by Amy Casseaux
"Ma'am, can you hear me?"
The voice kind of echoed, as if it came from far away. I knew it was close because I could hear feel the words spoken almost in to my ear. Before I could form a response, I heard more.
"Let's get a skull series and CT. Do an ankle and foot series. Call neuro and ortho for the leg. Did the ambulance bring in a purse?"
"None was found, they said. She was found wandering in the middle of the street by two cops and then she lost consciousness."
"Lets get a tox screen and find out what she's on."
"Narcan?"
"Not until we rule out a head injury."
A laugh, then, "I think the bleeding head lac plus the bruises on her cheek are a good indication there's a head injury."
"You know what mean. I've got a rule out MI in curtain six and a pelvic in four. Call me when the X-rays and CT are done."
"Speaking of pelvic, do we want to do a rape kit?"
"Let's wait for the ..."
I drifted off. I was in and out a lot. People handled me and moved me and there was pain, but I kept drifting away. I was in a dark place that made no sense. I hurt all over. The pain slowly increased until I stopped drifting. I was still in a dark place, but it felt more real for some reason.
"Ma'am?"
"Huh? Who's there?"
"I'm Donna, your nurse. Can you tell me your name?"
My mouth opened but nothing came out. I couldn't seem to concentrate.
"Ma'am, you're in a hospital. You were attacked by someone. Can you tell me your name?"
"Hospital? What day is it?"
"Thursday morning after Labor Day. You were brought in late Monday night. Can you tell me your name? No one was able to find your purse or any ID."
I was listening to the woman's voice and wondering why it was so dark. My head hurt and the more I concentrated, the more it hurt. "My name is... uh,... well, I know what my name is. It's..."
It wouldn't come.
Donna said, "Don't worry about it. Someone hit you on the head really hard. You've been unconscious for two days. Give it time to come back to you."
"Okay, could I have some tylenol or anything? I have a headache."
"I'll check. Anything else before I go?"
"Yeah, turn a light on, will you?"
"Uh, .. the lights are on and there's light coming through the window."
"But I can't see... why can't I se if there's no..."
Oh, shit.
The fuzziness went away but the darkness didn't. I was fully awake now and my heart was beating wildly. I was blind and I didn't know my name or where I was and I was blind. This wasn't good.
It didn't take long before I had all sorts of medical professionals (or so they claimed) all around me. I was poked, prodded, had blood drawn and based on the one question most often asked, I'm pretty sure I had a number of lights shined in my eyes. The more often I had to answer that question with a "no", the more depressed I got.
It almost made me forget that I had forgotten who I was.
After what seemed like a long time, I was finally left alone which occasioned a good cry. I don't know how or when or why I got handed the fuzzy end of the lollipop, but that's what I was holding.
I heard the door open. "Feel better now?"
It was a female voice, one I had not yet encountered. I asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm Dr. Peterson. You can call me Alice, if you like. I come from a big family of doctors, so I don't always respond when I hear Dr. Peterson."
The voice moved closer and I felt a hand take mine and shake it once, gently. She exuded calm and friendliness in contrast to the others who were very detached and technical. "What can you tell me, Alice?"
"Well let's start at the top: You're at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas, Texas. You are recovering from a concussion incurred during an assault of some kind, and you have a sprained ankle, probably from running in heels. No one could find a purse or any ID. We did a pelvic exam and while I can not rule out a sexual motive for the attack, you were not penetrated during it, although you had had sex within 48 hours of the attack. Judging from the clothes you were wearing, your general health and appearance, your dental care and skin care, you are not a homeless person. You were wearing a Rice University class ring, and we're waiting for some yearbooks to be sent to us."
"Okay. Now what?"
"I need to check a couple of things. It won't involve needles, I promise."
Okay.", I felt myself smile involuntarily. Alice was trying to make me feel less shitty and was succeeding. She asked me to put my hands on the tray table I did and a sheet of paper was placed before me. I touched it and felt bumps. Alice reoriented the paper and as if by habit, my fingers went to the top row. " a... b... c... d..."
I called out the alphabet, the first ten numbers, and a few words like dog, cat and bath room. Alice said, "Okay, you've been blind for a while. Long enough to begin to learn braille, at least. Now try this."
The paper was taken away and a piece of wood was laid in front of me. Once again, my fingers ran across it and found shapes. "a... b... c... 1... 2... 3."
"Okay, " Alice said, "One more test."
A pen was placed in my hand and paper laid down. My hand was directed to the paper. "Sign your name."
As if by it's own will, my hand began to move before stopping. "What did I write?"
