What Remains Unseen

Helen stumbled into the hallway, knocking over the tall decorative table that served no purpose but to, “look pretty.” A purchase her mother had made, in an attempt to dress up Helen’s house. A lot of good that did her now. She didn’t bother to pick it up. The stumbling continued down the hall. Helen, with one hand stretched out in front of her, the other pressed against the wall, traversed the distance to the living room carefully, her fuzzy slippers shuffling along the hardwood floor. It’s no more than 20 steps. She always joked that her house was small enough to find anything in the dark. Now was her chance to find out if that was true.

When she made it to the living room - her foot nudging the transition from hardwood to carpet - Helen realized she could see daylight. Maybe “see” was too simple of a word. She could feel that the room was lighter than the darkness of the hall and this gave her hope that perhaps what she feared had happened, was not, in fact, reality.

After Helen left her job three years ago, she left behind all the perks and benefits of corporate life. That included insurance. For the most part, she didn’t miss it. Helen was hardly ever sick. And never sick enough to need a doctor. Besides, her mother had half a pharmacy in her kitchen cabinet. If Helen were in dire straights, her mother could likely save her with anything from narcotics to antibiotics and everything in between. But, what her mother didn’t have in that cabinet of hers was prescription glasses. 

Helen hadn’t thought it that big of a deal three years ago. She had just gotten new glasses about six months before she decided to leave her job. And it had been six years before that when she’d gotten her last pair. But over the last year or so, Helen had noticed her vision was changing. Getting worse. She was squinting to read her library books. Her husband commented more than once on the “nasty glare” she was giving the TV while trying to watch it. And, lest we forget the time she brought the neighbor’s cat into her mother’s house, thinking it was Sassafras, her mother’s 13-year-old Calico. Luckily, the neighbor called off the “catnapping” charge he threatened to make to the police, when Helen’s husband, Allen, offered the neighbor a beer.

What had started a year ago as some things being blurry rapidly turned, over the last two months, into Helen having trouble making out anything she was reading. She didn’t dare tell Allen that she was struggling to see what was on the road in front of her anymore. He would take her keys. And she didn’t want that. She was not an invalid. For goodness sake, she was only 40.

She should have known something was wrong when she went to bed last night. Normally, the little green light from the modem that lived on her side of the room would drive her crazy. Helen would often fall asleep with the comforter pulled over her head, tucked strategically to allow a breathing hole around her nose and mouth. But last night, she’d fallen straight to sleep. The glowing green light hadn’t bothered her a bit. And that was bothering her right now.

Because this morning, when Helen opened her eyes, it was as if she hadn’t. She couldn’t see anything. It was dark. Way too dark. 

“Allen?” she called now from the living room, hoping he’d not have left for work yet. She had no idea what time it was. But, she could sense the light in the room, so it had to be daytime. This couldn’t be a dream. Her reality, she feared, was she’d gone blind.

“Allen?” she called again, a bit more desperately this time. She took another hesitant step forward into the living room and then stopped. What was her plan? She had made it to the living room. Now what? What had she expected would happen when she got here? That she would suddenly be able to see again? That somehow blindness was contained to her bedroom and the hallway? She slumped to the floor. Perhaps crawling was a better option, anyway. It had to be safer. Having left the safety of the wall in the hallway and entered the new world of the living room, she would have nothing to guide her now. 

Helen sat there for a few moments, her fingers absently running over the carpet fibers. The carpet was going to have to be pulled up. She and Allen had discussed that, after losing their dog recently. The dog, Antigone, had been 18-years-old when they finally put her down. She’d struggled to stand on her own four legs, let alone “hold it” until she could make it outside. Thinking of replacing the carpeting had lit a bulb in Helen’s mind. She knew she’d eventually have to Google flooring options. Google could help her right now!

“Okay, Google.” Helen said, hoping her phone was somewhere within earshot. She didn’t trust that whole Alexa thing after her friend’s son had complained of waking up to Alexa laughing in the middle of the night. Creepy. But, for some reason, Google seemed okay. 

