by Amy Casseaux
I'm not an alcoholic, but my drinking has definitely gotten me into a fix now. My head was bleeding - from the crash, that is. I know because it hurts and I can taste blood. I'm treading water with a very sore knee and I hurt all over. To top all this off, I had no idea which way to swim because I couldn't tell in which direction lay the shore. I was blind. Sightless. No vision whatsoever.
= = = = = = = = =
It started with a bit of a challenge. Actually, it started with a Jack Daniels and coke, followed by several more. The challenge came later that night.
None of this makes sense yet, so hang in there. Three days ago, I was an O&M - that's Orientation & Mobility - instructor at Houston's Lighthouse For The Blind. Basically, I teach blind people how to navigate, travel, and do everyday chores without vision. Given that I don't get a lot of time with my clients due to budgetary restraints, I have to push them to learn and to do things that they don't want to do, whether they are ready or not. This earns me a lot of resentment and back talk from those clients.
"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." I get that a lot. I explain that I had to learn do things without vision before I could teach those techniques. That's when it always comes back at me. "Yeah, but when you're done, you get to take the blindfold off and see."
Three days ago, I was having a crappy day, and was working with a very irritable client. I said something I should not have. I told the client, "If I lost my vision, I'd be able to do all of this, all by myself. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, and let's continue."
The thing is, my boss, Dr. Shrader, was there to overhear it. Bob Shrader is not a screamer, he's a whisperer. I saw his lips move, telling me to be in his office in one hour.
After I'd sat down across from his desk, he said, "Jimmy, I know that Mr. Dixon is a difficult client and I know that he's very abrasive, so don't think I'm mad at you. I also know you're a very patient person, and that this won't happen again.
"Having said that, I'd like to address what you said. I think that you would agree that wearing a blindfold and not being able to see are two completely different things?"
I nodded, "Yes, sir. When I was still taking instruction and doing the field tests, the blindfold unnerved me at times."
"It took you two times to pass all the field work, as I recall."
"Three actually. I got the third chance because it had been raining and I couldn't complete the second try. They made me start all over."
"And you've been an instructor how long?"
"Four years in April."
"How often do you use a blindfold to sharpen your teaching skills?"
"To be honest, sir, I don't. I do the re-qual exams twice a year and that's usually it."
"Interesting. Jimmy, I just received some grant money for a program that I'd like to talk to you about. It's a study to see whether people exposed to blind skills could use them if they lost their vision suddenly."
"How does it work?"
"You spend ten days with no usable vision. Full pay, and the ten days don't go against your vacation time."
"Blindfolded for ten days?"
"No, alternate means would be used. Reversible means, of course."
I thought about it. A chance to put my money where my mouth was, so to speak. A chance to impress the boss in time for my annual review. Hmmm.... to be blind for ten days. To really know what it was like.
"Not just no, but hell, no.", I said.
Dr. Shrader laughed. "I didn't think so. So far all the other instructors have said the same thing."
"I'm not terribly surprised."
He laughed, "Nor am I. Put it out of your mind."
A couple of hours later, I was heading for my car and chanced to see Dr. Shrader looking under the hood of his car.
"Need help?", I asked.
"Yes. I need a priest to give this battery last rites."
Then he looked at me and said, "Make you a deal: dinner at Pappasito's if you'll give me a ride home."
Time to get back into his good graces after my faux pas earlier. "Sure. It beats going home and being alone."
Dinner was good and the drinks were stiff. How we got to his house without getting picked up and arrested is a mystery. Since I was in no shape to drive home, I was offered the guest room. We turned the TV on to ESPN and settled in. The last thing I remembered seeing was the World Series of Poker.
Waking up was weird. My eyes didn't want to open. It was sometime in the middle of the night and I had to pee. I was carrying a lot of whiskey and it all wanted out. I sleepily groped my way to the bathroom and found the toilet. Funny, the light switch must have been broken. Either that or there had been a power outage. I laughed and thought how lucky I was to know how to get around in the dark. My hangover told me that some hair of the dog might ease the pain, so I made my way down the hall to the living room wearing a robe that had been hanging on the bathroom door.
Must be a power outage, I decided as I tried light switch after light switch. My mind was fuzzy and my head hurt. I found the bar and tried to identify which bottle had the Jack Daniels in it.
"Not that one Jimmy, the one to the left. Isn't it a little early? It's not even noon yet."