I heard a chuckle. "Well, your motor skill memory has given us your first name. Glad to meet you, Melinda!"
Melinda... Melinda... Melinda Jordan!
"My name is Melinda Jordan."
"Excellent! Does anything else come to you?"
I placed a hand on my forehead. "You mean besides this headache?"
"Yes. Like an address maybe?"
"Not so far."
"Any other names? Like relatives, a Mom and a Dad?"
"Mom died back in...", I paused then said. "She died four years ago. Dad passed away when I was two."
"Good. Take a deep breath now and try to relax. I'm going to say some numbers see if any sound familiar. 713...? 281...? 932...? 770..."
Unbidden, my lips said, "...087. 77087 is my zip code. Try those other numbers again."
She did and this time I said, "713 is my area code, but I can't remember any more right now."
"That's okay. You're doing quite well. Let's take a break from numbers. What color is the sky?"
"Blue."
"What color is a tree?"
"Brown with green leaves generally."
"Picture a tree in your mind. Is the bark a dark brown or a light brown?"
"Dark."
On and on we went just like that. The subject kept changing and Alice would intersperse the questions with jokes, riddles and stories from her family. We never focused on any single point for very long. I just relaxed and went along with it. Slowly, a few simple facts were established, I had been born with vision, but I couldn't remember ever seeing anything. At one point, I described Presidents Clinton and Bush, but I could not call their faces to mind.
Lunch came, and Alice stood up to go. I said, "Do you have to go?"
"Yes, but I'll be back this afternoon. I need to do some research and I need to make some calls. Now that we have a name for you, we're going to try to find out where you live and maybe find a relative. We need to discover the answer to one very important question before you leave here."
"What question?"
"Why you can't see."
"Why is that important?
"Because you're not blind."
With that, she left. I wanted to ask more but her statement astounded me - stunned me in fact.
How could I not be blind? I knew braille. On top of that - I couldn't see! What had she meant?
Using my fingers, I found my lunch. I was ravenous, so I located the serve wear, clocked my plate, placed my drink at two o'clock relative to the plate and began to eat. Once I was finished one of the nurses came in and helped me to the bathroom after placing my left ankle was in a kind of walking cast. I took her arm at the elbow and she led me to the shower, where we cleaned me up.
No sooner had I been led back to the bed, than knock came at the door. "PT department. Got a present for you!"
Her voice was very cheery, as if she were a letter carrier delivering the day's mail. I replied in kind, asking, "What have you got for me?"
"Hold out your hand."
I did and a folded cane was placed in it. I slipped the elastic cord off and extended it, then used it to define my space. With that done, I hobbled to the bathroom and back again. I heard, "Kinda hard to maintain a straight line with the walker boot."
"Somewhat. At least I don't need crutches, too."
"It can be done. I've seen blind people with a broken leg or two."
I asked, "Do you mean more than one blind person with a broken leg or a blind person with both legs broken?"
"Both."
I heard the smile that went with it. She stayed with me, helping me map the room, then we tackled the hallway to the solarium and back. "You have some interesting O&M skills. Did you ever take training?"
I explained my memory loss, adding that I hoped it was temporary.
"Not to worry, it comes back. Let's work on a few things while I'm here."
She proceeded to correct my form and teach me some things that I should have known. Once she left, occupational therapy came in and we covered blind hygiene 101. Once again, I had some skills, but not all of the ones I should have.
Had my training been interrupted by the attack? What was I doing in Dallas if I lived in Houston, which I'm pretty sure I did. All sorts of questions plagued me all afternoon. The biggest was Alice's last question and her pronouncement that I was not blind. What did that mean?
Alice didn't return, but sent word that she would see me in the morning. I was told that the police had found my hotel room and that my belongings were being brought to me - along with my purse and my driver's license. My driver's license?
Since walking about - albeit slowly and with some discomfort - had been authorized, I made the rounds between my room and the solarium several times. With dinner came a Brailled book from the hospital's meager library, but I lost myself in a Patricia Cornwell mystery. I had a hard night because I couldn't tell whether I was asleep or awake. From Potter's Field got read twice.
Breakfast came followed by morning ablutions, which I handled myself this time. When Alice arrived, I detected a sound that I hadn't noticed the first time. It was a tapping sound, very rhythmic. It was the sound I made on my trips down the hallway.
"Alice, are you blind?"
"Yes, I am. I was born with RP. I can see a little bit, like looking through a knot hole in a fence, but I can't read print anymore."
"Why didn't you tell me?'