“Okay, Google. What would I do if I was suddenly blind?” Helen asked loud and clear.

“I found this on the web,” replied Google in her robotic female voice.

Helen waited. No further explanation, which means, the answer is on the screen, waiting to be read. That doesn’t help. 

“Okay, Google. I can’t see. What’s wrong with me?” 

“Here are the top search results,” Google replied, again with the completely-unhelpful-in-this-situation on-screen results.

Helen sat there, thinking of how else to word her query. What do you ask to get an answer back aloud?

“Why can’t I see anything?”

“It’s a little hard to see in here but the acoustics are fantastic!” Cheery Google lady responded, almost like she was mocking Helen.

“Are you kidding me?!” 

No answer from Google on that one.

Fine. Google couldn’t give her answers that she could hear. But, a doctor could. 

“Okay, Google. Find an urgent care clinic near me.” 

“There are a few urgent care clinics near you. Which one would you like?” Again with the on screen business.

Fine, Helen thought. So much for being able to help herself.

“Okay, Google. Call Allen.”

The phone began dialing and then ringing. Helen was afraid it was going to go to voicemail. She was unsure of what she would even say.

“Hey, babe. Sounds like someone slept in this morning,” Allen teased.

“Allen. I have a problem. I need you to come home.” Helen said, cutting off his playful banter.

“What’s wrong?” Allen asked, sensing the alarm in her voice.

“I can’t see.”

Allen laughed. “We’ve been married for how long and you’re just figuring that out? I gotta work today, but maybe we can make an appointment for later in the week when we have some extra cash on hand. Call around a few places and see how much it’s going to cost for an eye exam. Oh man, and then frames. Last time I bought a pair it was almost $700. You know, a friend said he used an online pl….”

“I. CAN’T. SEE!” Helen interrupted, as she shouted into the phone, wherever the phone was.

“Oh my gosh. You mean, at all?”

“It’s totally dark, Allen. Well, I can kind of make out light outside.”

“Outside?! Don’t even think of going outside! You could fall or wind up in the street. Just, just hold on. I’ll be right there. Where are you right now?” Allen asked, in a frenzy.

“I’m sitting on the carpet. And don’t worry, I don’t have anywhere to go. Where would I go?” Helen asked, then slumped down onto the carpet, ignoring the faint urine smell that was weeks old by now. 

She laid in that exact spot waiting for Allen to come home. Waiting for him to rescue her from the smelly carpet and from the helplessness growing inside of her. 

Allen pulled into the driveway - the crunch of his tires, his truck door creaking open, his feet hitting the rocks, his hand fumbling with the keys in the door. Then, she felt the cool fall air rush over her and Allen running towards her. 

“HELEN?!” He screamed, imagining the worst.

“I’m okay. I’m just, here. I’m laying here, because I can’t imagine what else to do right now. Allen, I can’t see. I’m freaking out. What if this is permanent? What if I really can’t see, forever?”

“Okay, first things first, let’s get you dressed. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Just like Allen to be practical, Helen thought.

She moved so much faster with him by her side, leading her down the hall. He picked out her outfit - matching wasn’t exactly a top priority right now - besides he always had better taste in fashion that she did. He helped her get the toothpaste onto her toothbrush and the toothbrush into her mouth, guided her to the sink and held her hair back while she spit. He handed her a pony tail holder. She could at least do that part blind.

The drive to the emergency room (Allen felt this was more than the “doc in the box” could handle) was weird, to say the least. Helen was used to turning her head to look for traffic when Allen turned his head. Call it controlling, if you will. Helen felt like two sets of eyes were better than one. Hmm. That’s something she’d have to get used to.

Turns out, you don’t have to wait that long in the ER if you experience sudden blindness. And, it turns out, people assume you’ve suddenly turned completely stupid, because they talk as if you weren’t there. Just because I can’t see you doesn’t mean I can’t hear you, Helen thought.

After an array of tests, lights shined into her eyes, blood drawn, and imaging taken, the doctor walked into her room hours later. He announced his entrance by the sound of the shower-curtain-like privacy screen being pulled aside. He cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Severson?” He asked. Helen could hear the sound of him flipping through her chart.

