by Emma
Instead, I rang my brother, and all I kept saying was, 'I
can see, it's so marvellous, the colours are fabulous, and I
never knew the world was so brilliant,' and then I rang
practically every number I could think of, pouring coins into
the box, and saying the same message. No one at the other
end had much of a chance to say anything back, but I knew
they were thrilled for me. I spentjust over a pound in calls.
It was not until nearly midday that I heard from Don. He
had received my message. He told me that he had been to see
a patient, and got back to the car where Emma was sitting
in the passenger seat waiting for him, and the call light of his
radio telephone had come on. I suppose when he saw it he
was nervous about answering, because he had been waiting
all morning for a message; he sat there for a minute not daring
to brace himself to the news, whether it would be infinitely
good or heartbreakingly bad. He told me that when he did
pick up the telephone and the message came through, he just
had no reply. He sat in the driving seat unable to grasp the
sheer wonder of the moment, and finally put his arms round
Emma, and said, 'Emma, you'll never have to work again.'
Later, when he came to see me that evening, we did not
speak much at first. Neither of us could appreciate fully what
had happened. We are so close, Don and I, that it was some
time before we needed to put into words all the possibilities
that were expanding in our minds, like a world suddenly
THE BANDAGES COME OFF
I59
starting to form, whirling round, taking shape, and getting
bigger and bigger all the time.
Eventually all his sentences were beginning: 'When you
come home . . .'And each time there was something new he
was going to show me. We sat and talked and planned there
in the ward. He told me the leaves were turning from gold
to red, and it meant something to me for the first time. He
had built a new stone fireplace, and could not wait to show it
to me. We would go on holiday ... life began to unfold in
prospect, and now, instead of being bounded by the limits of
my pool of blackness, it stretched on and out, full of light.
When Don had phoned earlier in the day, the nurses had
been bringing the midday meal round. But I was too excited
to eat. I kept thinking, 'If those colours were so beautiful,
what about the rest, what about everything else?' The colours
were still dancing and whirling about in my mind behind the
bandages, changing pattern as in a child's kaleidoscope, and
exploding like fireworks. What was it like outside ? I wanted to
tear the bandages off and rush to the window and see
everything.
I also wanted Mr Shearing to come in. I kept thinking of
his words, 'I don't work miracles, lassie.' But he had, and I
wanted him to share all my feelings, and know how I thought
about him, and everything else. I kept asking Sister, 'When
will Mr Shearing be coming?' I knew he had not been able to
be in the dressing-room that morning because he had been
operating. 'Oh, he'll be in as soon as he can,' she would reply.
'He's still in the operating theatre.' I sat there for most of that
Monday afternoon, thinking, 'I do wish he would hurry up;
I can't wait to tell him how marvellous it is,' and I kept
wondering if he knew that the operation had worked beyond
our wildest dreams.
Then, about four o'clock, I suddenly sensed a familiar smell
in the distance. It was the faint aroma of cigar smoke. Mr
Shearing! He was probably in with Sister, discussing what
had gone on. Sure enough, I presently heard his familiar
footsteps approaching along the ward, and I sat up. When the
I
i
i
I6o EMMA AND I
I
footsteps stopped, and I heard the voice say, 'Hello, lassie,
how are you?' all my words suddenly tumbled out and
rushed away with me in a great flood of emotion. 'Oh, it's so
fantastic, it's wonderful, it's fabulous, oh, I can't tell you, it's
marvellous . . .' But his only comment was, 'Yes, isn't it
marvellous Nottingham Forest won on Saturday.'
I was flabbergasted. I could hardly believe my ears. I
said, 'Notts Forest? I don't care about Notts Forest. I can see,
that's the marvellous thing.' He patted me awkwardly on the
shoulder, and left. A minute or two later, Muriel came up, and
said, 'I wish you could have seen his face. It looked as if it
had been lit up. He just stood there, smiling at you.' And I
realized that he had been at a loss for words. Gentle and
humane person that he is, all the business about Nottingham
Forest had just been a side-step round something he was too
moved to express.
So I was able to appreciate a little of his reaction, but it was
not until I went back to the hospital a year later that I learned
the full story of how Mr Shearing had really felt. At the
hospital one of the other patients recognized me, and, by
chance, her father had been in at the same time as I had
originally, but in the men's ward upstairs. She told me, 'After
Mr Shearing had been to see you, he went up to the men's
ward, and went round telling everybody you could see, and
how wonderful you thought it was, and how it really made
him think that everything was worth while.' I then remembered
sitting talking to him when he was telling me about the
failures he had had in operations, and how terrible it was,
and sad, that he had proved unable to do anything for these
patients. I remember saying, 'But the successes must be worth
everything.' He had agreed they were, and now I felt how
tremendous it was that he had gone up to that ward and told
everyone about it. He must have-or I certainly hope he must
have-felt the immense joy of giving so much.