"It didn't matter at first, and when it did matter, it was more important not to tell you."
"Why?"
"We'll come to that. With the help of my nurse, I've examined your belongings from the hotel - very instructive. I've talked with your employer, your landlord, and your friends. I have a very complete picture of you now. We can proceed with therapy, but we'll have to do it my way. When you answer questions, I need to know that you remember them, not remember having been told. If all goes well, you'll have your vision back before supper tonight."
I sat stunned. What had happened to me? The friendly Alice was gone, replaced by a very clinical, detached Dr. Peterson. Questions were sent my way in a what seemed to be a random order. I answered with more detail than yesterday, but there were still gaps. Hours passed and my bewilderment turned to a headache that got worse and worse. The answers I gave grew shorter. When lunch came, Alice told the nurse to take it back."
"Why?", I asked.
"Because it will interfere with the medication I need to give you."
"What kind of medication?"
"A hypnotic drug. I need to regress you back to the attack so it won't block your memory anymore. It should restore your vision as well."
"How?"
"I can't explain in advance. It needs to unfold in a certain order."
I hesitated. "Okay, go ahead."
A nurse came and did something with my IV. It didn't take long before I got floaty. I heard Alice's voice but not her words. I forgot my replies as soon as I gave them. I floated for a long time, then I drifted. No voices came, just a question, over and over.
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Are you a blind woman?
Over and over, that question. I can't remember answering, but I remember the question. Finally I stopped hearing it and drifted some more. Time passed and I became aware of someone's hand touching mine.
"Mel? Mel, can you hear me?"
"Cathy?"
My hand was squeezed. "I'm right here, Mel. I drove up last night. They told me about your eyes and the brain damage. Is there anything I can do?"
"Well, take me home, I guess - as soon as they release me. Beyond that, I guess I need to learn how to live all over."
"They said, you'd be free to go by noon. We can head back home then. Oh, God, I feel so bad. When they said you'd be blind for the rest of your life, I cried like a baby."
"I'm sure I'll be crying some, too."
"Well, you know you got a friend right next door. Anything you need, I'll be there."
I squeezed her hand back. Cathy and I had been through a lot in our lifetime: grade school, junior high, high school, college. There were very few things about me she didn't know. After Mom had died, she'd been all the family I'd had. Some spots were still fuzzy, especially coming to Dallas, but the rest was slowly falling into place.
I wondered how I would deal with being blind, but somehow, I knew I'd survive.
= = = = = = =
Excerpt from the files of Dr. Alice Peterson:
...subject Jordan had a fixation with blindness. She has spent considerable money acquiring things like a cane and Braille instruction books. Her fascination grew into a desire to simulate it in order to discover what it was like, using eye bandages and contact lenses that block vision. Simulation was repeated and became a form of addictive behavior. When home simulation nol onger satisfied her, subject began to "blindsim" in public places and interact with people who did not know her.
After seeing Dr. Phillip Morganti, a hypnotherapist in Houston who is well known for his lack of ethics, she received a code word trigger that would deprive her of the ability to process visual stimuli sent to the brain from the eyes, and a second word that would restore it. While spending a "blindsim" weekend in Dallas, subject Jordan was robbed and struck in the head, resulting a temporary amnesia.
Analysis under hypnotic regression showed a strong desire to remain blind and after a long discussion with the patient, she was left in that state, but without subsequent memory of the discussion. She was told (at her own request) that the blindness was permanent. I have left a code word trigger of my own that will allow me to do in-depth phone interviews every six months. If she changes her mind, we can reverse the blindness and fully restore her memory.
(dictated) Dr. Alice Peterson, MD, Phd
= = = = = = =
That was a year ago. I'm more functional now. I've adjusted to being blind and I'm fairly content with my life. My employer has "modified" my job and my duties so that, with some minor accommodations, I can go on working and not lose my salary and benefits.
I've learned to date and to trust. My first attempt at a long term relationship didn't last more than a month or so. I recently discovered that he was sexually attracted not to me, but to my being blind. After that, my coping skills need reinforcing. I guess I need to find a therapist down here. I tried contacting Dr. Peterson in Dallas, but I discovered that she'd been killed by a robber who targeted disabled people. The police caught him and it was discovered that he was a repeat offender. I wonder if he was the man who attacked me. Why did he kill her, dammit? She was such a sweet woman.
Weekends drag sometimes without TV to watch. Listening isn't quite the same. I'm volunteering down at the Lighthouse. I find that I have adapted quite well to life without vision, almost as if it were natural to me.
I always say, "Well, it's not as if I had a choice, now is it?"