“Yes,” Helen replied.

 “I’m Dr. Noles. We met earlier?” He asked, as if she wouldn’t recall that he was the only doctor she’d seen since she arrived. Again, with the thinking I’m stupid, Helen thought.

“Mrs. Severson, we have your test results. We believe this started as ‘Amaurosis Fugax.’”

“What is that?” Allen interrupted. “That sounds like a parasite or something.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Severson. It’s the medical term for temporary vision loss.”

“Temporary?” Helen piped in, hopeful.

“Well, Mrs. Severson, we think it started as that. It’s caused by many things, like high blood pressure and stress. Did you notice any vision problems leading up to today?” The doctor asked.

Shame. Hot shame. Helen could feel her cheeks reddening as she started to answer. “Yes, I… I’ve been having trouble seeing for a while. But, I just thought I’d needed new glasses.”

“If we’d caught it sooner, this could have been reversible. Unfortunately, Mrs. Severson, this is permanent. We can send you to a specialist in the city. They have all sorts of advancements these days.” The doctor explained.

“Will I ever be able to see again? If I go see these doctors?” The desperation was evident in her voice.

The silence seemed to fill the room. It was amazing how loud it was when you didn’t have eyes to watch fingers fidget or toes tap, she thought.

It felt like a silent conversation was going on between Allen and the doctor. Like they were sharing a look that Helen couldn’t be part of.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, the sounds of the metal rods sliding the curtain closed behind him as he left the room.

The drive home felt even longer than the drive to the hospital. It felt darker now. Helen’s stomach rumbled. 

“Let’s get something to eat,” Allen offered. 

Helen didn’t want to go anywhere. Just home. They went through a drive thru. At least Helen could order a hamburger without having to ask Allen to read the options to her. They rode in silence, except for the chewing noises, which seemed exceptionally loud.

The crunch of the gravel signaled they were home. Allen hopped out and ran to her side of the truck. He opened the door and reached for her hand, like he had when they were first dating. He led her into the house, walking her over to the couch where she sat down.

“What now?” she asked.

“Do you want to watch… OH…” Allen said, rolling in the stupidity of his question.

“I meant, what now for us? For our life? For my life?” Helen asked, ignoring his foot-in-mouth moment.

“I won’t be able to work. Or clean. Or cook. I’d write a list of everything that’s messed up about this situation, but I wouldn’t be able to find a pen or see what I’m writing down!” Helen was getting herself worked up. And rightfully so, she thought.

The sofa cushions sunk lower as Allen sat down next to her, grasping her hand again.

“What now… is this. This is our life. For better or worse. In sickness and in health, remember? We do… this. We learn how to live. To adapt. Honey, there are thousands - maybe millions - of blind people in this world. They’ve learned to live, to adapt, to thrive even without sight. They work. They love. They do everything we do, well, except maybe drive. And tell me you won’t miss parallel parking!” Allen joked.

“Honey, I love you. I love you for who you are, not for what you can see or do.” Allen continued. He always knew the right thing to say. “I’ll make you an appointment with the specialist first thing tomorrow. For now, let’s head on to bed.”

Allen stood up, Helen rising after him. He led her down the hall.

“Watch the transition to the hardwood now.” Allen cautioned. “We really do need to yank this carpet. That pee smell is getting old.” 

She felt him turn her towards the bedroom door, stopping so he could reset the tall table at the end of the hall. “This is the first thing to go, even before the carpet. Why did your mom insist on giving this to us in the first place? She knows you don’t care about keeping up appearances.”

He sat her on the bed and found her most comfortable pajamas, changing her gently out of whatever it was he had dressed her in that day. They went through the teeth brushing routine again, which was easier this time. He led her to her side of the bed. Helen crawled in to the comfort of her bed and pulled the comforter over her eyes, leaving a small breathing hole. She cocooned herself into the blankets, blocking out the outside world, and welcoming in the darkness of sleep. A sleep where she would dream in color and wake to a new, sightless, world that awaited her, with her husband by her side to lead the way.