After Mr Shearing had gone, I waited for visiting time, and
I was inundated with callers. Apart from Don, who had
called every day, and my mother and father and Graham,
THE BANDAGES COME OFF
I6I
none of my friends had been in up to then. But that evening
I had about ten visitors all told. To every one of them I went
on and on about what had happened during that two minutes
in the dressing-room. They just about got 'Hello' and 'Good
bye' in and handed me their presents of chocolates and
flowers.
From that day, for the rest of the time in hospital, the
bandages were taken offeach morning for a couple of n-iinutes,
drops were put in my eyes, and clean bandages were put back.
Apart from those two lucid, incandescent minutes, I inhabited
my old world. But, increasingly, it became less and less like
that familiar, enclosed world as I began to know more and
more of what lay beyond. I was able to plan what I would
look at each day during the brief seeing interval. I knew I
would be struck each time by the blues and greens of uniforms,
but I tried to consider what else I could take in quickly. All
the same, every morning when the moment arrived for me to
go to the dressing-room, I had a fficker of doubt as I walked up
the ward. I always thought, 'Will it be as bright again, will
it be as beautiful?' Each morning it was, and the anxieties
faded from my mind.
It was difficult to choose what to look at. One morning I
took the bowl of dahlias in, the ones I had felt nothing for
when they arrived. I also thought, 'I must remember to have
a look at the colours of my dressing gown and my nightie.'
Which might sound trivial, but it was important for me then.
I wanted to know what I was wearing, and how I appeared.
When I went down to the dressing-room that morning I
heard Sister say to me breezily, 'Whatever have you brought
your flowers, for, Sheila?' When I told her, she laughed, but
it was good-natured laughter. When the bandages were
removed, and I had got over the renewed shock of brilliance,
I looked down at my dahlias and saw that they were a
gorgeous yellow that I had never imagined, and that they
seemed so intricately made. I was so fascinated by their every
detail, and so remorseful that I had felt nothing for them,
that I forgot to notice what I was wearing.
F
I62 EMMA AND I THE BANDAGES COME OFF I63
The following morning I did remember: my dressinggown
was a wonderful turquoise, and my nightie purple. The
combination sounds dreadful, but that did not occur to me
at the time, particularly because on this occasion I had something
of a shock. As I was looking down, I caught sight of my
hands. I was appalled. They looked awful. I could not keep
my eyes off them. I said to one of the nurses, 'Annette, look
at my hands. Aren't they terrible?'
She came over, looked at them quite closely, and then said,
'What's terrible about them?'
'Well, look at them, look at the veins, and the knuckles.
The bones stick out. Don't they look awful?'
'But they're perfectly normal.'
'They can't be.'
'But they are. Look at mine. Your hands are like everybody
else's.'
So I looked at her hands, and saw the veins standing out,
and said, 'Gosh, aren't they horrible things?' I always
expected from the way that hands felt that they would look
smooth and nice. I was really quite upset, and disillusioned.
When Don came in that evening, I said to him, 'Look at
my hands.'
'Yes. Well, they're all right. What's the matter?'
'But they're horrible.'
'No, they're not. They're beautiful hands.'
'But look at the veins standing out, and the knuckles.
They're dreadful.'
'Of course they're not. Wait till you've seen mine. You'll
see the veins and everything. Everybody's hands are like
that.'
I really could not accept that my hands were at all like
anyone else's. I went round for the next day or so, and until
I got used to the idea, tucking them out of sight in my dressing
gown sleeves.
The following day Mr Shearing came in again. He said
that if I wanted I could go home the following day. It was like
being given the order for release and pardon at last for a crime
I
you have never committed. I rang Don immediately, I was
so excited. That night was another sleepless one, waiting for
Friday, the day when I would see the outside world for the
first time, and really start fny new life.
AT FIRST SIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AT FIRST SIGHT
D 0 N W A S D U E to pick me up at half-past twelve. All week
he had been joking about having his hair dyed from grey to
a different colour, and saying, 'It's all right for you, you know.
