The Blind Side

On this new road to better health, I often have to pull over and observe the world around me. It is the only way I can understand where I have been and where I need to go next. Sometimes it is easy to just cruise along and not see what is passing me by while drift off course. Usually when I do stop, I find some of the most amazing circumstances, that renew my faith in humanity and give me hope that I can over come the difficulties I face in my own life.
Read More...

I recently had the honor of witnessing an event that shed a massive shaft of light on the current struggles I've been having on my weight loss odyssey. While there are parts of this that are amusing, I want to make it clear that I am in no way making light of individuals with physical impairments. I grew up with a parent confined to a wheel chair. I have a deep respect for the challenges these people face daily and those that help them. I am sure that the experience I recently put myself through would be amusing to them as well. Let's face it, some of what happened was pretty damn funny. So...here goes.

The other day, while I was parked at a red light, I was struck with serious emotion as I observed a guide dog helping it's visually impaired owner with her daily errands. I was in awe at the faith this woman had in the animal, as well as the concern and devotion this caring canine had for it's owner. As the world buzzed busily by, unmoved by the scene, a tear ran from the corner of my eye as I watched this amazing animal skillfully guide it's master to safety across the busy intersection.

Throughout the day I replayed that exhibition of courage in my head and wondered what it would be like to walk the streets in darkness 24/7, 365 days a year. I'm sure that being blind from birth is slightly different from having to deal with the same impairment retroactively though.

I would think, that at birth your senses begin to adapt from day one, heightening the proficiency of the other four to compensate for the absence of the one. On the flip side of this miracle of adaptation, acclimating to this same situation after you have come to rely on your sight, would be a horrifically profound journey. One that would require the conquering of an entire mountain range of difficulty.

For the next few days I contemplated whether or not I would have the guts to learn how to survive in a world devoid of light if for some reason I was rendered sightless. Would i be able to relearn how to live my life in the face of this potentially debilitating situation? Would I be able to get back into the hustle and flow of life and show the world that I can't be held down?

One morning I decided to put those queries to the test and tried to get ready for work as If I was missing the gift of sight. Completely without preparation and totally on the spur of the moment. I figured it would be fairly easy. I live in a modest sized house and I had a pretty good mental map of the place. What could it hurt? If it went well, I thought, maybe I would even try it in the big bad world.

My alarm clock began to wail like an infant at feeding time and I slowly opened my eyes to start the day. At 5 am the world is already veiled in darkness. I laid in bed for a few minutes with my eyes open, the moonlight filtering in from our bedroom window, coated every surface with a pale glow. My eyes began to acclimate in the dimness, so with one motion I sat up in bed and closed them. I was determined to not puss out and keep them closed through the entire process. My wife continued to sleep, muttering some carnal phrase about Robert Downey Jr. as she fought the need to wake up and turn off the nemisis of slumber now screaming in her ear.

As she struggled with her own motivation, I got to the business of getting ready in a way I had never attempted to in my 38 years on this planet. Blindly. I was pretty confident this wouldn't be a big deal. Finally my brain told my body to move and as I sat up, under my breath I mumbled, "Well...Here goes nothing," setting out to gain a whole new perspective and walk in someone else's shoes for a while.

With my eyes shut tight, I started to make my way out of the bedroom and into the hall. Now...before I go on, I need to establish the fact that we are currently in the process of packing to move. Our house is a bona fide disaster area. I almost feel like I am in an episode of Hoarders, minus the vile, filthy, gag me with a pitchfork, part of it. There is stuff everywhere, with pathways cut through the boxes and clutter to the important parts of the house. It has been like this for a while, so I felt pretty confident I could navigate them in darkness. I was sorely mistaken, with an emphasis on sorely.

I got out of the room Ok, but only because we had cleaned and organized it a few nights before. It really was the only reason I was able to finish this task with any kind of speed and with out any major wardrobe issues. But I'll get to that later.

Stepping out into the hall, I could feel the blast of heat from the wall heater that told me I needed to go left to get to the bathroom. I remembered from the night before, that we had managed to get the hall cleared of clutter. So I pushed onward with confidence that my trip to begin my hygiene ritual would be unhindered. Little did I know, that my son decided to put his very heavy, 1965 Fender Twin Reverb amplifier against the south wall. This thing is a beast of an amp. There may as well have been and anvil in the way. I am sure you can guess what happened next. My cockiness at how easy this was gonna be soon gave way to an intense shooting pain beginning at my big tow and ending in my neither regions!

I bit my lip to squelch the river of profanity that was coursing through my agony addled brain. As I cursed the day he was born, I managed to recover and finish the 5 steps needed to make it to the bathroom. The next task on my list, was to relieve my self of the half gallon of water I managed to drink just before bed. What was I thinking drinking that much water before bed?! The urgency with which I needed to relieve myself of the excess liquid, seemed to intensify with the pain emanating from my injured little piggy. So I got down to business as quickly as I could.

Eyes still closed and the lights off for good measure, without even thinking, I raised the toilet seat and let it fly. The absence of that familiar liquid hitting liquid sound gave way to sheer panic. Without even the slightest hint of light reflecting on the surfaces in the bathroom, it is nearly impossible to keep your aim true. As a result, I instead felt a familiar warmth as the second hand stream of water splashed all over my shins and feet. Great for curing my athletes foot but not so great for keeping the bathroom from smelling like a bus station. I groaned at the thought of having to clean that up later when the experiment was over.

