Should They Have Called Me?

Do I Care?

About a week ago, the USA celebrated its 250th Anniversary. I remember the 200th. My dad and I watched the Tall Ships Parade by the South Street Seaport. I was very young. But have memories of it. Some of my soon-to-be summer camp friends were at Liberty Island, and a phrase that would become famous at camp was uttered for the first time.

I am sure in ’76 and this year, many went to BBQs and the beach and watched fireworks. I always enjoyed watching the fireworks. I was hardly allowed to light any. Once in a while, I snuck in a bottle rocket.

I wanted to watch this year’s fireworks. But I had my own fireworks. I spent it in the ER. I went in the early evening and was discharged shortly after midnight. I am fine. But did experience some discomfort for three or four days after I saw the doctor. He said all is well, told me what to watch for over the next few days, and to schedule a follow-up. 

I actually had an appointment to see him in August for a routine follow-up. We kept that date. I jumped into an Uber, went home and saw Paul Simon at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. I am fine.

During the few days of discomfort, I stayed home. I only ventured outside once to go to the bank and get some vegetables and whatever other food I forgot to order from Fresh Direct. I did what I needed to do.

I am involved in many organizations and chair one of them. In the case of all of them, I am doing things for and with them both at their respective venues or online almost daily. I kept my online presence up. But that’s only posting to social media and maybe sending out an email or two. That’s for one org. The other all takes place at the venue.

I am fairly private with many things. Of course, my mom knew what was going on. She told my sister. I only told three or four people that I went to the ER. Some I told while I was there. Some of the next day. I even spoke to one of them while they were drawing blood. Well, maybe not at that exact time. But close enough. He had called me as I was walking to the hospital. I wound up butt-dialing him from the ER. We had a few good laughs about our crazy group and my situation. 

As for the other place, not one person reached out while I was MIA. I contribute financially and do other things. In the old days, the leaders, one of whom passed away in 2020 and the other of whom moved in 2024, would have called to ask where I was. If I told them I was not feeling well, they would have sent over food and asked if I needed anyone to run to CVS to pick up medications. Those days are done.

A few days ago, I was back. One of the leaders said, “Where were you?” I said I wasn’t feeling well. They said everyone was concerned because you weren’t here. I said, well, you could have called, texted, LinkedIn, Snapped, Facebooked, etc. With a laugh, he said, nah. Not us. The next day, I was back. Several people asked the same question. I went through the same situation I did the night before and received the same response.

Should they have reached out? I don’t know. Within their clique, they reach out to each other 24/7. Does it make a difference to me that no one had the decency to check in? Not at all. I didn’t expect it. And I am strong enough to know it’s not a slight. It’s life.