Who Do I Lean On?
Page 32
One Web site said everyone has two blind spots, one in each eye, but they were over to the side and corresponded to where the optic nerve connects to the eye. There was even an on-screen demonstration: “Close one eye and position your face close to the screen while focusing on the large ‘x.’ Then move your head slowly back away from the screen.” When Harry tried it, the three large letters a few inches to the side disappeared and reappeared, one after the other as his natural blind spot passed over them. Why haven’t I noticed that before? he thought. “Because the other eye compensates and fills in the missing image,” the Web page explained.
Cool, an interesting distraction . . . but it didn’t account for the blind spot right in the center of his vision. He tried another Web site . . . and another . . . and another. Just as he feared, several mentioned the possibility of a brain tumor as the cause of a blind spot. And he couldn’t find anything to rule it out in his case.
By the time he finally shut down the computer at one o’clock in the morning, his mind was spinning with other scary possibilities: a detached retina . . . macular degeneration . . . diabetes . . . a stroke. On the other hand, he found a few less frightening causes of temporary visual problems . . . stuff like migraine headaches or excessive fatigue and certain medications.
As he finally crawled between the sheets, he tried to relax. Maybe he was getting worked up over nothing. In fact, he’d probably feel better after a good night’s sleep. Maybe something blew into his eye and scratched it without him noticing it. It had to be something like that . . . didn’t it?
But sleep wouldn’t come. Please, God. I don’t want to lose my sight. How would I take care of DaShawn? Didn’t You give him to me? And Estelle . . . don’t You know we’ve got a good thing going? I couldn’t saddle her with me as an invalid. In fact, God, I don’t think I could stand myself as an invalid. I’m too old to learn Braille. I couldn’t adjust, not at this age.
His heart pounded as he stared up into the gloom of his bedroom.
If it were a tumor, what other havoc would it wreck inside his skull before it killed him? How long would it take? Would he suffer? Would the doctors shoot him so full of morphine he’d be a zombie by the time he died? In his mind, he already had himself in the hospital, pin-cushioned with tubes and monitors. Huh! At least they won’t have to shave my head before operating!
But who would care for his elderly mother? He couldn’t leave that responsibility to Estelle. In fact, he probably ought to break off his relationship with her completely. He couldn’t entangle her in something like this. She already had enough problems, like that schizophrenic son of hers. She deserved a life of her own, not the burden of looking after a blind man. He couldn’t do that to her.
Harry turned over on his side and stared at the window, covered by venetian blinds. Fine strips of light from the city glow outside shone between each blind. He closed his right eye. At the point of focus for his left, the otherwise straight lines of light detoured around his blind spot like water flowing around a rock sticking out of a river. Yeah, now he was calling it his “blind spot,” not just blurry vision. He squinted, trying to evaluate what he could see. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it’d been earlier that day. He was tempted to sit up, turn on the light, and see what happened if he tried to read words from a book. Would the “missing” letters have returned? Maybe there’d be only a slight fuzziness. Maybe he was getting better.
But Harry resisted with all his will power.
Checking on it wouldn’t change a thing. He needed sleep.
“O, God,” he groaned, “help me! Help me calm down and just go to sleep. Please!”
Order the Yada Yada Brothers novels directly from Dave and Neta Jackson at www.daveneta.com, find them on Amazon, or ask your local bookstore for …
Book #1, Harry Bentley’s Second Chance
(ISBN: 978-0-9820544-0-6)
Book #2, Harry Bentley’s Second Sight
(ISBN: 978-0-9820544-2-0)
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