I have come to look at life these days as B.C. and A.C. -- as in, before we get the call that changes our life, and after.
It can be a good call, of course: You are cancer free! Your kid got into Northwestern! You got the job! The part! Those are wonderful and hopeful moments, but it is the other kind of call that levels the long-lasting blow. It is truly amazing how deeply our moods can be affected by what we hear on the other end. Your response may be, "I will never smile again"; or, "Thank you, this is all I will ever ask for again." Neither will turn out to be true, but how vulnerable we are to the highs and lows transmitted over the phone.
Whenever I hear or read about some horrible incident -- especially those involving a young person -- I immediately think of those answering the call. If we have never been on the receiving end ourselves, we all know someone who has. My friend Dick was in the middle of his men's group meeting when his phone rang unexpectedly. The others felt helpless as Dick ran out, having just learned that his young granddaughter had been hit by a car. Another friend got his call at work in the middle of a production meeting. His college-aged son had gone off his meds and suffered a manic attack. He was in the hospital, where he would spend most of the following semester.
While on a spring vacation with my two young children, I got the call that my father had died. My first thought was when to tell them... but should I immediately ruin the trip they had so anticipated? My second thought was that I had been waiting all my life for this moment. Suddenly, five decades passed before me, and yet they seemed like a blur. All those years with my father suddenly felt like nothing compared to knowing there would be no more. Was I as communicative as I could have been with him, especially after my mother died? When was the last time I had told him I loved him?
Sad as it was, his death was somewhat expected. He was 88 and had been ailing and depressed. It's the ones that come out of the blue that jar us. I used to tremble with fear when one of those hushed and creepy voices (erroneously thinking our number still belonged to a prostitute) would ring in the middle of the night. Now that I have a child out there living by herself, I would be relieved if the late night call were only that sleazy voice inquiring about my attire.
Some of this may seem antiquated, what with the way we live electronically now. I am assuming, first, that this kind of life-shattering news still has the decency to come from a real voice and not an email or text. Second, regardless of whether our phone is a mobile or land-line, the words will be the same and they will shatter just the same. There are certainly variations on this theme, which are equally painful. What if you get the call asking you to make the call bearing unbearable information? There is a powerful moment in the film "In the Bedroom" in which the father has just learned his child has died and must now tell his wife. As he watches her gleefully conducting her school choir, his face -- knowing that this will be her last happy moment -- is hard to watch.
How about making the call to your doctor to get those results? A man I know was literally paralyzed when it came to picking up the phone to receive his latest PSAs. (Remember when we wanted higher test scores?) One woman says her therapist insists she see this as "two calls": the first to the doctor for the results, the second to the therapist (at any time of day) to help soothe the anxiety.
Then there are the accidental calls, brought to us by something called the "butt dial." This is when you are not aware the phone in your back pocket has gone off and dialed someone automatically. I heard of one man who was on a ski lift with his mistress when his went off. Soon, his wife back home was listening to some startling and obviously intimate conversation. That's the call that ended his marriage and he never even knew it happened.
The list goes on. But it is not about the list, ultimately, or how many people we know who have answered their phones in one mood and had their lives changed in an instant. It is about how we live as we wait for the call and if we are prepared to handle its impact. Maybe we can never truly prepare ourselves for something like this, but we can remind ourselves that every moment and every action, counts. The blows will come and they will hurt, but hopefully we will handle them without regret.
Joseph Nowinski, Ph.D.: The New Grief: How Modern Medicine Is Changing Dying, Death and Loss
Curtis "50 Cent" Jackson and Robert Greene: Turn Shit Into Sugar
Iris Erlingsdottir: Rehab For "Terminally Unique" Lawyers
Life Unexpected DVD change. - The CW Lounge - Message Boards
Unexpected Changes? What To Do In The Meantime
I must say this article was beautifully written. Your brand of writing actually reminds me of my own. I have been writing a screenplay and after reading this you truly inspired me to fill that dark dark hole known as writer's block. I for one hate communicating via telephone. Everything about it makes me cringe! You offered an introspective look into an aspect of our daily lives that we don't pay attention to. It is important to note however that these tiny moments of insanity are not limited to phone calls and that they occur through different sneaky avenues, but as I deduced from your piece of mind is that it is an inevitability and coming to terms with such a sharp shock of negativity is necessary for dealing with tiny moments of this nature. After reading this I have come out both inspired and enlightened. Thank you so very very much!
kicked me in the gut. I could not breath normally for many minutes. One was about my mother in law.
And then the excruciating pain was being felt by the person I love the most. Each call and each death was unto itself. At some point along the way I actually felt I was being readied for something.
All the calls were about deaths that were either understandable in the way we can say they were old or they contracted a cancer. Harder but all too common one of the deaths was due to a motor vehicle accident. It was brutally sudden and took a young life.
None were like the sixth call a few years later. It was about the cold blooded murder by gun of a close family member. That was utterly devastating. The pieces are still not back in place for so many of my family and friends. For much of a year and sometimes still I am phobic regarding incoming phone calls.
There were no easy lessons learned with such calls about death. I did learn to approach family and friends, tears in my eyes, arms open wide, and just hug them for a long time and with incredible tenderness.
whether you receive them or make one.
i think the worst is having a sibling in war, and your parents are afraid of every phone call and every un identified car that pulls up on your driveway.
i saw my father go into the bathroom and lock the door, and heard his crying,
just because a black car pulled up on the driveway.
January 4th, 1999 a call at the same phone at work telling me my father had died of a heart attack. Again, I was the one who called my remaining sister.
October 31st, 2008 I got to call my sister and tell her our Mum had been run over at a crosswalk and killed.
The phone has been involved in a lot of misery for my family and I. I hate when it rings.
Fear generates stress. People who live in fear of random occurrences are just increasing their own stress and are likely putting stress on the people around them, like their immediate family. The real problem is fear and not the actual phone call. Stress is the major cause of illness, so do some good for yourself and for your family and stop worrying.
As an alternative, learn some meditation. If you are worried about contingencies, try to educate yourself more, and you might find ways of improving your odds for a good outcome.
I'm sorry for not being more sensitive in my posting, but I got your attention. Fear mongering is used way too much for manipulative purposes in our society, and this article seems to be a good example of it.
Ouch - that's a bitter one to swallow. I am so sorry.