Emotionally labile

I had a phone call from a friend who anticipated being in my area around lunchtime and wondered whether today would be convenient to take me up on the standing invitation to join me for lunch. I confirmed it would be more than convenient, it would be a pleasure, and there was some home-made mushroom soup on offer. Having put the phone down, I looked at the clock and decided I had ample time to walk into town, do a bit of shopping, pick up a passport renewal application form from the Post Office, and get back home before my visitor. I picked up handbag and keys, unlocked the front door, stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind me. Mistake. I had left the keys in the lock on the inside. Once the front door shuts, you can’t get back in without a key. What is worse, if there is already a key in the lock on the inside, in theory you can’t unlock the door from the outside even with a key. I felt a mild sense of panic and reached for my mobile phone. The first number I tried was Dave’s landline, but I got a message saying this number wasn’t available, so I phoned him on his mobile. I explained what I’d done and asked him if he was at home, and could he come and try his key. (He lives very nearby and often works from home). He didn’t give me a direct answer and I formed the impression that I’d just woken him up. In a relaxed, unhurried way, he began to ask about the type of key-ring the keys were on – exploring aloud the possibility of sticking a suitable implement through the letterbox and retrieving the keys from the lock. I asked him again to at least just come over and try his key. He was convinced it wouldn’t work, citing an occasion when he’d locked himself out, and persisting gently with his original line of questioning. I flared up. “I’m ringing from my mobile, it’s pay-as-you-go and I don’t know if I have enough credit for a long conversation – if you’re not prepared to help, then forget it!” I snarled and hung up. Then I stood there for a moment blinking back the tears and considering my options. I set off for the town, composing a text to Vic as I went, explaining what I’d done and asking him to speak to David for me and explore how he could help. I sent a further text to my prospective visitor explaining my predicament and that I was walking into town whilst thinking about how to proceed. Back came the suggestion, ‘David?’ Grrrr!

As I walked, I thought about David’s response, recognising that sometimes it is a valid thing to do when someone appeals for help, to ask a few questions in case they have the resources to solve the problem themselves, rather than immediately leaping to the rescue. Indeed, it might well have been my own response to requests for help on occasion. Now I was on the receiving end though, and it didn’t feel so good. I had appealed for his presence, convinced that the problem could immediately be resolved if he had jumped in his car and driven over with his key. I didn’t want to be stalled by his questions until this seemingly obvious course of action had been at least attempted. I brushed a few tears away and prayed out loud, “Lord, I’m sorry if there have been times when I’ve let you down by failing to respond to a plea for help, a plea for my presence”.

When I was standing at the checkout in the first shop, the phone rang. It was my friend – I said quickly, “I’m in a shop, I’ll call you back in two minutes”. The phone rang again – this time it was David and I didn’t want to put him off. He asked where I was, confirmed he’d got my keys and would pick me up outside the Mall.

As I got in his car, it was like a dam burst. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” I was sobbing. I don’t think he’s ever seen me upset like that before. I’m normally the antithesis of a drama queen. He tried to comfort me, saying he remembered how it felt – the shock – when he’d locked himself out, and how frightening it could be, but that he’d got in with no damage done. In between sobs I tried to get it together enough to explain that a general anaesthetic can sometimes make people emotionally labile for a while. He brought me home and stayed with me, helping himself to breakfast and getting me to make him a cup of tea. He hadn’t got to bed until after 4 in the morning. Irregular hours seem to go with the territory when it comes to IT work.

He had retrieved the keys in the way he’d been trying to describe over the phone when I hung up – using the handle of his car jack – but after he left I couldn’t resist trying to unlock the door with another key when one was in the lock on the inside, and sure enough, so long as the one on the inside hasn’t been turned, you can still unlock it, so in a way we were both right.