A Day Without a Phone

I recently survived 24 hours without my cell phone.  Here's what happened.  I got home from work,  walked into the kitchen and plugged in my phone.  My phone did not buzz and the screen did not light up to tell me that it was charging.  I pressed the power button.  No response.  I tried again and again.  Still no response.  I hollered for Cassie to come.  She advised that my phone appeared to be dead.

I began further diagnostic steps.  First, I plugged my phone into my computer.  My computer couldn't even recognize the poor bugger as a device.  Next, I took my lifeless phone out to the car and tried to activate Bluetooth from my car radio.  My radio display spewed the message, "No device available."

"No,"  I wailed.  Denial, the first stage of grief was setting in. This was immediately followed by a wave of isolation.

Les suggested that I take it to the AT&T store for a possible diagnosis.  Cassie went along for moral support.  Of course, the store was closed for the evening.

Cassie said that she was sorry, but that this situation was kind of like a person's heart.  She gently explained that sometimes, when a person's heart gets out of rhythm, doctors can stop the heart and then start it again.  But, according to Cassie, this wasn't the situation with my phone because it had stopped by itself.

Realizing that I would be without a phone for the next 24 hours, I sent up a warning flare on Facebook.

The reality of my loss overwhelmed me as I entered the second stage of grieving - anger.  How could my phone do this to me? 

How was I going to wake up on time without my phone alarm?  How would I know what to wear to work if I couldn't check the weather?  What if one of the kids' teachers needed to contact me during the day?  Les is not allowed to take a cell phone into his office.  And, for some reason, he's never able to answer his work phone.  My mind was really racing.  What if one of the girls got hurt and the school nurse couldn't reach me?  How was Cassie going to contact me to let me know she was up in the morning? 

Thus, I entered the third stage of grief - bargaining.  I convinced Les to set an alarm on his cell phone.  I told Cassie that she wouldn't be able to contact me in the morning.  I would call her from a land line once I got to work.   Les suggested I start researching phones so that I was prepared to buy a new one. 

The next morning the alarm on Les' phone woke me up, even though he had left his phone down in the family room.  As I left for work, I dropped my phone into my purse, just in case it decided to start working.  Without my phone, I was forced to listen to the radio as I drove.  I called Cassie after I got to work and reminded her that she wouldn't be able to text me when school was over.

I didn't miss my phone until lunchtime.  Depression, the next stage of grieving set in as I searched the Internet.  The prices that I'd seen listed for the iPhone 6 were actually the monthly service costs, not the cost of the phone.  Then I realized that Cassie's phone was about the same age as mine.  What if hers died too?  We'd have to buy two new phones.  That would really increase our monthly phone bill.

Acceptance, the final stage of grief, arrived as I was walking to my car.  I took my phone from my purse and stroked it gently.  There was a brief flicker on the screen and suddenly, my phone sprang back to life!  I shouted joyously across the parking garage to one of my colleagues.

I sent a text to Cassie, letting her know that my phone was back.  Immediately, my phone chirped and an emoji blowing a kiss filled the screen.  Yes, my phone was back.

As I neared home, the robot ringtone sounded.

"Hello, Lacey," I answered.

"Hi, Mommy.  I'm home," she said.

"My phone's working!" I told her.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes, how do you think you called me?" I replied.

"Oh, yeah," she said.  "Well, I'm going to hang up now.  See you soon."

"See you soon," I answered.

I could survive without my phone alarm, without the weather app and without being able to check email day and night.  But, I love my phone because it lets me know that my girls are okay.  When my phone gives out for good, I will replace it.  And, when that new phone dies, I will pay to replace it with whatever the latest technology might be.  Staying in touch with my kids is priceless.