First, I jumped at the sound. Then his words dawned on me. Fear gripped my chest and I couldn't breathe. I passed my hand in front of my face. Nothing. I pried at my eyelids only to discover that they were already open. I gently touched an eyeball. It was still there.
"I guess you don't remember, Jimmy. You entered the program last night. You're blind for the next ten days."
It was only because my foot was touching the waste basket. Other wise, things would have been messier. A second later, my hot vomit filled the waste basket.
It was several minutes before I got my head from between my knees. I was dizzy and disoriented. Dr. Shrader helped me up, placed my hand on his elbow and led me to the kitchen, where I sat down. I heard liquid being poured and ice cubes. Next, I heard a glass placed in front of me followed by what sounded like a plate. The aroma of eggs and sausage wafted up.
"The eggs are at seven o'clock, the sausage is at twelve o'clock, the biscuits are at three. You have a glass of orange juice at two o'clock relative to the plate."
"Could you please tell me what the... what is going on? When did I agree to do this?"
"After I offered you a thousand dollar stipend on top of your regular paycheck and promotion to head instructor upon completion of the study. In return you volunteered to be the first test subject and to help me administer the rest of the study."
That made sense. I needed a grand for the down payment on my condo. I could make the payments, but I'd been short of the down payment and feared that someone would snap it up before I could. It's a beautiful loft in the Montrose District. I lived there now through a lease, but the owner wanted to sell. With three months to the end of the lease, I had probably agreed to it.
"Okay, but answer one thing: How did you do it? What was the 'alternate method'?"
"Hypnosis. What I did was convince your brain that it wasn't receiving any visual stimuli or input. In a manner of speaking, I temporarily disconnected your optic nerve."
"And it is reversible?"
"Completely. I've done it several times before. I used a special password - an alphanumeric code that I've written down and placed in your file. It's not a code phrase that you are likely to hear by accident."
I considered. Now that I knew it wasn't permanent, I relaxed. Time to suck it up and do the job I'd agreed to do. "Okay then. What happens after breakfast?"
"We get you dressed, we go by your home and pack a bag, and I take you to my beach house for the next ten days."
"Why there?"
"Because you've never been there. You'll have to use all your O&M skills without relying on memory. While you're there, you'll help with the cooking, do the laundry, all the household chores that do not absolutely require vision. You'll do some shopping, purchase some clothes - all the things you make your clients do."
"So it's field trials all over again."
"Yes, with two exceptions: it will be physically impossible to remove your blindfold, and if you fail, you don't get your vision back for a year."
"WHAT!?!"
"You agreed to this. There has to be a condition of the test that prevents you from giving up and waiting until the test is over. A person who is really blind has to learn - he can't just give up. And neither can you."
Once again, the world spun and I wondered what I'd gotten my self into. Was Shrader insane? Was there really a program?
I considered what it would be like to wait for a year to see again. That was when it hit me. What if I never got my sight back? What if I was blind for life?
= = = = = = = = = =
A wave of polluted Galveston Bay water caught me with my mouth open. I coughed and gagged, then spat, all while treading water.
Okay, it was now official: this sucked. I was going to drown if I didn't take some action, like a pick a direction and start swimming. The thing is, there are three hundred and sixty directions in which to swim and only a few of them would lead me to land. Add to this, the possibility of finding one of the bridge spans and clinging to it for dear life until I was rescued, I'd say the odds were thirty-six to one against my choosing the right direction. I tried listening for cues, but all the horns honking and people screaming above me on the causeway way didn't help.
Wait a minute, I thought. The sound was coming from above and behind. That meant that the bridge was behind me. All I had to do was turn left or right and follow the bridge noise. My odds improved to about ten to one with that thought. I stopped treading water and started swimming. Rolling over on my back, I gently kicked for propulsion and used my arms to remain afloat.
The next thought that occurred to me was that the causeway spanned about a mile and a half from the mainland to Galveston Island and it curved. On top of that, I had no idea which end was nearest. For all I knew, I might have been twenty yards from one end and headed for the opposite end. I wasted no time quashing that thought. I had chosen a direction. Stick with it, Jimmy. Doctrine defeats doubt.
Yeah, right. At the moment, my doubts were stronger than my legs and arms. The sounds from the causeway above were still close, so I knew that I wasn't headed out to sea - yet. There was still the matter of the curvature of the causeway. Keep listening, Jimmy, use every cue you have. Keep swimming, Jimmy, keep swimming.
