I am rubbish on the phone. I am a telephonophobe, I suspect in common with many others. I don’t actually mind the other purposes of the modern mobile – such as messaging, emailing, reading, finding things out. No, it’s the original telephone and its ongoing works that I can’t stand.
I never liked it. In my youth it was a pale, sea blue with a flex that you could twist while talking, and it lived in the kitchen. When you answered it, you had to say the number, loudly, clearly and annoyingly, and who you were. If you phoned someone, you had to say your full name, and that of the person you wished to speak with. Or so my mother told me; I abandoned all that after being mocked at school. At least if I wasn’t very cool I could be quiet.
Now, on a mobile, you can see the number, or who’s calling, which does give the option of not answering, but I’m conditioned to answer, and I find that hard. A planned call, that you’re waiting for, is worse, as all that you were going to say vanishes when you answer. But calling is worse, especially for someone like me, who doesn’t see the unknown world as particularly friendly. Do I ingratiate myself (weird) or be brisk and demanding (even more weird)? In reality I just try not to stammer or speak too fast.
Why is it hard? Interestingly I find it less so at work, perhaps because I am there in a role – in a sense, I’m not really me at all. If this Work-Me messes up or says the wrong thing, then it’s her problem, not mine. No, the most difficult situations are when it’s someone I don’t know well (they probably won’t want to hear from me), or if I’m asking for something, and not sure how this will be received, and this is where it’s relevant to mental health.
I’ve seen a few doctors over the years, and a few GPs and most of them have been fine. Somehow, when you’re there, in person, it’s easier to explain. Quite often, though, they will say: ‘call me / my secretary if you’ve any problems.’
I know this is kind, and I also know I won’t do it. If I’m less well, I’m even less likely to do it. Something that, for me, is always challenging isn’t going to be manageable at these times. I’m perhaps lucky, in that my husband will phone, but that in itself makes me feel pathetic and invalidated.
I understand the need for boundaries, but I do think there ought to be other ways that a patient can contact a doctor. I’m not suggesting personal mobile numbers, or WhatsApp, but surely there could be a way of messaging that would make life for many of us so much easier? I would be happy for my messages to go into my notes – indeed I would use them purely as a way to contact my doctor, not to have a conversation. Acknowledgement that it had been received, and maybe an earlier appointment (I know I’m being a bot hopeful here) would be enough.
This is about listening to patients and how they can communicate and making it easier, not harder. No-one’s ever said to me – how would you prefer to communicate? When you’re unwell, what’s best? If they had, I would have told them. Even making an appointment for a blood test (when I’m well) is hard, and I have them every three months.
What about online appointments? Well, I don’t like them at all, but they landed on us in Covid and haven’t gone away. I don’t think they’re good for patient or doctor, though curiously, I don’t find them as bad as phone appointments. At least you can see the person, but you can’t smell them (I’m an addictions psychiatrist, think alcohol), you can’t feel what they’re saying in the same way. They also require a level of technical ability that not everyone has (or at least has when ill). There’s something lonely and sad about the online appointment.
Tele is apparently a Greek word, meaning distant, or far way; phone, also Greek, means sound or voice. So telephone means a distant voice, and perhaps that’s what is so curiously threatening. A distant voice that somehow penetrates one’s inner sanctum, something that you can never really escape. It’s an odd concept, and life must have been so very different prior to its invention – just try to imagine Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn chatting on their mobiles!
Maybe I’d do better with a nice big retro telephone, smooth round domes for ear and mouth, and that creamy buzz when you pick it out its cradle. There was more a feeling of phone closure when finishing a call – you could slam it down if you so wished (obviously I never did that!), and I really don’t think touching the off button on a mobile is nearly as satisfying. Somehow you made a call, from start to finish; now your phone is always there, buzzing and calling like an annoying infant.
I wish I was better with telephones, I really do. At times I’ve not done things because I couldn’t face phoning, and pending calls hang over me, feeding my always anxious thoughts. Emails and messages have transformed my life opportunities, but it’s still there, always in the background. Oddly, in their prime, both my parents seemed confident on the phone, although they may not have felt so, impossible for me to really know.
Perhaps there’s some kind of course you can do, some kind of exposure, where you have to make a hundred embarrassing calls over a day. If so, I don’t think I’ll be taking it any time soon!