My husband has fallen ill with DD (digital disorder), a very prevalent and highly contagious illness. Indeed, chances are you already have DD. What? You’ve never heard of digital disorder? It’s been plaguing the population for years. Luckily, Jon has a relatively mild case.
As much as I hate to admit it, this is totally my fault. He was perfectly happy with his flip-phone, but no, I had to introduce him to the wonders of having a search engine in the palm of his hand. Things got out of control when I taught him to use my iPad, a device he affectionately calls Blue.
What else is blue? Me. He’s not what I would call addicted to YouTube and our Apple devices, but I have had to institute a “No Phones at the Table” rule here at Otter Run. I suspected something was wrong for quite a while, but I have clearly been in digital oblivion. Come to find out my otherwise healthy husband has three of the five DD variations. It’s not a life-threatening condition, but there’s relief in putting a name to the problem.
Full disclosure: it was Jon who discovered DD while browsing the web when he should have been cleaning his Dead Animals Room downstairs. “Hey, Wifey, you have got to hear this.” When he insists on sharing something he’s found online, I know he means business. The topic was DD, and though he reluctantly admitted he fit the profile, he said a visit to a digital health care provider was not necessary.
The first DD variant Jon has is TCNF (technoference), a disorder where digital technology disrupts daily routines, leisure time and close relationships. When in the company of others, he can avoid the temptation to sneak a peek at his smartphone, but at home? Not so much. If I complain, he retorts that he’s just doing what everyone else does, including our beloved granddaughter who calls him Papa.
Jon isn’t wrong to point that out as said granddaughter has TCNF. Almost 12, her time on the tablet has eclipsed baking cookies with Grandma, pairing up to write and stage a dramatic production in our living room or taking a woods walk to see my pet doe Sedona who comes out when I call her name.
Thankfully, pontoon rides, swimming at Bass Lake Beach and shopping at Sweet Memories Candy Shop in Lakewood still make the cut. Sure, coming in a distant second for her attention is not flattering, but it has an upside. She never says, “I’m bored” anymore, and I have committed to memory every hair on the top of her adorable head that holds her amazing brain. Since there’s no cure for technoference, I settle for whatever attention I can get.
In addition to technoference, Jon has been exhibiting mild symptoms of the DD variant cyberchondria, a compulsive need to research health symptoms online and self-diagnose. Medical experts sternly warn about doing this, but at least WebMD and Cleveland Clinic are his go-to websites. It’s not all bad. It often saves time, trouble and treasure as we avoid needlessly accessing the excellent health care providers we are blessed to have here in the rural Wisconsin Northwoods.
A particularly virulent variant of DD is nomophobia, a state of pure panic induced by misplacing your cellphone. Jon is not susceptible, but I have it in spades. I can spiral into total despair when I can’t locate my phone. For a while, I deleted the Find My Phone app, which can be an open invitation for cyber criminals to make your life cyber-hell. So is misplacing my phone, especially when in silence mode. Yet that’s nothing compared to when Jon leaves and forgets his. The resulting distress is hazardous to our household health.
Good news. Neither one of us has ringxiety: the false perception that your phone is ringing or vibrating when it isn’t. And we haven’t come down with TSD (Truman Show Delusion), a narcissistic state of paranoia caused by an obsession with social media. Those afflicted actually believe their lives are being recorded and broadcast across multiple platforms. I know — certifiable.
You may be wondering if DD is treatable. Nope. The only remedy is going cold turkey by moving totally offline, and I doubt that will ever happen. But we’ve had some success with nomophobia. I often misplace my phone at home, but it’s always in my purse when I go out.
Posting a “Do You Have Your Phone?” sign on the garage access door proved futile, so I always ask Jon if he has his phone when he leaves. I did that an hour ago when he went to Pintsch’s Hardware. You know, I really should call and remind him to pick up the eggs I ordered from Rosemary. Uh oh, I can’t find my phone. Now where the heck did I put it?
Kathleen Marsh is a lifelong educator, writer, and community advocate. She has published eight books, four on the history of Townsend, where she and husband Jon are happily retired on the beautiful Townsend Flowage.