= = = = = = = = =
Under the pretext of taking a shower, what I really took was stock of my situation. Let's begin with...I CAN'T SEE!
Second point: Dr. Shrader wasn't going to ask me to do anything that was not within my skill level, and my skill level was pretty high. After all, I taught this stuff to other people every day. Add to that the fact that I had to qualify in those skills twice a year to keep my certification current. This was doable. It wouldn't be easy or pleasant and it would be stressful, but it was doable.
Third point: I was motivated. Money and a promotion served as the carrots and fear served as the stick.
Conclusion: I could do this.
Once I was dried off and had located my clothes, I got dressed. Shirt, pants, socks (Whew! Had to change those when I got home.) and then shoes. Laces were easy enough to manage, tucking my shirt tail in and then straightening my gig line wasn't too difficult. I made a mental note to pack polo shirts and T-shirts for the trip to Galveston. Boat shoes, too. Blind people do not go barefoot. Stubbed toes and cuts were very easy to acquire. A few minutes of groping and I found my watch, which wasn't going to do me much good. I'd need one of the talking watches or one of the Braille ones.
With every passing minute, my attitude improved. This wouldn't be easy, but it wouldn't be impossible either.
I headed back to the kitchen by trailing the wall. Trailing is a technique used by kids and people who had not yet learned their cane skills. One hand on the wall about waist high and the other in front. Eight steps, hang a left - I'm there.
"Not bad, Jimmy. Now come to the table."
From memory, I knew the table was about four steps away, which made it easy to find my chair again. Dr. Shrader said, "I have a few items here for you. You'll be using them a lot."
I heard a sound as items were pushed across the table. Reaching out, I found a watch, which I put on and slipped mine into a pocket. Next I located a slate and stylus, plus a pad of paper for taking notes. The third item was the latest Braille edition of Playboy. Well, at least Dr. Shrader has a sense of humor. Next came a Braille labeler and a talking alarm clock.
The last item sent a shock down my spine as I touched it and realized what it was. It was my cane. Yep, I'd be using that a lot.
Next, we took my cash out of my wallet, and Dr. Shrader identified each bill. The twenty got two folds lengthwise; the ten got one fold; the fives got folded widthwise and the ones stayed un-folded. My wallet and everything but the cane went into a fanny pack that Dr. Shrader provided.
Dr. Shrader said, "It's time to go."
Being driven wasn't hard - just unnatural. Unlike people from New York and Boston who always use cabs and sometimes never even learn how to drive, we Texans are accustomed to doing our own driving. As I rode, I thought about what it would be like to never drive again; to be dependent on others for transportation.
When we got to my condo, I got us inside and told Dr. Shrader to relax while I packed.
"Don't you want some help?", he asked.
"I will at one point, but up to then, I intend to do it."
I got a hanging bag and a duffel from the closet. Four pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts, a swim suit, boat shoes, A couple of my Jimmy Buffet T-shirts, and assorted socks and underwear went into the duffel. My suit, a sports coat, and four shirts went into the hanging bag. Ditto my dress shoes. Galveston is very casual, but I wanted the option of going somewhere nice at least one night.
Next came toiletries. Electric shaver, skin care products (had to remember to label them later), teethbreesh, tooth paste, comb, and blood pressure meds all went into the ditty bag. I had the feeling that I was missing something, but I already knew what it was. My .357 magnum would have to stay home in the night stand. It usually went with me on trips, but there was no point in it this time.
That left me two things which required help.
Dr. Shrader selected a tie to go with my suit, agreeing that a fancy dining experience was indeed part of the test, and then he grabbed my Banana Wind CD, along with a few others, while I got my discman. Next came some spare batteries. I was set.
"I'm impressed, Jimmy. You keep your home very organized and you are finding everything quite well. So far, so good."
I laughed and said, "Do you know the definition of an optimist? It's a guy who jumps off of a ninety story building and says 'so far, so good' as he passes the third floor."
Dr. Shrader laughed at that. I locked up and we went back to the car. An hour later, we were on the island.
"Can we make one stop before we get there?" There's a place I always go when I come this way."
"Sure."
"Head for the strand and stop at La King's."
"La King's?"
"Yes. It's time to feed my addiction."
I could feel the weird look he gave me. Five minutes later, we were parked. Dr. Shrader said, "We're on right side of the street. From your car door, up to the curb, find the wall and the door should be about six paces to the left."
