Ooops...wrong number

Accidental call leads to ‘unlikely beautiful relationship’

Submitted by Addy Wolfe of Moorhead

Written by Den Bolda of Casselton

If you’ve never heard about people who’ve met by accident, let me tell you how I made friends with a man in his final stages of life. You see, I live near the state line, and that means that people sometimes dial the wrong area code when making phone calls. It was just such an error that introduced me to Bob. As it turns out, I have the same telephone number as Bob’s wife, just a different prefix. This coincidence led to an unlikely beautiful relationship.

Bob and Addy Wolfe, about 15 years ago. Contributed photo

The first time I spoke to Bob it was an unusual “wrong number.”

“Hello?” he said, “Is Addy there?”

“No,” I replied, “I’m afraid that you’ve got the wrong number.”

Normally, a caller would apologize and hang up, but Bob continued to ask for his wife. Again and again, I reassured him that he had dialed in error. Eventually he was frustrated enough to hang up on me. The calls for Addy came again, and again, and again. The calls were always the same, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” “Do you know where my wife is?” After a while, it was clear to me that Bob was confused.

I once had a conversation with my brother-in-law about an article that dealt with dementia patients. The article noted that there was no scientific remedy for that condition and that it is irreversible. The article also went on to tell about a study that was done in a dementia ward. It was discovered that patients had predictable reactions to calculated staff responses. For example, a dementia patient was asking for her spouse, but the patient had forgotten that her spouse had passed away. The patient became distressed when staff broke the news to her that her spouse had died. She would ask everyday, and everyday she would relive the heartbreak and loss. The scientific study suggested that staff meet the dementia patient in their current state of reality. Instead of informing the patient that her spouse was dead, they gave responses such as, “I’m not sure where he is.” The study showed that this type of reply was an antecedent for less emotional distress from the patients. I decided to try this with Bob.

From then on, whenever Bob called, it was never a wrong number.

“Is Addy there?” he’d ask.

“Ya know Bob, this is Den. I haven’t seen Addy. I’m not sure where she is,” I’d reply in my best North Dakota nice. I wasn’t lying to Bob, in fact I was telling the utmost truth! I’d ask Bob all sorts of questions. “What kind of car does Addy drive? What color is it? Who might be with her?” Sure enough, Bob’s reactions were less agitated and confused when I engaged him this way. He obviously didn’t know or remember who I was, but he would talk to me for a while and eventually hang up.

With the COVID-19 quarantine, I found myself at home instead of at the office for about six months. Bob would call me two or three times a week. I didn’t have anything better to do than to talk to Bob, so why not? I’d reintroduce myself, ask him how his day was going, what he had for lunch, and so forth. He could never quite recall what he had eaten that day, so sometimes we’d talk about the weather. He was always confused, but he wasn’t usually upset like when I’d tell him he had the wrong number. The nursing home staff would call and I’d explain that I was okay with talking to Bob, and that they should not hesitate to call me if he needed someone to talk to. Some of the staff would call me by accident and laugh, “This is Den isn’t it?” Bob wasn’t the only person calling me by mistake. The nursing home staff also called. Again, “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

Sometimes staff would simply hang up, other times they would talk to me to find the root of the problem. This is how I found out that Addy and I had the same telephone number with different area codes. After that, staff continued to call numerous times. Equipped with my newfound knowledge, I’d reply, “You dialed the wrong area code. Addy is 218, I’m 701.”

Something was very wrong with the nursing home telephone system, because some nurses would call me three times in a row, insisting that they had indeed dialed the correct telephone prefix. So I’d learned that Bob was living in a nursing home and that he was, perhaps, in a state of mental decline.

My wife was even used to Bob calling. I remember hanging up the phone after I had prepared supper for the family one afternoon. My wife asked, “Was that Bob?” Indeed it was. I rather enjoyed this friendship, though in all honesty I doubt Bob remembered any of our conversations. I just figured that I’d want someone to be friendly to me if I was in Bob’s shoes. It went on this way for what seemed like months, but I didn’t keep track.

One day, a friend of Addy’s called me by mistake. I figured that she was just another nurse, but we struck up a conversation. I explained the phone call situation to Mary Lee, who later explained it to Addy, unbeknownst to me. Bob’s phone calls stopped coming about the same time that I returned to work. My wife suggested that I call Addy to explain what had happened. I’m not going to lie, it was an awkward conversation. I learned that Bob had been moved from the nursing home to a hospice, so I asked Addy to let me know if something happened to Bob. Eventually that sad call came.

Addy called to let me know that Bob had passed. I was grateful that she did. I thought it would allow me to have closure. This conversation with Addy was less awkward, and I shared more about myself, as she had a few questions for me. She mentioned that there would be a memorial service for Bob and a military funeral when the weather broke. Addy didn’t openly invite me to the memorial service, so I wasn’t sure if I should go, especially with the COVID-19 crisis. Addy’s friend, Mary Lee, called me shortly after. She too mentioned the memorial service and said, “Most of Bob’s friends are older and don’t get out much because of the COVID-19 quarantine procedures. I don’t think there will be many people in attendance. You are welcome to attend.” And so I did.

Bob’s cardinal painting. Contributed photo

So I went to the memorial service for Bob, a person who didn’t know me, to meet his family who also didn’t know me. As my teenage students would say, “Awk-Ward.” Mary Lee quickly picked up on who I was. She introduced me to some of Bob’s friends and family. All the while I was thinking, are they okay that I spent so much time talking with Bob? As the memorial service unfolded, Bob’s character was revealed by those who loved him. As it turns out, Bob was a very quiet person. He was a man of few words and Addy thought that it was strange that Bob had spent so much time talking to a stranger (me) on the phone. In fact, Addy thought that he probably talked to me more than anyone else near the end of his life. I was uneasy because I wasn’t sure if there might have been some jealousy behind this, as I could completely relate to that. I definitely meant no harm. I was just trying to be a friend to Bob. I tried to sit in quiet respect until the pastor asked Addy about “some friend that Bob had met over the phone.”

Addy pointed me out, and the pastor asked me to share my story about Bob. I explained how Bob and I “met,” and how our relationship changed over time. I was relieved when Bob’s friends and family laughed at parts of the story, because I was really nervous. After all, it was a bizarre happenstance. Someone from Bob’s family expressed her gratitude. She said that she was thankful that Bob and I had met and that we did what we did. I held it together as best I could, but I sat in my car afterward and cried. I didn’t know how to feel. Bob and I really didn’t know each other. Why did Jesus weep when Lazarus died? Perhaps Jesus wept out of love and sympathy for Lazarus’ family. Perhaps that is why I wept, but I really don’t know. Perhaps I just needed to cry because the year 2020 was for the birds.

My relationship with Addy has continued. We meet for lunch from time to time, and my kids call her “Grandma Addy.” I didn’t tell her about my hobbies, which include painting. I mostly paint replica Civil War flags and banners with patriotic eagles. As it turns out, Bob was a painter too. Coincidentally, Bob also painted birds. Addy showed me a painting that Bob had done, it was of cardinals on a branch. Cardinals mean different things to people, but some folks say that they are spiritual messengers.