Bricked
The terror of disconnection
Connection is critically important for all of us. We are social beings, dependent on others from the time we are born.
But it was not until recently that I discovered just how dependent I am on my cellphone to keep me connected. I grew up with an old fashioned wired phone on the wall of our kitchen. If we wanted to make a call from outside the house, we used a pay phone. At some point, cell phones became so cheap and easy to use that I gave up my landline phone altogether. I use my cellphone now to make calls, but it has become much more than that, of course. I use it for reading, connecting to the internet, keeping notes, playing music, keeping time, playing games, and much more.
I still don’t know how I did it, but somehow I managed to delete the eSim from my phone.
For those of you who aren’t techies, an eSim is the little piece of software that tells your phone how to connect to a cellular network. Without it, your phone can’t make or receive normal phone calls or texts, and can’t receive cellular data. It can only connect to the internet if you have WiFi.
I tried to contact Verizon support on WiFi, but I couldn’t verify my account because they needed me to tell them the code they sent me, and I wasn’t able to get a text. Their internet site gave me a phone number to call, but I couldn’t make a phone call without cell service. I was stuck. My phone was a brick.
I got a little panicky. I immediately began to think about all the people I needed to call. What if I got sick? How would I call an ambulance? What if there was a fire? Or a break-in? I knew that the Verizon store would not open until 9 o ‘clock the next morning, and I began to think I might not make it.
This is how crazy we get when we allow our minds to run wild. I felt my blood pressure increase, my heart was beating faster, and I was restless. I began to use some of the techniques I use with anxious patients. I asked myself, what are the odds that something really bad will happen in the next twelve hours? Not high, I thought. Low. Maybe 3 percent. I meditated. I thought about alternatives. I live close enough to walk to a police station. I have nice neighbors who would probably let me use their phone. And still, I felt intensely disconnected and uncomfortable.
I feel badly for young people who have their phone on all the time. They have been raised with it. I understand now a little bit about how they feel when their parents or a teacher tells them to “put the phone down.” It’s like asking them to stop using part of their brain.
Then I remembered—my wife has a phone. It works, and she’s pretty nice about sharing. I went to bed, and slept pretty well. Then I immediately went to the Verizon store at 9:01, and it took three and a half minutes to set me right again. The teenager who helped me said, “Don’t worry. My grandmother did this too. It’s an easy fix.”
