[I was replying to an E-Mail from Lenwi when he put me in mind of this incident. It happened about a year ago. I started to pretty it up, but then I decided to tell what really happened that day - all of it. If you choose to disbelieve, go ahead. Thanks, lenwi!]
by Amy Casseaux
By the calendar, I see that six weeks have gone by since I last donated blood.
It's time for a another blindsim! I have saved enough cash for cab fare and a dinner out. No one expects me or is likely to call. No one I know is in the hospital, so I'm safe enough there.
That means that tomorrow is the day! I can hardly wait. I pass the night in anticipation as I get out my alternate purse and make sure it's in order. There is nothing in it that would give me away. A few minutes is all it takes to transfer my cash after having folded it as a blind person would. I have my fake ID already clipped on the strap in what looks like a careless fashion.
I'll need my comfortable shoes because I do a lot of walking when I do this one. A blue denim skirt and a white top makes me look coordinated, but not flashy or out of character. I wear dressy slacks and a jacket at work, a tux when I work catering jobs on the weekends, and jeans and a top around home. I rarely wear skirts or dresses so that no one is likely to recognize me when I blindsim, short of bumping into me at close range or hearing my voice.
I decide to get into character early. All the lights in my apartment go out, and I put on eye patches. I take a shower and wash my hair, imagining scenarios where someone breaks in and I can't see them. Frightening, but arousing so long as it remains a fantasy. I have no desire to be raped, so I keep my apartment locked up tightly.
I dry off and do my hair up in a towel. I'm kind of snacky hungry, so I make my way to the kitchen for some ice cream. In the past, I have made a blind banana split, exulting both in the flavors and in the sensations of having it drip down my face and onto my bare breasts. Messy, but erotic, which is kind of what blindsimming is for me.
Not tonight, though. I'm just in the mood for a bite of Blue Bell's strawberry mango sherbet. Finally, it's time to wash the dish and go to bed.
Anticipation keeps me awake, but I finally fall asleep. The alarm wakes me up at eight o'clock Saturday morning and I jump out of bed and grab my cane. I take care of those little things a girl has to do in the morning. I leave off the makeup, since a truly blind woman would. I can't decide whether to keep my hair down and loose or up in a pony tail. I decide to put a pony tail holder in my handbag and leave it down. I like having my hair move in the breeze.
It's time to call a cab. I'm told that it will be ten minutes. That gives me time to get downstairs and get ready. Reluctantly, I remove my patches, and go out side. No one in my complex knows about my proclivities, and I want it kept that way. That's why I walk quickly to the bus stop four blocks away. No one is around so, on the last block, I don my opaque wraparound Ray-Bans and take out my cane. I close my eyes and relax my face.
I use the grass along the sidewalk to orient, and I walk to the far end of the block. Tap, tap... break in the sidewalk... tap, tap... mail box. I'm almost there. A row of three newspaper vending machines comes next, followed by a wall that forms one side of the covered bus stop. I'm there.
I step into the shade and find the seat, then I fold my cane and set it next to me. A few minutes pass and I hear a car pull up and stop.
"Cab, Ma'am?"
"Yes." I call out. It's show time!
I stand and unfold my cane, orient and take three steps before my cane finds the cab. I reach out and touch it, then use the cab's side to locate the door to the back seat. Once I'm in, I say, "Texas Children's Hospital, please. Drop me off at the main entrance."
"You got it."
I sit back and relax, having no idea how close the driver is coming to curbs, other car's, etc. Oddly enough, there is no anxiety. It doesn't take to long before we come to a stop and I hear, "We're here, ma'am."
I pay him and he gets out and opens my door, then leads me to the sidewalk, explaining that he's double parked. I get handed off to one of the valets, who leads me inside to the volunteer desk. They know me here.
I hear, "Hello, Miss Belle. It's that time again, is it?"
I hold my hand out in front of me and in a moment I feel Walter take it for a friendly shake. I say, "Hi, Walter!"
I hear a second voice tell me that Walter was named Volunteer of the Year. I tell him this deserves a hug and I give him a good one. Walter is an older man and very nice. From his voice, I guess his age to be late sixties. He places my hand on his arm and leads me to the blood bank, chatting as we go. I keep my cane in front of me, but rely on Walter. in my mind, I imagine how I look and I get that rush.
Once we arrive, I get handed off to Sarah, who takes me back, rather than make me wait up front. She seats me, takes my blood pressure, and we go through the usual questionnaire: health questions, travel questions, medications, unsafe sex... the usual litany. I give my answers and when I hear the paper placed in front of me, I hold out my hand. A pen is placed in it and I am directed to the right places. I sign and initial and then offer the pen back. Next comes the finger prick, and I hold my left hand out palm up. Sarah takes my index finger, squeezes twice and then - ow!. It always surprises me and I always jump a little, then we both laugh.
