An ADHD Adventure!
Or
I Risked My Life for my iPhone
This is a true account of events that occurred on Thursday, August 8, 2013.
It all started with a bathroom door, nylon restraints and a visit to my psychiatrist at the Royal Ottawa Hospital.
I was back in Ottawa for a couple of days to shop for materials we needed for ongoing cottage renovations. My wood-framed cottage in Val Des Bois had amazingly been fitted with an indoor toilet and shower. A four-year dream fulfilled. My friends were getting weary of the uphill trek to the outhouse; the uneven, weed-infested, decaying stairs; the rickety, tree-branch handrail. They were going to be in for a shock on their next visit. A smooth, white, shiny ceramic toilet. But one small detail was lacking. A door.
This quest for toilet privacy led me to Habitat for Humanity on Walkley Road – purveyors of used building supplies and household fittings. The proceeds of the sales go to building homes for the poor. I looked around the store and there it was – 29 1/2 inches wide, replete with three hinges, a jam and ready for a doorknob. It was painted an angelic, pure white. For $45 it was mine. The staff helped me place it on top of my small SUV. I was left alone to strap it down so that it would not be lost on the one-hour drive back to the cottage. I’m not the most practical person in the world when it comes to dealing with this type of job. Typically, I would neglect certain crucial details such as not fastening the hooks securely or, in my usual haste, not battening it down tightly enough. At the same time I was getting text messages from my son as we were deciding on other materials we might need. So while my phone and nylon tie-downs, I glanced at my watch. It was nearing 2:30 in the afternoon. I had an appointment with my psychiatrist at 3 o’clock at the Royal Ottawa Mental Health Centre on the other side of town. Right after the appointment, I was supposed to meet a friend at my condo. Rob is the husband of an ESL student of mine and is now a good buddy. He’d been painting my place and wanted to meet me to discuss the job and have pizza at Louis’ across the street at around 5:00.
Time management is not my strongest suit. Here I was, trying to be as meticulous as possible, securing the door onto my roof. But panic over being late was setting in. Traffic has become crazy in Ottawa with construction of the light rail transit LRT and consequent modifications causing ungodly delays on the Queensway. I had to get going. Having secured the door as well as I was able to, I headed west. I turned right off Walkley onto St Laurent Boulevard. I was about 1 km from the 417 W. After just a block or so I decided to make a call to my daughter using my Bluetooth visor-mounted device, which allows hands-free, voice-activated calls when paired with a smartphone. I clicked it on, uttered the command, “ Call M, iPhone. Miss Bluetooth dutiful responded, ” Calling M, iPhone.” It rang, and I heard my daughter’s soft-spoken message. I left her a voice message inviting her to visit.
At the ramp I merged onto the 417. Surprisingly, I was making pretty good time. I’d be 10 minutes early, plenty of time to park and maybe get a snack at the 2nd floor snack bar. Chocolate milk and an oatmeal raisin cookie. Goes great with Ritalin. But a few seconds after getting on the highway, the British-accented woman who hides behind my sun visor uttered,
“ Disconnected” in her authoritative GPS voice.
A minute later, in a sterner voice, came the death sentence:
“Power Off”
How could that be? The Bluetooth only disconnects when the phone is turned off or missing. I’d just used it a couple of minutes before! It had to be in the car. I fumbled around looking for it as best I could while driving at 100 km/hr. in traffic. What had happened? When I parked near the hospital, I got on my hands & knees searching under and between the seats, in the door pockets, under the mats. Nada. I panicked. I must have left it at Habitat, probably dropping it as I was as I was leaving. But how did I make the Bluetooth call? The devices have to be close together in order to communicate with each other. My head was exploding.
I left my car and crossed Carling Ave. Walking through the gauntlet of smokers congregated outside the Royal’s main door, I adopted my nonchalant look of “I’m not really crazy…just visiting…” Up the elevator to the reception desk at Forensic Psychiatry (I really try to look cool here) where my doctor has his office. The back-story is that a couple of years ago I applied participate in a study of adults di9agnosed with ADHD. Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder. My doctor, Dr. A, a very kind and perceptive man was conducting the study. He happened to be right there at the desk when I arrived breathlessly, at 2:58. He was talking to the receptionist and in his usual very gracious manner smiled and indicated that he would see me shortly.
