Wireless

January 23, 2017....

Dr. Neurologist strides into the examining room. He's most always upbeat and energetic, but not in an obnoxious way. More in a cheerful, welcoming manner.

"Carol!" He greets me with a big smile.

I look up from Reader's Digest with a smile and hello.

"Did you know there's a place in West Virginia where cell phones are illegal? Well, not the cell phones themselves, but using them for internet and phone calls..."

He looks at me puzzled.

"At least according to this article," I respond. "It's because of some giant telescopes in the area. They're not telescopes that you look through. They operate by sound or radio waves or something. Radios and microwaves are banned too."

"How could the government enforce that?" Doc wonders out loud.

"I don't know about the microwaves. But cell phones just wouldn't get service."

We discuss my health for a few minutes. I'm getting my routine epidural today, my 15th epidural since I started getting them in early 2014.

I get up from my chair and hobble over to the examining table. I assume my epidural position by sitting on the edge of one side of the table. I lean slightly forward.

As my doctor prepares the epidural behind me, he resumes our discussion about the place in West Virginia. "Wow. I'd hate not having internet. News. Ordering stuff. Emails..."

I can't see his preparation unless I look behind me. But I've never looked, and I don't ever plan to look. I don't want to know what it looks like -- the needle and tube and whatever he's doing back there as I hear the crinkle of sterile plastic being unwrapped from the sterile injection tools.

I respond, "Maybe people can have internet, if it's dial up. I wonder if it's quieter there?"

I immediately think to myself...It might be noisier. Maybe they use more mechanical stuff, instead of digital. Thus noisier. But then, digital doesn't need internet...

Doc gently lifts the bottom of the back of my shirt and places it up over itself so that it stays lifted off of my lower back, exposing my skin. He does the same with the top of my pants, pulling them down slightly at the waistband. I feel cool, damp cotton gauze rub my skin at the base of my spine, and then a few light pricks as Doc quickly injects the numbing agent with needles I barely feel.

"Why would it be quieter?" Doc asks.

"Well," I respond. "It might be noisier...from more mechanical equipment rather than digital. But then you don't necessarily need wifi for digital."

I wonder to myself, By "quieter" do I really mean quieter in my head -- less brain chatter spawned from information overload...

I've often wondered about invisible waves in the air. If we could see them how much different would the air look now, jammed with communication waves, compared to time and space in the past before our man-made, wireless connection devices? How much do these unseen waves affect us? Do they interfere with us being able to tap our intuition? What about other animals and life?

I know the epidural injection is next. I begin my short, quick, rhythmic exhales intermittently accompanied by quiet humming and singing -- calming strategies I always use when faced with needles. I feel the internal pressure in my low back as my doctor inserts the injection and liquid is squeezed into the outer layer of my spinal cord. I then feel a different kind of pressure as he pulls out the injection tube-needle or whatever it is. Then I feel the quick swipe of a damp cotton gauze, and he places a band aid over the site. 

We then proceed to my neck injections -- five or so shots in the back of my neck, accompanied by my quick, rhythmic exhales and soft singing.

~*~

Here's a link to an article about that town, Green Bank, West Virginia, "where cell phones and wireless devices are banned, their use potentially prosecutable by law." Population, 143.

From the article:

So, cell phone use is limited in [this] National Radio Quiet Zone, a 13,000-square mile area that limits radio frequency in the eastern half of West Virginia and parts of Virginia, stretching to the Maryland border.

The article answers my neurologist's enforcement question:

The white Dodge Ram pickup looks like something from "Ghostbusters." Giant omnidirectional antennas are attached to its roof, and its passenger seat has been replaced with a receiver, Doppler system and spectrum analyzer.

The truck listens for anything that can disrupt sounds from outer space. When it rumbles down the back roads of West Virginia, residents are known to unplug their microwaves so they don't get busted.

Regarding the telescopes:

The main telescope weighs 17 million pounds, spans about 2 acres wide and stretches 485 feet into the air. Several smaller telescopes are sprinkled around it amid 2,700 acres of parkland. Leave your phone and digital camera behind.

The telescope can hear sounds from hundreds of millions of miles away and attracts some of the leading researchers in the world.

~*~