"The drop sank, so you're good to donate, Amy."
Only once has the drop of blood floated in the solution, and I was told to take some iron pills for a week and come back. I am led to one of the special couches, and helped up on it. Sarah gently tugs at my skirt hem, in an effort at giving me modesty that I apparently lack. Embarrassed for me, she whispers, "There's a man right across from you."
"Okay.", I tell her. She presses a button somewhere and the couch shifts so that my feet are higher than my heart. The couch conforms to my body or my body to the couch. It's comfortable, that's all I know.
She takes my arm and puts on the elastic band, then she taps my arm in several places as she searches of a vein. "Ready?" she asks.
I nod and begin to breath in through my nose and exhale gently through my mouth. I relax my shoulders. There is a tiny bite, and moment of discomfort and then it's over. I feel tape being placed over the catheter and a squeezee thing is placed in my hand. I begin to squeeze rhythmically.
I hear an Ouch across from me. It must be that guy. In an effort to distract him and make the experience easier for him, I call out, "Hey, over there! You want to have a race to see who fills their collection bag first?"
"Uh... no thanks!"
"Awwww.... Come on!"
I can hear him laugh. He knows what I'm trying to do.
"First time?"
I guess it's taking him some time to answer, but he says, "Uh, yeah."
From his voice and his breathing, I can tell that he his uneasy about giving blood. Some people have a hard time. I ask, "Stocking up for yourself, or donating for someone?"
"My son. He's having surgery tomorrow. My wife already donated."
"What blood type does he need?" My, but I'm being nosy, aren't I?
"B positive."
I nod, then call out, "Sarah, you there?"
From across the room, I hear, "Not even halfway full, Amy. A few more minutes."
"Cool. Give this guy's kid a unit of O pos and put it on my tab, will you?"
The man says, "Oh, that's not..."
I tell him it's all right, "I donate all the time, my account is full of free units. Besides, we O's can give to anyone."
"Thanks.", I hear.
"I'm Amy Belle."
"Frank Ayers."
"Glad to meet you.", I tell him - and it's true. I enjoy giving blood for more than just blindsimming.
Once, I'm done, Sarah comes and unhooks me, gives me a cotton ball and a Band-Aid, then lifts my arm over my head. I hold it there to reduce the bruising as she takes the blood away.
A few minutes later I'm in the cookie and orange juice room. I'm offered a selection and I choose Oreos for the kid in me. Frank joins me and we chat. His son has cancer and I discover that tomorrow he'll lose his left leg at the knee - if all goes well. If the cancer has spread, they might have to take the leg off much higher. I tell him how sorry I am to hear it and I ask if I can meet his son. Unsure of why, he tells me yes. Once we've finished our cookies and juice, he leads me out of the donation center and up to a room.
I'm a little uncertain as I go in, but I get led to a bed and I hear, "Tommy, this is Amy. She donated some blood for you."
"Hi, Tommy." I say and I hear a frightened hi in return. I hold my hand out and get it shook. Then he asks, "Why are you wearing those glasses?"
Though vibrations, I can feel his father shake his head that Tommy shouldn't ask. I tell him that I'm blind.
"Oh, okay." Kids are cool with it. It's adults that get weird.
We chat for awhile. I try to joke with him, but I can tell he's so frightened. I can well imagine. Tommy's mother tells me that they're hoping that all goes well and that the doctors get all the cancer - that it hasn't spread. In a flash of insight, I discover why I'm here.
I ask, "Tommy, do you believe in witches?"
Total silence, then "I don't know."
I reach into my collar and pull out the pentacle that hangs around my neck. "I am a witch and I am real. If your parents will let me, I'll try to help you."
"My grandma says that Harry Potter stuff is devil worship."
I smile, and I tell him that Harry Potter is just a character in series of books, then I tell him that witches don't believe in a devil, so we can't worship what we don't believe in.
From Frank and his wife, I sense a quiet desperation. Either would sell their souls for this boy. To Frank, I say, "Will you put my hand on his leg?"
He does and it's time for me try my best. I reach out with my consciousness to the Goddess I love and I ask that all the cancer be taken. I don't dare ask that the leg be saved. Some things can not be asked.
I say, "Goddess above, who made us in love, I can not wait for the moon to ask for a boon. I call for your help and mercy for this boy. Help him now and bring us all joy. Tomorrow, take the cue and let the Doctor's knife cut true. Let his eye see keenly and the cancer be removed cleanly. Hear us as we beg, send your power through this leg. End this boy's strife and give him a long and happy life. So mote it be!"
Okay, out there. I don't care what you believe, I really did feel something pass through me. It's the same thing I feel as I cast a circle under a full moon. It's a kind of energy flow, and right at that moment I felt it go through me and into that kid's leg.
