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Lola Bras-Jorge
Artistic Response to the Blindness Test
My eyes are open. I know my eyes are open. I’m blinking. My eyelashes are batting against each other, I can feel it so i am certain that they are open, but… even though they’re open everything is dark. I breathe heavily as panic settles in. No, calm down. I tell myself. Maybe I can’t see because it is a very late hour of the night so it’s really dark. I’ll just turn the light on. I know my room well enough; my bed is situated in front of my bedroom door and the switch is on the right wall. I have a mental image, I can get there.
Moving out of my bed toward the door I hold my arms out so that I won’t bump my head. I even walk nice and slowly to avoid stubbing my toe. The tips of my fingers touch something solid so I flatten my hand out and slide them across the wall. I find the switch without too much difficulty although it is located slightly higher than i had pictured it in my mind. I flip it on and close my eyes in anticipation to hurting the back on my eyeballs.
Why are my hands trembling?
You know when your eyes are closed and you expect to block out all the light butt here is still that dimness that makes it through your eyelids? You kind of hate it because your parents always woke you up like that when you were a kid, or the sun peeked through the blinds and the dimness would wake you up. I let go of a very cringing laugh that got caught in my throat. I don’t see the dimness. I open my eyes and it is still dark. I flip the switch on and off, and on and off, and on and off. Why? Why why why why?
I lose control of myself and bang on the switch with my clenched fist letting out a scream from the very body of my heart commencing a waterfall of tears. My father comes rushing into my room, but I only know it’s him because when he came in he asked what was wrong. I crumble to the floor and stared downward to what I imagined was the floor, but for all I knew I was looking straight at my father who didn’t know any more about what was going on than I did. All I know is that at this point I am crying, my body is trembling, and my father has one of his hands on my back. Everything else is just blackness.
Whatever happened after that is a blur, as if my mind had been shut off. The noises that had surrounded me we are just jumbled chaos, a background making my own thoughts get engulfed and then spat back out. My mother had been crying, my father had been getting the car, that was as much as I knew on their end. As for me, my mind had shut off. Actually, that’s not entirely true, my mind hadn’t fully shut off, but I know that I only thought about 3 things: I am blind. What will I do for school? What time is it?
Sitting in the hospital waiting room my head droops over and my body feels numb. I can hear a few things going on around but I cannot get a clear picture of my surroundings. Both my parents had to help me to actually take a seat. I can’t even sit my butt down at the right place anymore. I can hear my father speaking to what I assume to be a nurse that must be behind one of those glass wall protected desks. My mother is crying although I know she is not sitting right next to me I cannot situate her in the space around me. Her sobbing is like an echo in the darkness that now is my vision. I try to picture the room as much as I can. I have never been to the hospital but I want to know what it looks like. I want to know where I am. I never thought I would want to know what the inside of a hospital looks like, but I felt dizzy not knowing.
You should give it up. A raspy masculine voice like that of a heavy smoker who survived to the age of 70 rang in my head.
“Who said that?” I say as I shoot my head up and look around out of habit.
“Sweetie,” my mother spoke and then her arms were around me. I was startled by the sudden physical contact especially since had no way to anticipate it. My mother showered my head with kind kisses to reassure me, “You will me okay. Everything is going to be okay.”
I am sure she intended to make me feel better but I felt like a large part of what she said was for her own comfort.
I would recommend not responding to me outloud. No one else can hear me. The voice spoke again.
What the heck is going on? I thought to myself.
Well you’re blind. Again the same voice spoke.
You heard me think? Who are you?
I am Blindness. He responded. Well, to be more accurate, I am your Blindness.
But I don’t want to be blind. I began to cry and my mother rocked me back and forth as she held me tight.
You can cry and you can deny it, but it won’t change the fact. Once you have accepted it and are ready to see, let me know.
“See!? What do you mean?” I shouted in the hospital.
“Sweetie calm down.”
I pushed my mother off of me and stood up. There was no point in me standing. Blindness was in my mind and it wasn’t like I could go anywhere in my condition.
Eyes are not the only way to see. He was back! And by the sound of his voice I could tell he was smirking or that he was amused.
“Blindness!” I shouted again and started pouring my eyes out.
Yes young lady?
“Please help me see.”
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