A Phone Call

I don’t spend a lot of time on the phone anymore. What with email, facebook, texts, and all, the simple phone call is a rarity. I’m also finding it more difficult to hold the phone up to my ear for any length of time. So, our land lines usually just sit and look pretty on the tables made for them! Occasionally, though, I will take the time, and expend the energy for a call.

I checked the caller ID last Saturday when the phone rang. Whew! It wasn’t a company calling about a late payment, but instead an old acquaintance. I had taught two of her three children, and spent a great deal of time with her youngest, who had a slight learning disability. I felt comfortable around her and her husband, we shared seats at the boys’ sporting events, and they invited me to parties for the kids. As with many such relationships, we lose touch as the kids move on. Once in a while I would hear from her, and we’d catch up on each others’ lives.

“Lily” was a school nurse (why are so many of my friends nurses?) but she took early retirement a few years ago. She called me then and we got chatted. I let her know I had been diagnosed with MS, and that I’d been forced to leave the world of academia, and go on disability. She was saddened with the news and we switched to other topics. When she called on Saturday, we talked about the ‘children’ and about how nicely they had grown into adults.

Then she said, “I know when we last talked, you said your walking was difficult. How’s that going?” Do I use the old stand-by and tell her I’m fine, or do I answer honestly? I opted for the latter. I let her know that this was a chronic, progressive disease, and I’d only get worse over time. She’s a nurse, and I think she already knew this. But I went on to say that I usually use a walker and sometimes a wheelchair or scooter. Then I added that my right hand was useless, and the left one was showing signs of the same. (I left out the bathroom issues – TMI!) There was a pause at the other end, then a tear-filled voice, “I hate hearing that. It makes me so sad.”

 Again I had to make a choice: do I make her feel better with some soppy response, or do I just say, “Well, you asked.” This time I chose door number one, and I said that I really was fine with it all (lie), I found so many things to occupy my time (bigger lie), and things could always be worse (Pinocchio’s nose is really growing!) I think I do this so people won’t see me as a complainer; instead, they’ll think of me as being so brave in the face of a crippling menace. Lily is a sweet and kind person, and I know she’ll relate this to others, and I don’t want to encounter people with long, sad faces when they see me.

 So the phone call ended on an up note, but it also made me realize what an actor (liar) I’ve become. Does anyone else try to present themselves differently? Do you feel better or worse for it?

 Peace, Muff