"Are you coming?"
"Yes, but separately."
"Okay."
I got out of the car and up on the curb. The island is prone to flooding, so many of the curbs are two to three feet above street level. Following his directions, I went inside.
"Uh... can I... help you, sir?", I heard a teen aged voice say.
"Yes, I need a pound of salt water taffy - half root beer and mix the other half."
"Uh... okay."
I asked her if she would come and let me take her arm. The girl did as I asked and led me to the counter. La King's is not merely a candy store. It's an old style confectionery and many of the treats were made there. Some people like the smell of a good cigar or pipe tobacco, I love the smell of chocolate. I inhaled deeply. I could live here. I wouldn't live long, but I would die a happy man.
A handful of taffy hit the scale and then another and then another. Two were added, then one was put back. The sounds were quite distinct.
"That will be three fifteen."
It's funny, I could tell this little girl had her mouth open as I handed her a five, took the change, checked the coins and slipped the one back into my wallet. As I turned to leave, she said, "There's a ..."
"... display to my right. I know, we went around it on the way in."
I could hear Dr. Shrader chuckle as he ordered some chocolate covered raisins. Well, we all have our preferences.
A few minutes later, he found me back at the car, chewing and savoring. "Again, pretty good, Jimmy. Now let's see what happens when you go to a new place with no memory attached to it."
"You think I had the layout of that place memorized?"
"Yes. You went in, took four steps and stopped before your cane told you that support column was there. The young lady led you to the counter, but the path you took back was not the way she led you. You maneuvered in there just as you did at your home.
"Hmmmm...", I thought. Maybe he was right. Maybe my confidence was coming from memory.
= = = = = = = =
I didn't know where my confidence had come from, but I knew exactly where it went when I felt that bump - right down my pants leg along with some bodily fluids. It wouldn't matter. Galveston Bay was already polluted.
It was a very fishy bump. It was a very large bump - substantial. I did the only thing I knew to do: I took a deep breath and stopped moving. After I sank a few inches, I could feel it out there, circling. With no choice, I kicked once, surfaced, got another breath and relaxed again.
This called drownproofing. It allows you to rest your arms and legs for a few seconds when swimming long distances. It was still there - I know because it bumped me again. Fighting my panic instinct, I got another breath at the surface and relaxed again.
Whatever it was lost interest in me a minute later. I felt it swim away. I surfaced and got my breath back. That was when I noticed two things: first, I could no longer hear the sounds from the bridge, and second, the water had dropped at least two degrees suddenly.
Oh, shit. I was caught in a current.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Dr. Shrader had been right. I had been relying on memories, even old ones. In all the years that I've lived down here, La King's has never moved any of the fixtures.
As graphic evidence of this, I present to you the bruises on my shins. There very painful bruises on my shins - both of 'em. Dr. Shrader led me as far as the front door to his beach house because the path was tricky. I was allowed this one trip as a freebie. From now on, I'd have to do it on my own.
Leaving my gear on the porch, I stepped inside and was told to map the room. Room mapping is the basis for one of the old Helen Keller jokes that were so distasteful. How did Helen Keller's parents punish her? They rearranged the furniture.
Ha ha. Using my cane, I followed the circumference of the room until I reached furniture, then went back the other way until I reached furniture there. Next, I used my cane to maneuver around the furniture like a cat doing figure eights between someone's legs until I knew the room's layout. Once I had that down, I began counting steps from chair to sofa, from sofa to end table to lamp - you get the idea. I was doing all at once what I built in my mind over the years at home. Blind people have to do this all the time. The thing is, you have to do this slowly since not everything is nailed down.
From the living room, to the kitchen, I did the same, taking in the layout of the appliances and their relative distances. Dining area came next, followed by the glass sliding door which I guessed led to the beach. I'd table that one for now since I had no doubt that Dr. Shrader had plans that involved beach travel. I found the bedrooms and asked which one I was to use.
"The one on the left. Map it and then come back for your luggage. I'll take my stuff upstairs while you unpack."
I did as I was told and then came back to the porch. Carrying luggage is an excellent demonstration of how important it is to do a good job of room mapping. Since your hands are occupied, you must have a good idea where you are, where you are going, and how much space you are occupying. Otherwise, you wind up knocking over a lamp, falling over a coffee table and landing in a pile on the floor. Ouch.
= = = = = = = = = = =
Ouch! That stings!
