Saturday, March 26, 2011

Phone Calls

Our land line phone has stopped working. However, we did not realize it for some time. We thought we were getting crank calls. We would answer the phone and could hear talking and background noises, but no one would respond to our speaking and then hang up. The first thought was telemarketers.

Our friend Anna called, did not get a response from us, so called my mobile. That is when we realized there was something wrong. Now the question lingers: is it the phone or the service? Yesterday, I had a get-together with a former student, Imola. I was so looking forward to spending quality time with her. Ron was invited, but he thought he was booked to give a tour at the museum. As I was leaving, he was calling the cable company to have them check on the phone line, but was thinking that he would leave shortly for the museum.

I met Imola at one of my favorite coffee shops and we are enmeshed in a deep conversation when my mobile rings. When I looked at the caller ID, I see my own face with our home number. I answer it, but nothing. Strange! Ron should have left for the museum by this time. Thinking it may have been a misfire, I ignored it. Five minutes later, it rang again. Same thing. I answered and said "If you can hear me, call from a mobile phone." I then called Ron, only to get a busy signal. He should be at the museum by now. If he turned his phone off would I get a busy signal?

This cycle repeated every 5-7 minutes for the next half hour. As much as I was trying to concentrate on the conversation while enjoying Imola's company, I had mental flashes of Ron on the floor. The scenario in my head was that he crawled to the land line trying to reach me for help. The repeated calls were a signal that he was in danger, needing me to rescue him. The busy signal on his mobile was easily dismissed. I had bought him a new Samsung Galaxy i900, but he was still not used to its functions. He must have dialed someone and left it on. Fear and concern are mounting. I am getting edgier by the minute and soon that is reduced to by the second. Finally, I apologize and explain I need to go.

After rushing home, I am preparing myself for what I may find. My heart is pounding like African drums signalling dangers ahead. I run in the door and Ron is standing there, haggard looking, but otherwise nothing traumatic. I jump into my litany of concerns accusing him of causing my distress.

He was on the phone with the cable company who provides our phone. They had him try a multitude of different things, but after each one, had him test the phone. He did so by calling my mobile after each and every test the cable company had him run to check on the phone. As it turned out, his museum tour was not until Saturday. This will give Ron some time to have his bruises heal. The phone still doesn't work.

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