The gentle-faced white-haired receptionist registered me and I immediately asked, perhaps too intensely:
“Do you have the Wi-Fi code for the hospital? I really need that code right away.”
She looked at me strangely. Wi-Fi? Code? What was going through her mind? Probably wondering why I had such a wild-eyed look on my face. She actually looked a bit frightened. The only “codes” they use at the Royal are for emergency situations. Code Red with the accompanying beeps indicates imminent danger.
So why did I need Wi-Fi? Well, I happen to have had an iPad with me that I had just bought from a friend. (How could I ever leave the house with fewer than two of Steve Jobs’ creations?) I needed to connect to the Internet to activate “Find my iPhone” on the iPad. Via the Internet, on a Google map, it pinpoints a lost device even if it’s moving. She made a hushed call to security and then cautiously said that she would have the code sent to her by email and I could pick it up after my appointment. There was a lingering look of suspicion in her eyes. Would security be awaiting me at the doctor’s door?
In this state of mind I went to Dr. A’s consultation room. We actually had a very good session dealing with my anxiety of beginning school in September – two weeks away – under pressure of a new system of tracking student progress. Record keeping is my most severe challenge. It even beats tying down large, cumbersome objects to my car. The appointment ended on a positive note and I had almost forgotten about the phone crisis. On the way out, though, the receptionist was waiting for me. She handed me two sheets from the printer with information for connecting to the hospital’s wireless system. I read the first page with its manifold instructions of network names, user names, passwords etc. I furiously entered the data. Nothing worked. Of course I didn’t bother to look at the second sheet. It had the ultimate guest password. (I discovered it the next day.)
I wanted to hurry over to Habitat and then to my place to meet Rob, but I remembered there was one more stop to make. That morning, just as I was waking up, Peter called. He’s the bass player in my band, and said he had a DVD for me. A video of the Leonard Cohen concert we’d done a few months previously at the University of Ottawa. He’d asked if I could pick it up by 4:30 as he was leaving town and would be unreachable for two weeks. I had forgotten to tell Rob I’d be a bit late. Now I couldn’t reach him. Who remembers phone numbers these days? I can barely remember 911. Peter’s address was, of course, on my phone but I knew it was on Booth St off Somerset. Another band member, Ric who plays sax and flute, lives on the same street. I thought of stopping to see if he was home because he knew where Peter worked. I passed his place, which is above an Ethiopian bakery, but the traffic was so heavy I couldn’t stop. I turned left onto the next street and miraculously found a parking spot. As I was getting out of my car, there was Ric walking down Booth. Waving and screaming I flagged him down. I must’ve been quite a sight. (Ric would probably say I was acting normally. He’s known me a long time.) I used his cell to call my number but got only my voice message. This worried me because I’d hoped a Habitat employee would answer. No dice.
We got to Peter’s workplace and I was excited to get the DVD, but I couldn’t mask my preoccupation. He let me use his office computer and I immediately logged on to iCloud and, at last, the link to “Find my iPhone”.
On the computer screen, the compass needle oscillated back and forth until the map popped up. There was the green dot right in the middle. I was sure it would indicate the corner of St. Laurent and Walkley where thought I had left it. But no. I stared incredulously at the screen. There was St Laurent Blvd, but no Walkley Ave.. I saw St Laurent flowing into a cloverleaf overpass.
The unmoving, but pulsating green dot of salvation was on the 417 right at the end of the St. Laurent on-ramp. The full horror of it came crashing down on me. I had left the phone on the hood of my car and it had fallen to the road just as I merged onto the highway. It was 5 o’clock. It had been there since 2:30. This is one of the busiest parts of town. But the green dot said my phone was still alive and waiting for me there. There was hope.
