Dominic Brown is a man who's had a pretty good life until a year ago. A year ago when his life had change from being a loving husband and father to that man that was charged with murdering his wife and cause the freak accident that killed his daugh...
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DOMINIC
The next couple of days I didnt wanna be bother with anyone. I had the nurse call and tell them all to leave me alone for awhile and they did. I was able to get out of bed and sit in the chair near the window. Even tho I couldnt see anything I was still sitting there.
I ignored the nurses when they came in here to check on me. When they brought me my breakfast, Lunch and Dinner. Normally I talk to them or mess with them but the last 4 days I didn't. I been keeping my mouth shut to them. They would talk to me but I wouldnt speak back, I got up a few times feeling around the room and I would yell and curse when I hit something or knocked something over.
The nurse would come running in and help me back to either the bed or to my chair and she would tell me it was okay. That she knew I was getting tired in that one spot. I spoke with the door about a few things and he wasn't sure my sight was going to come back and that I had to start thinking of other things.
He kept telling me that I should use the text-to-speech software on my computer. I told him no that I didnt wanna use that, cause I would with my hands but he still insisted that it was the best course. I ignored him and learned Braille. Right now I'm about 60 to 70 percent of my old reading speed, and I'm pretty fucking proud of myself.
I had one of the nurses go out and get me one. While I taught myself to read using my fingers, I was thinking as well. I was thinking alot about my life and shit what if I never get to see my family again. I mean look at them, what if I never get to see my baby's face.
The most destructive part of losing my sight is the feeling of incompetence. I'm the kind of person who hates feeling inept. I like doing things well; to a certain degree, I've done many things well. At times, I feel like a failure at adapting. When I misplace something for the umpteenth time, I find myself berating myself for not being better at being blind. My self-consciousness about the white cane I will surly be using is waning. I've even started dreaming of myself as I am: an awkward, clumsy blind person.
My thoughts been really everywhere but at night I would cry and wonder why. I hope and pray. I wish it would all go away that I would wake up and see again.
When part of your body starts to die, you feel what it is to be human. I wake up from sleep of being just another idiot with an iPod because I am forced to work out the bigger questions. Or at least ask them.
Why am I here? Why is this happening? I am alert to the immediacy and fragility of my life. I know that the choices of the modern age do not and can not extend into every realm of my life. I can't choose to see at least not yet. This is it. The upshot? I live in the moment. I settle for my worth at face value and loved it.
The concept of sight loss as a positive thing is an elusive one. It is hard to grasp when you have experienced it, and even harder to grasp when you haven't. It is not something I would have chosen, but it is not something I wish hadn't happened.