I had managed to mostly pass by a jelly fish and was only grazed by one of it's tentacles. That's why I was only in excruciating pain.
I was making good time now. The current had picked up speed. Enough that I knew there was no point in trying to fight it. I had one hope and one hope only: a boat had to find me or I had to find it. All I could do was tread water and wait... and pray.
= = = = = = = = = = =
The rest of the first day and night went much better. Dr. Shrader, who I was calling Bob now, helped me with some labeling. My Braille skills were being tested now. With that done, we relaxed and talked for a while. He had lots of questions about my impressions, my anxiety level, what types of input I was processing.
We discussed the syllabus for the test. It was leisurely, but each day would have different challenges and each day would have some challenges repeated to check the learning curve. In addition, I would have an EEG or brain wave test run each day to chart how my brain adapted.
No sooner had he mentioned this than there came a knock at the door. I was introduced to Sue Ellen, who would be doing the tests. Now here's a blindism for you. Sighted people automatically put their hands out when they meet someone. Blind people do the same when being introduced to a sighted person, but rarely ever do when being introduced to another blind person because we know the odds of our hands meeting for the handshake.
I took Sue Ellen's hand and it was very soft. She smelled of vanilla. It was her hand lotion, I think, because I smelled it on my hand later that night. Her voice was soft and I put her age at late twenties. We chatted for a few minutes as the daily schedule was set up. When that was done, she led me into her room and wired my head. Did I mention that her hands were very soft?
Up to now, being blind had left me rather limp. Each time I got anxious about what I was about to do, where I was about to go, what was happening around me, the fear would make me limper. Being touched my a woman that I could not see began to arouse me. It was not knowing when the touch would come, coupled by the sensation of being touched.
She did the test and unwired me, then told me that I need to go rinse the glue out of my hair. As I got up and went to the bathroom, I thought I heard a familiar tapping sound. A few minutes later, I had toweled my hair dry and was walking back into the living room when I bumped into Sue Ellen and we both fell. I heard luggage fall as well.
"Sorry about that."
"No problem."
"Here, let me...", that was when I felt it. Her cane. I know it was hers because I knew where mine was.
"You're blind too?"
"I was born blind. Didn't Dad tell you?"
Dad?
It turned out that Sue Ellen's last name was indeed Shrader. In addition to doing the EEG tests, she was a control of sorts for comparison purposes. Dr. Shrader wanted to compare a recently blinded person with skills (me) to a recently blinded person with no skills (no shortage of those back the Lighthouse) and to a person who had never known sight and had learned the skills while learning everything else that a child learns.
This was going to be an interesting ten days.
= = = = = = =
Well, the last minutes of my life were going to be interesting - and dull. All I could do was tread water and ... THUD! CLANG!
I reached out and grabbed at whatever it was that I'd hit. It swiveled and rocked and bucked like a wild horse. A marker buoy! That meant that I was in the channel. Boats would be coming by this way.
I wearily climbed up on to the marker and began shivering as the breeze hit my wet clothes. That boat had better come soon.
= = = = = = =
That pizza had better come soon, I thought. I was starving. Breakfast was just a memory. Although I would have to do some cooking eventually, it was decided that our first meal should be an easy one, so we ordered out.
Once it arrived, we sat in the living room with pizza, wine, and Mr. Buffett. I had brought along one of his live albums and we were kicking back and listening to it. I was surprised to find out that both Dr. Shrader and Sue Ellen were also parrot heads like me. I wondered how many concerts we might have unknowingly gone to together.
Sue Ellen's hand found mine and squeezed gently. I was very self conscious and even more conscious that this was my boss's daughter. Keep it clean, Jimmy, I thought to myself.
At one point Dr. Shrader excused himself for his nightly walk - a private ritual he enjoyed. I wasn't expected to join him since it was perpetual night for me. My walk could wait for daylight. No sooner were we alone than Sue Ellen wrapped her arm around my shoulder and cuddled closely.
"I'm cold. Warm me up.", she said.
"Is this a good idea?", I asked.
She laughed gently. "Dad's no prude. If we exercise a tiny amount of discretion, he'll turn a blind eye to us, if you would pardon that expression. He knows I'm not a virgin, and I know that he sees a woman here on the island when he visits. That's where he's going now. Mom's been gone for a long time now, and I'm happy that he's found someone. Odds are, he won't be back until morning, although he'll pretend to have slept here."
"Why bother?"
