As I write this, my dogs are standing at the top of my stairs, peering into the basement. The short, coarse hair along my boxer’s spine is rising,
strand by strand. My Shepard is letting out low, throaty growls. I could get up, but nothing is at the bottom of the stairs.
At least nothing I can see.
**Trigger warning – deceased children**
Anyhoo, like most people, I often fall asleep with my phone nearby. My husband jokes around that I’ll be buried with it. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I wouldn’t have it any other way. After reading so many stories about people being prematurely buried – like this one – I want to make sure I have a solid back-up plan in case I spontaneously start breathing again. So until I update my will, let this serve that I want to be buried with my iPhone and I want my phone plan to keep going for at least a week after I pass.
In the good old days, they didn’t have iPhones (obviously), but they had a few back-up plans of their own. In 1791, Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick had the first recorded Safety Coffin commissioned. It had a window for light, a tube for fresh air, and rather than being nailed down, his coffin lid was locked in place. The Duke was buried with two keys – one for the coffin lid and another to open the door of his tomb.
Unfortunately, some were buried without an escape route. In 1901, a pregnant Madame Boubin *apparently* died of yellow fever and was buried shortly after. The nurse that treated her insisted the body was still warm and the muscles in her tummy were trembling, so Boubin was exhumed. Though she was dead,they found not one but two bodies in the coffin. Boubin had been buried alive and delivered her baby in the coffin. An autopsy was shown that Boubin did not have yellow fever and died of asphyxiation.
If that’s not enough of a tale to ensure your local graveyard has good cell reception, I don’t know what is. So until I can punch my way out of a coffin, Kill Bill style, I’ll be buried with my phone in hand.