I managed to get it on course and finished the process, all the while making a mental note that if I ever tried this again I should probably sit down. Lesson learned for sure. Now it was time to move on to the shower. There wasn't much that could go wrong here. Right? I pulled the shower curtain at the front of the shower back and began to twist the valves that would soon deliver a soothing cascade of warm morning happiness. It couldn't have come at a better time. My recent misfire mishap was beginning to run down my shin and I was eager to wash the poor marksmanship off my body.

As the shower began to spit warm water like a jet against the back wall of the shower, I began to feel the same sensation of warm liquid on my back, the same thing I had just felt on my shin. I reached back to see what was wrong and found the shower curtain was open. That would be the second wet mess I would have to clean up. This process of discovery was getting messier and more problematic by the minute! Based on what had just happened, I got smart and started to feel my way around the tub to see what obstacles were in my way. Aside from the myriad of hair care products that my family uses, the coast seemed clear. Once again, my pedal region would take a vicious hit and I would be in pain once again.

After sweeping the area for potential land mines, I proceeded to get into the shower. At this point I wish that I had been more thorough in my investigation and stopped to feel what was at the bottom of the tub. As I stepped heavily down, my foot caught the edge of my wife's razor that was sitting at the bottom of the shower. In my haste to prevent flooding the bathroom, I had inadvertently knocked it from it's perch on the side of the tub as I was clamoring to close the shower curtain.

Once again the pain was excruciating, but I managed to keep my eyes closed regardless. I was bound and determined not to back out on this insanity. I pushed forward and managed to make it through the rest of the shower without incident. I could feel my foot bleeding and knew I would need to deal with that soon, but I would wait until I finished getting my clothes on.

The shower was over and as i dried off I applied some pressure to the throbbing area of my foot and felt the pain subside. Hobbling back down the hall to the bedroom, I remembered the gift my son left for me in the hall and walked to the opposite side, my hand reading the texture on the wall as if it were brail graffiti, as I searched for the door to my next undertaking.

My wife was up and about by now and she blew past me in zombie like fashion, still half asleep. The pain from my recent ordeal made me totally space about the puddle I had left on the floor in front of the toilet like a gift at Christmas under a glittering tree. I didn't remember until I heard an angry shriek from my wife as she stepped into the puddle I had left behind, in her socks no less. But I couldn't concern myself with the wrath I was about to face. I still had my own trials with getting dressed, so I figured I would beg forgiveness later and get on with it.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a good thing for me that we had organized our room and put away our clothes in nice orderly piles. Our room is just big enough to fit a queen sized bed and a bookcase with a couple of night stands. We keep all our clothes in a very small closet. My wardrobe was definitely lighter after my excavation of tubbiness (so it works for now), but my socks and underwear are just sitting on the top shelf while the rest of my meager selection of threads are on hangers.

The underwear selection process was pretty straight forward. It didn't really matter which ones I chose, as long as the fly was to the front, I was good. My wife beater was the same all though the new trend of "tagless" garments made putting it on problematic. The situation was quickly under control and I moved on to the outer vestments.

My wardrobe is mostly made up of somber slimming colors and I really only have two pairs of pants to choose from. Anyone of my shirts would go well with my lower half no matter what I chose, so that part was fine. Eyes still closed, I felt my way through the designs on the fronts of my t-shirts and picked a shirt from a local comic book store that I had designed a logo for. I could tell by the amount and shape of the paint I could feel on the front, along with the two sentences of ink on the back that read "Comic Book Collectors Have Issues."

I grabbed some socks from the shelf and since we are not in the habit of pairing them together, I had to go by feel. By this time my wife had lapped me in the race to get dressed and out the door, so I finally had to open my eyes so we could get the rest of our things and get out the door and on the road.

As we drove to work, my mind went over my new found appreciation for what the pedestrian and her companion must have to go through on a daily. Sure, If I was actually blind, my home and my routine would be set up to accommodate my needs. My family would know not to move things around and would be more conscious of the situation in general. It's easy to do that with your own personal space. It was the thought of trying to navigate my way through the great wide open that sent a shiver down my spine. That would definitely have to wait for another time when I was a bit more endowed with the cojones to take on a challenge of that magnitude. For now my escapades in the house would have to suffice.

As I pulled up to work, the weight of what I had put myself through that morning hit me like a ton of bricks. Those of us who are concerned about our health, face an unforgiving world that could care less about what we can and can't eat. We are out there just trying to get from one meal to the next without out a major dietary disaster. At home it's a lot easier to deal with. When we are out and about, it helps to have a guide by arming ourselves with the tools, knowledge and support we need to make it on our own. This is what helps us to live as normal of a life as possible, beyond our own front door.

I will say, the next time I think for one second I won't be able to do something because of this excuse or that excuse, I will remember that morning. I will remember that woman and her lupine friend and know that the challenges I face everyday could always be a very different cross to bear.

Oh yeah. The cut on my foot? Well I had forgotten about it until I had settled into work and my day got underway. I felt a throbbing pain at the site of the wound and decided I should at least look at it and make sure it wasn't infected. As I reached down to pull my shoes off wouldn't you know it...I had on two different colored socks.