When I was 8 my dad started carrying a beeper.  He sported this hefty little technological wonder like a temperamental off-kilter belt buckle, its random screechings resulting in a little panic and a lot of off-switch fumbling, the messages I guess usually from God telling him no he didn’t have to stick out the entire sermon.

Now naturally I get a little misty-eyed reminiscing about gadgets from back in the day.  Oregon Trail (dysentery!) and Number Munchers (Troggles!) on the computer lab’s Apple IIc’s.  Mike Tyson’s Punch Out (King Hippo!) on the original Nintendo.  My battery and tape eating Walkman.  My Casio keyboard (Greensleeves!).

Of course I can’t miss you if you won’t go away.  There’s not a doctor I know without a cell phone, and so naturally when I need to speak with one we dial their, um, beeper.  Wait, what?

It usually goes like this: I tell the clerk we need to page so-and-so.  She calls their answering service (answering service! madness!!) at which time it’s 50/50 the clerk gets put on hold.  Eventually the clerk kindly asks the answering service person to make the doctor’s beeper beep.  They call back at random times, or not at all, some beepers it seems have to be dialed twice before beeping.  I’m held completely at the mercy of the system, unless I just absolutely truly require an immediate response, in which case I simply head off to the bathroom.

It’s not that I don’t get it.  Beepers are a buffer, a way for doctors to protect themselves from their patients, the floor nurses, pharmacies, etc.  For a doc to doc conversation though, how about offering up your cell phone number for me to call or text?  There are hundreds of time sucks in the ER.  Me wondering if your beeper has beeped shouldn’t be one of them.