to Ann, my family, and me; sometimes, I want to beat the living daylights out of him. Father, I’m afraid I will let loose on him one these times.”

“Did you ever confront him about it?”

“No, we did explain the extreme sarcasm he displays to my sister-in-law when we're together, hoping she will settle it.”

“Did she get through to him not to display this behavior when you're together?”

“No, he ignores her comments and doesn’t respect her. He treats her like crap and belittles her.”

“Michael, do you think his behavior toward you and your family contributed to your heart attack?”

“After Ann told me that they were coming over for Christmas dinner, I felt my heart racing and the anger inside me starting to build rapidly. Ann knew I was upset and didn’t say a word to me. Father, why would she invite someone constantly brutal to us? My patience is really running thin with that idiot Father."

“I’m guessing your sister-in-law won’t visit without him, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Ann must make an important decision. She must tell her sister that her husband is no longer welcome in your home until his behavior changes. Ann’s sister should always be welcomed. Michael, your family's health and happiness comes first. You don’t need ignorance from one individual to ruin your holiday season get-togethers."

“Thank you, Father. I guess sometimes you can’t hold back.”

"I hope everything works out for you, Michael. God Bless."

Father O’Brian left the room. The next day, Ann arrived, and we talked about my conversation with Father O'Brian. She agreed that her sister's husband should not be welcomed to their home for any occasion because of his ongoing disrespectful behavior toward others. Unfortunately, her sister will not leave his side. Her decision to choose her husband's rude behavior towards herself and her family is sad. However, it ends the constant harmful, sarcastic comments tearing Michael and Ann's family and friends apart. Now, Michael's heart can begin to heal.

The End.