Agraphia Medical Tragicomedy

Nightmares

Last night I had a nightmare that I was given a pager by some shadowy hospital administrator. It was about the size of a car battery and sounded like an air-raid siren when it went off. With a sickly smile he told me to make sure I was wearing it at all times, and then melted back into the darkness.

I should say at this point that like the good Dr. Blackman, I hate my cellphone almost more than I can bear. Don't get me wrong, being able to call anyone from anywhere is pretty nifty, but I hate people trying to get in touch with me. In fact, I've gotten so adept at thumbing the mute button through my pants that I rarely pick up my phone any more at all. The less people expect to get in touch with me, the less they will. Win-win!

Unfortunately the reality is that I'll have a pager within 6 months, so any hope of not being at someone else's beck and call is a moot point. My pager will wake me from my sleep, interrupt at dinner, and shriek during movies. All in all, kind of like a baby, except that babies are cute and cuddly.

The good news is, I guarantee I'm going to get really good at conveniently having my pager go off when I want an excuse to leave the room.