"Because the woman he sees is married. Her husband works the off shore rigs so they know just how big a window of opportunity they have each time. They don't have to worry about him coming in on them, but they have to keep the neighbors from suspecting. Dad won't go near the place in the day time."
"Okay."
"Did I ever tell you that I like a man who wears Old Spice?"
Like Sue Ellen, it had been a long time since I'd lost my virginity. Nor had I been celibate since then. I have a healthy libido. We went to my room (the blind leading the blind, literally).
Blind sex was something different from anything I had ever experienced. If I spoke, she would place her fingertip on my lips, gently. All of our cues were tactile. It was wonderful.
It was a good thing that I'd set an alarm. It allowed us that tiny bit of discretion that was required.
The next day was a busy one. I made biscuits from scratch (with direction from Sue Ellen), fried bacon without burning myself and then scrambled some eggs. The clean up process took a while because we were never quite sure when something was clean enough. A shower and some clothes came next. I settled into my usual off-duty summer wardrobe established years ago when I sailed the Gulf of Mexico with friends: jeans, a polo shirt and boat shoes. Sue Ellen had on a very summery cotton dress. She liked to feel the breeze, much like I did.
We were driven to the park and led to the jogging trail for navigation exercises, sound analysis, and a walk through the playground. That afternoon, we were back at home where reading and writing Braille was tested.
That night, I made dinner (hamburgers on the grill - very well done - oops!) and once again Dr. Shrader excused himself for his late night walk. Sue Ellen and I improved upon the previous night's adventure with some imaginative games.
The next day, Dr. Shrader and I went back to the mainland. There had been an altercation between another instructor and Mr. Dixon. I got Mr. Dixon's side of it, while Dr. Shrader dealt with the other instructor. As I expected, Mr. Dixon was the instigator, although Kenny should have been more patient. I know I was getting some funny looks from the staff as I used a cane to travel around the building. I explained about the study and the grant, implying that the other instructors needed to get ready for their turn. Dr. Shrader announce my promotion and I got my hand shaken a few dozen times. Since client days are numbered, I took Mr. Dixon through the day's lessons. It was the only time I got no back talk from him. I had shown him (figuratively speaking) that, yes, I could do it if I were blind.
Truth to tell, I was getting into this test. I was "with the program" as they say and I had no doubt that some interesting data would come from it.
As we drove back to the island, Dr. Shrader and I had a little talk. He knew about me and Sue Ellen. "Unlike the two of you, I'm not blind. I can see it a mile off. Be careful, use protection, and don't hurt her if things don't work out between you. That's all I ask.
"To be honest, I have no problem with it, beyond the problem any father has with his daughter's sexuality. If you ever have a daughter, you'll understand then. Girl's are God's punishment for being a man. You live in fear that they will find a boy just like you used to be."
We both laughed. Then I heard him say, "Hang on!"
There was a screech of brakes, a rending of metal and then seconds of terrifying freefall before the impact of the car into the water below. The car was filling fast. Dr. Shrader said, "Jimmy, my legs are caught. Listen carefully: Alpha One, Bravo Deuce, Charlie Trey..."
Then the water engulfed us. I got my seat belt off, opened the door, and swam for the surface. Praying that Dr. Shrader was behind me and knowing that he was not. He'd gone to the bottom with the car.
I got to the surface and spat out water, breathed in air and spat some more. My head was bleeding. I know because it hurts and I can taste blood. I was treading water with a very sore knee and I hurt all over. To top all this off, I had no idea which way to swim because I couldn't tell in which direction lay the shore. I was blind. Sightless. No vision whatsoever.
= = = = = = = =
As I sat on the buoy and rocked with the waves, I took the time to do something I badly needed to do. Something I'd been too busy to do up to now. I cried.
I mourned for my boss, a good man who had never said a word in anger in the time I had known him. Sue Ellen's father, who had all but given me his blessing to pursue his daughter's hand and heart. I also mourned for my eyes and my vision, because the only man who knew how to return it was dead. I would spend the rest of life - however long that was to be - blind. It wasn't a test any more. It was life.
= = = = = = = =
"His blood pressure is coming back and so is his pulse."
"Let's get another blanket on him."
"Start an IV. D5w with an antibiotic piggyback. That wound on his head is going to get infected, sure as hell. Might as well start fighting it now."
I knew where I had to be but that didn't stop me from asking, "Where am I?"
