Feeling Naked - No Phone

by Fran McNabb

On my way to a doctor’s appointment this morning, I realized I’d forgotten my cell phone. No

big deal, right? Wrong. I wasn’t going far, just a couple of miles, but I felt vulnerable, and yes, naked.

 

What would I do if I had car trouble? Flat tire? A wreck? What if I stopped at the grocery store on my way home? How would I call my husband to see if he’d thought of something else we needed?

My mind spun. I felt alone. I thought about going back to the house to get the phone, but I didn’t want to be late so I moved along with the slow flow of traffic. I arrived at the doctor’s office a few minutes early, checked in, then took my seat along with the four other people waiting for their names to be called.

 

The first thing I did was to reach into my purse for my phone, but alas, I remembered I didn’t have it with me. I looked at the others in the lobby, but no one acknowledged me. How could they? All of them had their heads down looking at their cell phones.

 

I wanted to giggle. This little waiting room wasn’t just a doctor’s lobby. It was a tiny slice of the world around us, made up of people living and working alongside of others, but most of the time isolating themselves from the masses around them.

 We’ve become a nation dependent on technology. The cell phone is just one of the pieces of technology that has become a necessary part of our lives. Is that a bad thing? Certainly not. I could write for pages about how the phone has made our lives easier, but not today. Today as I think about the waiting room, I wonder how many lives we’ve neglected to see around us because we were so engrossed in our emails, texts, and internet.

 When the nurse called my name, I picked up my purse, smiled to the young man who actually looked up when I stood. I realized if I had had my phone, I would’ve been just like them—isolated and much too involved in a tiny piece of technology to see those around me.

After my appointment, I didn’t stop at the store. I rushed home and the first thing I did was to locate my phone. I didn’t like feeling naked. I wanted to feel connected.

Fran McNabb and her husband live along the Gulf Coast where they raised their two sons. She has used the beaches, islands, and waterways in this area for many of her seven published books. When she and her husband are not boating or fishing, she loves presenting writing workshops. Visit her at www.FranMcNabb.com and mcnabbf@bellsouth.net.