Lucky and the Cellular Gods

Today was going to be a day of sorrow. Posted here today you would have found either an obituary or a eulogy. But there must be a cellular God, or the God I believe in has a sense of humor and was just playing with me.

It all began on Saturday. I was in Florida at a very nice mall with my cyber sister, Megan. After a very long day of shopping and before we sat down for a late lunch, we decided to use the restroom. It was there that she decided that she had had enough. She couldn’t take it any longer. Life with me was just too much to bear. She decided to end it all by jumping in the toilet. Luckily for both of us, it was before I had attended to my business, if you know what I mean, and I quickly fished her out. I shook the water from her and began frantically trying to dry her off with toilet paper. I laid her up on the toilet paper holder and quickly finished my business as Megan called out from one of the other stalls, “What happened?” At first we both laughed at the suicidal cell phone. But not for long because after I took the battery out to dry out the insides, it wouldn’t turn back on.

After we ate lunch, we consulted with a specialist, who said that I would just need to get a new one. I think that it was the first time I ever swore in front of a total stranger before. I was in complete distress. We then decided to take her home and let her rest. Perhaps this would get her to come out of her coma and come back to us. We performed minor surgery (took her battery and SIM card out) and left her to rest over night.

The next morning, there were signs that she may be coming around. There was the little wiggle of her finger (she turned on) and the slight smile she gave (I was able to recieve a call, but couldn’t talk or hear once it was answered), but there was also clearly something still very wrong inside her brain. She kept trying to say the same word over and over, no matter what we asked her. “Seven. Seven. Seven,” was all she could say. Who knew what that meant. I knew that she could see us because we were reflected in her beautiful eyes (she could still take pictures). We took her apart again, and on the suggestion of my husband, we put her in a bag with a silica packet (luckily we had one), hoping that it would soak up some of the moisture. The next morning, still all she would say was, “Seven, seven, seven.” Hopeful but still worried, for the next two days and nights, the ritual was repeated. Take out of bag, put back together, turn her on, listen to her say, “Seven, seven, seven,” take her apart, put her back in the bag with the medicine and hope for the best.

On my last day in Florida, it was obvious that she wasn’t making any improvement, but I still needed to take her home and make final arrangements for her. I brought her home to my husband and he began to make calls to all the best specialists (cell phone repair people) in the state. He seemed to think that if we just replaced the keypad, it would bring her completely out of her coma and she would be ours once again. He found one that agreed with us and after Emily’s surgery yesterday morning, we brought her in for her own surgery. By 2:00p.m., she was out of surgery and we were told we could come pick her up.

I paid the bill and opened her up and there she was, awake and responsive. She knew me. She didn’t keep saying, “Seven, seven, seven,” she sent calls, she received calls, she sent and received text messages. She was back. I didn’t need to write a eulogy or an obituary. Instead, I had to name her because as was pointed out to me by my brother, I had never given her a name before this. I told him that if she pulled through, I had the perfect name for her. I will call her Lucky! He also gave me a piece of advice that I am sure that I will follow. He said that I should skip the baptism!