As I said so mote it be, I clapped my hands together as loudly and as hard as I could. I think we all jumped. There passed a moment when none of us knew what to say or do. I told Tommy and his parents good-bye and left the room. I know I was shaking as I walked the few steps to the nurse's desk. I asked if someone would lead me to the lobby or call for Walter to come and get me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and a woman asked if I was all right. I sniffled and I nodded. She called for Walter, who had been expecting my call. As we walked to the elevator, he told me that Sarah had told him what had happened in the donation center. I felt very sad and I began to get dizzy.
I asked Walter if he would guide me to the McDonald's on the ground floor (yes, there really is a McDonalds franchise in the Children's hospital. Reportedly, its owner takes ten percent of the net profit and gives the other ninety to Ronald McDonald House.)
A few minutes later I was sitting at a booth with a burger and a shake. My blood sugar was low from donating and Walter said he'd be back in fifteen minutes. I sat and ate my burger, trying to get back in character and back in the mood. I couldn't. I sat and I cried for Tommy. I'm sure that anyone who saw me thought I was crying for some reason related to being blind. On another sim, I might have enjoyed that, but not today.
I hoped that I had done some good, given some hope. A spell is little more than a prayer with some manipulation of personal energy, really. As with everyone else's prayers, I get "no" as a response from time to time.
It wasn't long before Walter came and led me to the lobby, then called for a cab. By the time it arrived my sadness had gone away. Walter led me to it and helped me in. I told the driver where I wanted to go. The day wasn't over for me. I had one more stop.
At Chat & Clip, I did exactly that: I chatted with Gabriel while he washed and cut my hair. This was already in the budget, so I got a manicure and pedicure, too. Decadence, that's what it was - pure decadence. It was also just what I needed after meeting Tommy.
When we were done, I had a complete surprise. Gabriel was going home just then and wanted to help me shop. "Girlfriend, that top is too drab. I know you can't see, but we can. Come with me."
He led me to his car and we invented our own show: Queer Eye For The Blind Girl. He took me to Macy's and, with his descriptions, I selected an emerald green blouse. Okay, so I'll eat more salad and less meat for a week or two. It doesn't hurt me to do that once in a while. Besides, I love silk!
From Macy's, we went to Gabriel's apartment in Montrose and kind of hung out. I was having a great day. Some friends of his came over and we got introduced. Next thing I knew, I was invited to a party. I said that I wasn't dressed for a party. First I was told that it wasn't dressy, then Gabriel reminded me of my purchase.
I laughed. "I may be blind, but I know that green silk doesn't go with blue denim."
One of Gabriel's friends said that he was my size and had a black skirt that he'd loan me. Yes, "he". Louis became Louisa on the weekends. I wound up borrowing shoes, too.
The party was wonderful and I danced until I couldn't dance anymore. I was having the time of my life. Tommy had finally left my mind. It was five AM when Gabriel took me home. I'd had too much to drink, but at that hour I figured I was safe enough in walking to my apartment without being seen.
It was the first time I had ever entered my apartment blind. I didn't remove my Ray-Bans and the apartment was still dark. I got undressed, making a mental note that a blindsim was necessary next weekend to take Louisa's clothes and shoes back to Gabriel. I showered to get the smoke out of my hair and I laid down, then decided to put eye patches on. I didn't want it to end. I slept wonderfully and oddly enough didn't have much of a hangover when I got up that afternoon. I kept the patches on until I went to bed Sunday night. Tommy never once popped into my mind.
I thought it was the end of another wonderful blindsim, but I was wrong.
The weirdest thing happened Monday after I got home from work. Without any conscious thought on the subject all day long, without any conscious decision to do so, I found myself getting into character and I called for a cab to take me back to the hospital. Tommy had not entered my mind in more than twenty four hours, but right now I had to know. I mean, I just had to.
A volunteer I didn't know led me to Tommy Ayers' room and I heard Franks' voice call my name.
"Amy?"
"Hi. I wanted to see how Tommy is."
I heard Frank's wife (never did get her name) say, "They got it all. All of it. There was no sign of any spread."
There were tears in her voice, but grateful tears. Tragedy and gratitude all mixed up into one emotion. That was when Frank said, "They didn't have to go as high as they expected. He kept about four inches below the knee. They say that will make walking easier when he gets a prosthesis."
I feel much the same emotions as they did: sorrow and relief. An odd thing happened to me just at that moment. I felt an odd rushing flow through my body, like something was leaving me. I said my good-byes and then I went home.
I never visited Tommy again. I have no idea where they live. Like the Shriner's hospitals, people come from all over to Texas Children's.
Call it Divine Will, call it Karma, or call it random chance mixed with free will. I choose to believe the Goddess put me in the right place at the right time. Maybe I helped, maybe I didn't. I don't know.