I hate that my watch is smarter than me
Judy Conlin
I bought a smart watch because all my friends had one and they told me that at my age I must have one in case I fell and needed to call for help. This sounded like a good idea. It was not a pretty watch, so of course, my ultra bedazzled, curled and accessorized alter ego, Nurse Judy, hated it. I ignored her protests and wore it for safety every day. The problem was that for the first three months I had no idea how to make a call on it, thus defeating its purpose. I finally bit the bullet and consulted with a digital expert for advice. (I’m sure it is no surprise to you readers that I have trouble with the digital age). I was not a fast learner, but I at least learned enough to be able to call 9-1-1 in case of an emergency.
With this tiny bit of knowledge, we coexisted happily for a couple of years with no falls or emergencies confronting us. Then this intelligent being strapped to my wrist began acting up. It sent messages I could not understand. My heartbeat was sometimes zero although I was still functioning. I knew it was time to call that expert again. He explained that the watche’s own heart (battery) had failed and it needed a replacement. Post-op, the little guy began running just as he had in his younger days. All was well.
The information that came with this smart watch said it was waterproof, but I never really trusted that, especially after he had already had one heart problem. Whenever I took a shower, I took the little guy off and laid him on the bathroom counter. After I was dry and dressed, I usually carried him into the great room, where I could sit down and reattach him to me. This wasn’t easy as it was very tight and took some creative moves to finally get him hooked up.
On this occasion, my last memory was setting it on the counter. I had many theories of what might have happened to it- the main one had the cats as culprits. They might have seen it by my chair and batted it on the floor. Its sparkly metal would have made it a perfect plaything, and it could have been batted anywhere. I’ve used a dustmop under all low hanging furniture trying to flush it out but all to no avail. I try to study their faces for signs of guilt or innocence, but they are inscrutable.
I have a friend over. She is smart and practical. She has all different ways of searching for the phone but none of them work. “Jump up and down and crash some things,” she tells me.
“That phone is made to call for help if it thinks you’ve fallen,” she explains. I feel foolish, but I comply. As we wait breathlessly, no ambulance, emergency medical technician, or rescue squad pull up. We both must laugh at our absurdity.
I finally have had enough. I don’t want to fall and need help and not be able to reach anyone. I pick up my telephone and call Amazon. I ordered an inexpensive version of my smart phone. At least I will have something in case of an emergency. I feel better. My mind is at peace. At least I have taken responsibility for my own safety.
I hum a little tune as I resume my usual household chores. The wash that I started this AM (I wait until I have a full load before running it) has signaled that it is ready for drying. I go into the laundry room and begin moving the wet load to the dryer. They smell so fresh and clean. I start the dryer and then go back to the washer to clean the lint trap. What is that all gold and glittery lying on the bottom?
It is my smart watch looking at me as if to say, “What took you so long, Dummy?”
I am ashamed, this little watch is smarter than me. I hate that. I’m doubly ashamed. Here I am thinking of my feelings when the poor little thing’s pulse is very low (7% battery). I call a code and give it a jolt from the recharger.
It’s coming around now and I am so relieved. All I can say is that it is truly waterproof.More later,
Judy and her watch
www.nursejudyinfo.com
