ANSWER THE PHONE!!!

So, Iris has a terrible habit of not hanging up her landline phone properly.

It’s a cordless phone that you either have to press ‘end’ on, or place back into the receiver properly to terminate a phone call.  Iris will call you, leave a message for you to ring her, and then because she hasn’t hung her phone up properly, you can’t get through to her.

Then, she doesn’t ‘hear’ her mobile phone (which is so loud that it creates a sonic boom), and doesn’t answer that either.

Why am I telling you this?

Well, the other night I got back into the car after torturing myself at the gym, and upon checking my phone, I had a missed call from Mum’s mobile.

So, I ring the mobile.  What a surprise: no answer.

Now, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere that night, so I tried the land line.  It rang out.  If she doesn’t hang it up properly, it gives an engaged tone.  No, it just rang out.

From the time I left the gym in Wallan and drove to Kilmore (approximately seven minutes), I reckon I called both phones over twenty times.  No answer.

I started to panic.  Why would she ring me, then not at least answer one of them?  Maybe she’s had a fall?

I start to panic even more.

I pull up in front of her unit, and her car is there.  I know she has trouble with her legs, so she can’t walk great distances.  I feel confident that she’s in the unit.

Walk up to the front door, and it’s locked.  Of course: she’s not expecting anyone to call in.  So, I ring the bell.

Now let me tell you about this bell.  I bought it for her, because the speaker is portable.  So, if she was in the back yard or the garage, she could take it out with her, and if someone was at the front door, she would know. 

Same as the house phone: it’s portable so she can take it out in the yard with her, because she’s as deaf as a fucken post, and wouldn’t hear it ringing from ten meters away!

So she doesn’t answer the bell, but I can hear the TV inside, and hear the stoopid cat meowing.

I start to panic even more.

I run back to the car (well, my version of running anyway, which looks more like a person having a stumbling fit), grab the set of keys to her house, and run back to the front door.

Have you ever been in a panic, and had to deal with unfamiliar door keys?  They all look the same, but you don’t know which one is for what lock, so you try every key in about two seconds, but nothing opens.  Then you have to calm down and start again, because you know these keys open the frickin’ door, and all you can think is that the clock’s ticking.

So, I finally get into the house, and it’s eerily quiet.  Even with the TV in the kitchen going, it seems strange.

I hurry through the house, calling ‘Mum! Mum!’ at the top of my voice, and try not to stumble over the stupid fucken cat that’s selected that exact moment to express that it really does like me after all, and is trying in vain to wrap itself around my ankles.

Nothing.

Then I see the back door: the glass door is shut, but the wire door is open.  When she’s inside, she has both shut. 

Iris is outside.

OMG! My first reaction is that she’s fallen down the decking stairs.  There are only a couple of steps from the decking into the yard, but no rail (which Charlie hasn’t built yet!!), and Mum has to be very careful when she uses them.  What if she’s fallen?

I rip open the sliding door; no Iris.  ‘Mum!’ I yell again, and she casually waddles out of the garage.

‘Yes dear?’  She looks at me, a couple of books in her hands.  She’s obviously been going through the boxes in the garage, looking for something.

I just stare at her for a moment, and then burst into tears.  ‘Why the fuck haven’t you got your phone with you?’

She blinked a couple of times.  ‘I forgot all about it…’

‘You rang me, Ma… I’ve been ringing you phones for ages… I’ve been ringing the door bell … I was even walking through your house screaming out for you… you didn’t hear any of it?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry dear… I was looking for this photo album for tomorrow…’ she trailed off.  ‘Why are you so upset?’

‘I thought you were like dead or something… you didn’t answer… you are supposed to take your phone with you… or the doorbell….’ I sobbed.

‘Oh poppit… I’m all right…’ she waddled over and wiped my tears from my cheeks.

‘I’m not!’ I sobbed.  ‘You have me a heart attack, Ma… I’ve had enough of them…’ and gave her a massive hug.

Lesson number one: Iris is precious to me.

Lesson number two: I don’t think Iris will step two feet outside her doors without either the phone(s) or the doorbell ever again, because I think my tearful reaction frightened her more that I had frightened myself.

Peace out.