I've been blind since birth thanks to the stunted growth of neurons in my retinas. Modern medicine, however, has pulled through; today I'll become on of the first to try an approved therapy to stimulate cell growth. Simply put, I'll see the world with new eyes.
"When it comes down to it, you're pretty much the perfect candidate for this, Sid," the optometrist said when I came in for the outpatient procedure. "All signs point to your recovering without complications."
I smiled. This felt meant to be.
"You know, Sid, are you sure you're ready to see what the world has to offer?"
"Without a doubt."
~~~
Green. That's my favorite.
It's been a week since the procedure, and while everything remains an amorphous blur, I know what color is. They started out dull but then bled into my vision like the crescendo of a string orchestra. Color is the timbre of the visual. Yellow whistles like a piccolo. Red softly barks like the French horn. But green is different. It's lush. It's voice is one of a cello. What a gift it is to be able to hear colors as I learn how to see.
~~~
"Sharper" is how the doctor has described the change in my sight. That's certainly how it feels. It's almost painful. Two weeks after my treatment leaves me with the ability to distinguish shape and form, but it's not easy on the eyes. Everything looks the way sand feels. Gritty and abrasive. I tend to rub my eyes attempting to brush off the rough texture that coats everything I see to no avail. It's hard to describe how distressing it is when the smooth, flawless keys on my piano look as if they would rub my fingers raw if I were to play. I hate the incongruence.
~~~
A window of clarity open in the center of my vision yesterday, so I decided to open a book and see written language for the first time. Words are ugly. They don't do justice for the auditory beauty of language. Dead black ink on glaringly white paper. I try to avoid focusing on any certain object. The grittiness that permeated my vision two weeks ago has been replaced with a overwhelming blandness. Saltine crackers come to mind. I miss the mystery of when I only saw the world in color and not in form.
-1.jpg) |
| The disappointment of seeking words for the first time (Edited). Wikipedia Commons. |
I see the wrinkles that cleave across my forehead. In incredible detail, I see how age has molded my face as I look in the bathroom mirror. Twenty years of vision has made me grown tired of the world. When I was blind, my imagination created what things looked like. They were my thoughts, my ideas. Vision has robbed me of that ownership. I'm only an observer now, not a creator. My favorite part of the day is the bittersweet moment before I fall asleep.
Sweet because I'll dream with closed eyes. Bitter because I know I'll wake up.
Author's Note: I used both the The First Encounter and Two More Encounters stories from the Buddha unit to create an representation of what it was like for Siddhartha to realize the presence of old age and death in the world. Since I plan to become a physician, I thought I'd create an analogy between gaining one's sight for the first time and losing one's naiveté. In the story, I put myself in Siddhartha's position and describe how I lose touch with joy and beauty. I really tried to capture the change in attitude that Siddhartha demonstrates in the two aforementioned stories.
Bibliography
The Life of Buddha
Andre Ferdinand Herold
1922
This was a great story, Jake! I loved the way you weaved together sound and sight, as though colors made their own music. I often wonder whether or not a blind person would want sight. If you become so accustomed to a blind existence, creating images in your head, it might be a massive disappointment when it does not appear as you imagined it to be. It would be quite an adjustment.
ReplyDeleteJust a little side note here...Did you know that infant's hearing bleeds over into their eyesight? So when there is a loud noise, it not only startles the infant, but also creates ripples in their eyesight, like when you drop a pebble into water. Researchers believe that the fact that it bleeds over is one of the reasons infants cry at the occurrence of jarring, loud, surprising noises.
Great storytelling, Jake. I liked it a lot!!
Hello Jake, I thought that your story was really cool. I like how Sid is eager to see after being born blind and never having the opportunity to ever see. To anyone, that would be the best day in his or her life. You explained that in the years after Sid’s surgery he regretted ever having vision. It was like a bittersweet nightmare because he lost his creativity. I also enjoyed how you advanced forward into time at different places of the story.
DeleteOnce again your talent for writing really shines through in this story, Jake. Your story presents blindness in a completely different light, and the way you parallel the loss of sight with the loss of innocence is brilliant. Even without the thought-provoking theme, this story is a joy to read just because of your characteristically poignant and clever prose. Describing one sense in terms of another is not an easy task, but you handle it with ease. I particularly liked the description of the narrator’s experience of seeing everything in the world as “gritty and abrasive.” I loved the line, “It’s hard to describe how distressing it is when the smooth, flawless keys on my piano look as if they would rub my fingers raw if I were to play.” Great writing!
ReplyDeleteWhat a poignant analysis of the senses, Jake! I have always been interested in the subjectivity of perception myself, and this was a meticulous account of what it might be like to experience a sense for the first time. I love how you incorporated Sid's blissful synaesthetic experiences at first--as his sight is developing, everything is soft and muted and pleasant, but as time goes on, the lines become harsher and more distinct. This is, as always, a very well-written and provocative allegory for the loss of innocence.
ReplyDelete