From Peter’s office phone I called my home number hoping Rob would pick up. He did. I told him to get ready for an adventure. In the Canadian Forces, he’d been an aerial photographer and a tank commander for years. (How they got the tanks up in the air to take photos, I have no idea.) I arrived home at 5:30 to my Wi-Fi-blessed condo. On the iPad, I showed Rob the ominous green dot indicating where my phone lay waiting for me.
I announced that we were going on a Search and Rescue Mission. Rob snapped to attention, totally focused and ready for action. This was better than the army. True adventure. Tough guys up for the task. We got into his car and I directed him through Vanier Pkwy, Industrial Ave, Belfast Rd, and St Laurent Blvd. A left turn took us north to the Queensway ramp. Knowing where I’m going is another of my extreme challenges. But at that moment, my laser-guided tracking system was fully functioning. Our heart rates quickened. At the ramp Rob slowed down to a crawl and put on the four-way flashers. We put on our night-vision goggles – no we didn’t. I’m getting carried away. I lowered the window and focused on the ground on the passenger side. His eyes were riveted straight ahead. We crept up the ramp. Nothing. We got to the point where we were about to merge with the highway. Rob parked right where the yellow lines met. Rush hour traffic was whizzing by. Neither of us had seen anything. No sign of it at all.
Leaving his flashers on, he suggested I walk back a couple of hundred meters down the ramp for one last look. I was fighting discouragement. Keeping as far from the oncoming traffic as I could, I walked back about 100 m. and there, to my utter amazement, there, there it was, lying about twenty meters further away. Intact, case partly off, face down, just over the yellow line. My iPhone. It was within my grasp. Just at that moment, out of nowhere, red, white and blue lights flashed into my eyes as a police car stopped inches from me. A young officer got out of the cruiser and approached me.
“What are you doing here? It’s illegal to be out here on foot! What’s going on?”
“I’m looking for my phone.”
“Your phone? Here? How could you have lost it here?”
“You see, officer, I have ADHD and I misplace things. I left my phone on the hood of my car because I was in a hurry to get to the Royal Ottawa for an appointment. “ “Find my iPhone,” told me where it was. Look. It’s right there.”
He stared in amazement. I picked it up. It didn’t have a scratch on it. Five phone messages and 7 texts were emblazoned on the screen. The cop seemed quite amused.
“Would you like a ride? Get in the car,” he said smiling. “I’ll drive you up to your friend up there.”
He opened the rear door and I got in. It was cramped and dark, and there were bars on the window. This was just like a million cop shows I’d seen. Back seat of a cruiser. Being taken in to HQ. Good thing paranoia isn’t a part of my diagnosis. Rob, I imagined, was probably freaking out thinking I’d been arrested and that he was going to get a humungous ticket for parking on the expressway. The police officer stopped just behind his car and came around to open the back door to let me out. It wouldn’t open. I nearly fainted. He laughed and went back to the driver’s seat where he flipped the release switch, came around again and freed me from my one minute of fantasy. Rob got out of his car. The blank look on his face masked a multitude of emotions going through his mind. I reassured him all was OK and waved the iPhone at him. The cop drove off with a friendly wave.
We climbed back into to the car and sat silently for a few moments.
“Pizza’s on me, Rob.”
Val Des Bois, Québec
August 2013
Associated Links:
Learn more about Adult ADHD
The Royal Ottawa Mental Health Centre
http://www.theroyal.ca/en/mental-health-at-the-royal/
Habitat For Humanity ReStore for recycled building supplies
http://www.habitat.ca/en/community/restores
Habitat for Humanity – Mission
http://www.habitat.ca/en/about/mission
Find My iPhone
https://itunes.apple.com/ca/app/find-my-iphone/id376101648?mt=8
Visor Mount Bluetooth Wireless Speaker Phone
http://www.amazon.ca/BlackBerry-VM-605-Bluetooth-Visor-Speakerphone/dp/B0030HWDDC
jerrygoll 