"Sir, you're at John Sealy hospital. You were life flighted in about twelve minutes ago. Can you tell me your name?"
I numbly answered a lot of questions. Then it finally came. "Mr. Jackson, we need to examine you a little bit more and then we'll find you a room for the night. Follow my finger with your eyes, please."
I knew I'd have to say it sometime. "I can't - I'm blind."
He didn't understand. "Okay, Annie... we'll need a skull x-ray, and a head CT. Get a consult from opthamology, too."
"Don't bother.", I told him. "I was blind before the accident."
Total silence then, "Okay. Well we'll still need those tests run to make sure you don't have a head injury from the crash."
I tuned him out after that.
The next day I woke up and had to be assured that it hadn't all been a bad dream. Dr. Shrader really was dead. Divers had removed his body from the wreckage. Sue Ellen had been informed already. I dialed the beach house and she picked up. I told her that I was all right and asked if she would bring me some clothes so I could get dressed and leave. She said she would be there as soon as she could get a cab. Next I called the lighthouse and told them what had happened. I asked Kenny, who had been forgiven mostly, to bring me some things that I would be needing.
First off, I needed a cane.
= = = = = = = = = = =
The next two weeks were a mental blur for me. Official statements, helping Sue Ellen with funeral arrangements, coping, crying, holding her while she cried. When I finally left the island, she was with me. She moved into my condo and we stayed together - two wounded souls. Partly because we had shared the tragic loss of her father and partly because she felt somewhat responsible for me being blind, she helped me work the stages of my grief as I helped her.
Not suprisingly, the Lighthouse found work for me. Not that much different from what I had been doing, all things considred. If being blind for life wasn't easy, at least it wasn't hard either. I had skills and I had all kinds of support. The regional director came down and ran things for a couple of months and then he called me in and said that he wanted to promote me to the position. He said that I had the skills and the patience and the empathy to do a good job. I thanked him and accepted.
When I told Sue Ellen about it, she was thrilled. It helped that I would be carrying on her father's work. Then she told me something that shocked me. She said that she had fallen in love with me.
"In addition to being a great guy and a wonderful lover, there is one additional factor: You are the only person who has ever treated me like an equal. You don't try to protect me or coddle me. You accept my help and you wait until I ask for help. You understand my life the way no sighted man ever could. Even Daddy never fully understood - he couldn't. You're the only guy I've ever met that I would be happy sharing my life with."
All I could do was kiss her and say, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For allowing me to share your life."
Life went on. I had lost much, but gained more. It was almost a year later when my personal assistant, Gail brought the file in. Since it was her day off from the hospital, Sue Ellen and I were spending my lunch break planning a small but intimate wedding.
Gail said that she had come across some papers pertaining to a grant project that Dr. Shrader had applied for. There were some notes, a couple of EEG readouts and a file with my name on it.
Anxiety gripped my chest. Was it there?
I said, "Gail, look through the file with my name on it. Do you see a string of letters and numbers? There was an access code to... a computer file."
I didn't dare tell them. I waited until she said. "This might be it. 'Alpha One, Bravo Deuce, Charlie Trey, Delta Four'. Does that mean anything to you?"
Did it ever. There was a painful flash and then I could see light. Objects slowly came into focus as my brain tried to process the information it was receiving. Information it hadn't been receiving for quite a while
"No, Gail, that wasn't it.", I lied. "Transcribe it all when you get time, but there's no rush."
She left the room and I slowly swiveled my chair until I saw the love of my life. She was beautiful. Sue Ellen had beautiful white skin, a little freckled nose, and red hair that was shoulder length. She had perky breasts and kissable lips. Her eyes were white globs of jelly and tissue that had never transmitted a single image to her brain. Now I knew why many people gasped when they saw her. She almost never wore sunglasses, despite the fact that I usually did. For her there was no point.
I studied her as she made notes for things that we needed to arrange. I called to mind what I had lost and what I had gained. I brought the two into a perfect balance.
I picked up the phone and dialed Gail's extension. "Yes, Mr. Jackson?"
"Gail, read me that access code again, please."
I turned to face Sue Ellen and gaze upon her beauty one last time. Gail read off the code sequence and my vision went away.
"You know, Gail. I know what that code goes to now and we don't need it. Go ahead and shred that file."
Gail said okay and hung up. I heard Sue Ellen flip the slate over and proof read her notes. She asked, "What was that code phrase for, Hon?"
"Nothing important."