Quick Poll

Is Memorial Day an 'off day' for you or a 'work day' with your business open?

Recent Polls

Blogs

Angela McRae

Tea with friends

Deberah Williams

Everyday Finesse

Lorrie Lynch

Who's News

Published Sunday, January 15, 2012 in Opinion

Bedside bell

Mom had a bedside bell. She kept it by her own bed until one of us was sick, then as if by magic it would appear by our bedside.

There was a lot of comfort knowing that all one had to do was reach over, pick up the dainty little bell by the tall stalk and know that mom's ears were trained to listen for the delicate tinkling sound. She would arrive like an angel of mercy, eager to bring anything needed for the patient.

And then I grew up.

I actually started out with a bell by my bedside, a similar dainty one that I envisioned using for my family as mom did hers. We actually did use it for many years until, lacking a bugle in the house, it became the only mechanism suitable to emit a war cry for a troop of overactive G.I. Joes who were determined to take down a herd of unsuspecting Beanie Babies.

Sadly, the bell was shattered in battle, forcing us to utilize the basics to summon one another during times of distress. We had to yell from room to room when needing soup, cough syrup, meds or whatever else might keep us alive until a case of cooties passed.

I thought of mom's bedside bell very recently when I became ill with a nasty dose of bronchitis. It started with a cough and became full-fledged laryngitis in no time at all. It was further compounded by lack of communication. Let me explain the challenges of verbal communication in my household.

Ninja Man is not a listener. I love him more than grits love cheese but the fact is he has mastered the art of non-response to an art form. And understandably so; he has been in avid -- yes -- daily practice for at least 35 years, which is coincidentally, the number of years my mouth has been running avidly in his direction.

When I had laryngitis for five days last week he got a huge break. There was no calling his name or even trying to talk about anything at all. I'm pretty sure he enjoyed it a bit too much. "John," I whispered, for some reason expecting him to respond. "John?" Though I whispered a bit louder, he still didn't hear me. "JOHN!" He had no choice but to hear my raspy call because by this point I was standing right in front of him.

Finally, the bronchitis had gotten the best of me and all I could do was take my meds and lie down. I thought of mom's bedside bell and wished I could ring it and have her appear with hot soup, juice and a new box of tissues. It was then I saw my cell phone on the nightstand and realized that texting is the new bedside bell. I picked it up and sent a text to my husband's phone, the one sitting by his side in the living room. "Juice?" I wrote.

Faster than I could whisper, "John," I got a reply. "Sure!" and I heard him get up out of his recliner. The fridge door opened, a glass was filled and in less time than it would have taken to call his name again I had a fresh glass of juice by my side.

"Anything else?" He asked, smiling. I blinked. Shocked. Oh, this could work.

I shook my head, not knowing how long this could last and certainly not wanting to use up all my options in one delivery. I drank some juice then slept a while.

Text: "Hungry."

Reply: (though he could have come in the room to talk, he seemed to like this texting thing.) "What would you like?"

Text: "Soup. Cheese toast. Juice."

I heard him in the kitchen before he even finished his reply.

Text: "On the way!" He even took time to add a smiley face.

I don't know if it was the TV tray he brought in filled with everything I'd requested or if it was the fact that he was so eager to help, but seeing him walk in with lunch for me was the sweetest thing ever. I whispered in my laryngitis voice, "thank you." He didn't reply.

As I picked up my spoon to eat the soup I heard him sit down in his chair. Seconds later a text message chimed into my phone. "You're welcome," it said.

Texting is the new bedside bell. I'm loving it.

Kathy Bohannon is a Georgia Press Association award winner and regular contributor to the Newnan Times-Herald. Kathy can be reached at kathybohan@yahoo.com.

Comment On This Story

Times-Herald.com does not necessarily agree with the comments posted below. Responsibility of comments rests solely with the writer. Comments posted in ALL CAPS will be deleted.

Submission of a comment does not guarantee publication. Comments will be posted by a moderator after being scanned for abusive language, relevance, etc. See our Comments FAQ for more details.