I've seen you. I knew what you looked like to start with. But
you've never seen me. You could be in for a shock.' I said,
'Whatever you look like, it won't make any difference.' It
had never before crossed my mind to wonder what I might
think of people's looks. I had no preconceived notion, in any
exact sense, about how they might appear. Still further from
my mind was the notion that from now on I would look at
people, and what I saw would help to form my judgement of
them, for better or worse, accurately or inaccurately, like the
rest of the sighted world I was joining. It was a strange
feeling.
I waited, wearing dark glasses which I had been given that
morning. My eyes were still not accustomed to the general
brilliance, and so had to be shaded for the time being. I
walked up and down the ward, and still marvelled at the
colours, dimmed as they were by the glasses. Even the very
whiteness of the sheets and pillow-cases on the beds impressed
me. I looked at the bowls of flowers on the locker-tops and
thought to myself, 'I don't believe in evolution. Those flowers
were always like that, perfect in every detail, but waiting for
me to see them, specially made for me.' It was irrational, but
that was the way I felt.
I65
I sat by my bed, my cases packed, wondering what Don
looked like-trying to imagine his face from the ideas I had
received over the years. But it was no good. Then I heard the
ward door open-it had a characteristic squeak-and heard
Don's footsteps coming down the ward. I thought, 'Oh God,
this is him. This is the moment', and I looked up. I saw a
stranger coming towards me, and did not for an instant
connect him with Don. I thought fleetingly, 'Brown, suntanned,
handsome', and then,'It's Don!' I could not grasp the
idea properly, though. He was so much more distinguishedlooking,
and so very much more handsome than I could
possibly have imagined. In one glance I took in his navy
blue suit, very smart, and his tie that had little pink and yellow
flowers on a blue background, and at the same time I was
struck with the idea of how lucky I was to have a husband
whom I not only loved already for everything I had not been
able to see, but with whom I instantly fell in love all over
again for his appearance.
He came up to me, and said, smiling, 'Hello, Petal.' My
face told him, I am sure, all he needed to know about my
reactions to his looks. I was grinning from ear to car as I said,
'Hello.'
He picked up my cases and said, 'Well, come on then,
come and have a look at the outside world. Emma's waiting
in the car.' And I thought, 'Emma, dear Emma. I shall be
seeing her for the first time as well. What a day!' I could not
get out of the ward fast enough, with everyone waving and
wishing me good luck. We went arm in arm through the
doors and I said goodbye to Sister and the nurses. Then,
when we reached the outer doors, it was like that first electric
shock of sight all over again.
The sunshine burst in on me, and once more it was as I
imagined the birth of the world. Of course I knew that it had
been like t
his for millions and millions of years, or so my
rational mind told me, but I still felt it was the entire Creation,
suddenly laid on for my personal benefit. In the same thought
was contained the idea that I was seeing for the first time
I66 EMMA AND I
something which everyone else was used to and took for
granted, and its impression on me was unique.
Beyond the sunshine and immediate glaring radiance, I saw
a great expanse of green.
'What's that?'
'Why, it's grass, of course.'
Grass? Ofcourse. It had to be. Something I had felt through
the soles of my shoes. 'But it's so green. I can't believe it.
Is it always like this?'
Don said it was, but I had to kneel down and touch it to
make sure it was what I had felt before, and it was.
'But it's all different shades, all different greens. Look at
those patches. Even the separate blades seem to differ in
colour.'
'Yes. It's always like that.'
'It's so marvellous, so beautiful.'
We went over towards the car, and Don went a bit ahead
to let Emma out. The next thing I knew, she came bounding
out of the car, and I could see the sun shining and glinting on
her coat as she bounced up to me. I put my arms round her,
and saw her tail going, making her whole body move, and her
ears flapping. I cried, 'Oh, Don, isn't she beautiful.' People
had told me she was brown, chocolate brown they had said,
and that was the main impression I'd had of her appearance.
I had also been told that she had a white patch on her chest,
and her nose and eyes were brown, but none of it had really
meant much to me. But now I could see her! No one had ever
described her properly.
Her ears were a gingery colour. As the sun shone on them
they were turned to a pale ginger. Her lovely brown nose
glistened. There was a gingery part along her nose towards
her eyes, and the auburn along her back was rich and deep;
it shaded off down her legs and along her flanks into a soft
brown. I have no way of describing the effect she had on me
except to say she was more gorgeous than I could ever have
imagined in a thousand years. I said, 'Oh, Emma, you're so
beautiful! Nobody ever told me. Everybody said you ~vere