Other Point of View

My last blog post was a story about odd voices being heard in an abandoned hospital wing.  Today's post is the same story, but from a different point of view.  This time is the patient that is telling their side of the tale.

I have no idea what all has happened to me over the last few days. My doctor said the procedure would be a simple one. While I would have to stay in the hospital overnight, it shouldn't have been more than a day or two. I checked in almost a week ago and they still haven't given me a definite release date yet.

I have a grasp on most of the medical issues that have kept me from going home. They are all dictated clearly on my chart. An unexpected allergy to the anesthesia caused some complications during the surgery. It took me an extra day to recover from the anaphylactic shock before they could go to an alternate anesthesia and actually perform the surgery that I first needed. It took me longer than normal to completely wake up from the alternate anesthesia The doctor had actually told me this was a possibility with what they had experienced during the first attempt at my surgery. It was what happened while I was in and out of it during the day it took me to wake up that has me confused.

I only remember flashes and bits and pieces. I was on a gurney and being wheeled down a bright hallway. There were lots of people and noises. I can only guess that something major was happening. Next thing I know, I'm still on the gurney but in a darker part of the hospital. I'm being wheeled into a room with yellow walls instead of the white I've seen everywhere else. The attendant rolls my gurney into a space by the window and quickly leaves. I was too in and out of consciousness to realize I was now completely alone. At least I thought I was.

I couldn't tell you how much time passed while I was alone in that room. I just remember waking up to voices and nobody being there. Generally, it was only one person talking. It was difficult to make out his words, either from his soft voice or because the drugs in my system. I did think I heard the name Dr. Rizowski. I got the impression he was speaking to me, but I couldn't see him to be certain. Sometimes, I would hear more than one voice. Whole conversations passing back and forth over my sleeping body. I understood none of it.

Finally, I was starting to have more waking moments than not. The voices were still there. I looked around the room and saw nobody was there. I looked over the walls for a television or radio, there wasn't one at all. The only other thing I could think of was a loud TV or radio in another room. An orderly eventually came into the room and apologized for me being left alone for so long. Apparently, there had been a major accident involving a cattle truck and a passenger train. The hospital staff had been swamped with injured people and a couple of officers that were hurt by panicked cows. What happened next extended my stay in the hospital for a few days under observation.

The orderly repeatedly apologized for me being left in an abandoned wing of the hospital. It was little more than a mumble, but I told him I had heard voices in that wing. The orderly only shook his head. He said the entire wing had been unused since the hospital expanded. The previous guy had been in a rush to help with the people hurt in the train and had left me somewhere he felt would be out of the way. It had taken the majority of the day for someone to realize I wasn't where I was supposed to be and start looking for me. I mentioned that Dr. Rizowski had visited with me. The orderly suddenly stopped and asked me to repeat the name. I did and he was silent the rest of the trip to my new room.

I was watching some pointless show in my new room when someone from the psychological department came to visit me. The orderly had mentioned what I had said to her and she wanted to check on my mental faculties before signing my release. She informed me that there was no Dr. Rizowski currently working in the hospital. The only doctor with a name like that had been killed by a patient's disgruntled family member years ago. The hospital kept me three extra days to ensure my reactions to the anesthesia hadn't done any permanent damage to my brain. I quickly realized I didn't want to tell them about all of the other voices in that room so they would let me go home sooner.

Seeing The Whole World

Once before I posted about someone without the ability to see.  The idea of the exact opposite has been floating around in my head for many years.  What are some of the things someone would do if they found themselves with the ability to see anything, anywhere?  Viewing the past and future would still be impossible, but it would be easy to look at anything currently occurring on the planet.

I was finally coming to terms with my sight. It wasn't something that most people have to adjust to. My peripheral vision wasn't narrowing to a dark tunnel. It wasn't getting more difficult to read signs at a distance or books up close. I had to adjust to the fact that I could see everything.

When I say everything, it is much more than simply a matter of my vision being 20/20. At any given moment I could focus my view on a section of wall and see every nail pinning the drywall to the stud, how much the wood compressed and how much of it splintered when the nail was driven in, each stroke of the sander smoothing out the mud in the panel joints. I could easily see all of this regardless of whether the subsequent construction had been covered with paint, wallpaper, or both.

More than that, I could lay back and let my point of view roam anywhere in the world. I could see diplomats speaking to each other in a secured conference room on the other side of the planet. Since I couldn't hear them and never bothered to learn to read lips, all of the state secrets they may be passing to each other were still safe.

All of this started with an attack. I was working my usual evening shift at a corner convenience store. An armed thug rammed thug sauntered through the door, pulled a gun, and shot me in the head. As I lay on the ground bleeding, he rummaged through the cash drawers and helped himself. He walked away with just under $500. Not worth the life he just intended to take if you ask me. Even with the security cameras at the front door, behind the counter, and in the parking lot outside, the police were unable to identify the guy. Since I had seen his face very clearly, I told them I would gladly point him out in a lineup if they needed me to. They never called me in.

However, his shot wasn't lethally accurate. The bullet just grazed my skull. Somehow the pressure wave in the fluid inside my skull caused something to change in my brain itself. At least that's what the doctors keep telling me each time they call me in to take more pictures of my head. They don't know what kind of effects the difference in my brain chemistry may have, but that's only because I haven't told then about my new planet-wide visual acuity.

Doctor's orders kept me out of work the next couple of weeks. My boss said he would hold my position for me as long as I didn't sue the store. He smiled and sounded like he was joking, but I kind of doubt that. By the time I clocked back in for another evening shift, I was already aware I could see considerably more than I had before. With a little practice during slow parts of my shift, my vision was improving by leaps and bounds. After my first week I could count not only the cash in the drawer without opening it, but see exactly how much was in each shift's drop envelopes as they sat inside the safe in the boss's office.

The first time I noticed how much more I could see it was more out of boredom than anything else. I was sitting on my couch watching television. A movie was on that took place in the Sahara desert. Seeing all that sand blowing around and the shimmering heat was making me a little thirsty. I looked in the general direction of my kitchen and wondered if I had any beers in my fridge. Instantly I could see inside the refrigerator as though the door and wall between it and me were made of clear glass. All of the contents were clearly visible to me. It came as such a surprise that I blinked a couple times and the view disappeared. I sat and stared at the wall for a minute, thinking the whole thing must have been a hallucination caused by being shot.

I looked at the wall between me and my bedroom and again thought about the contents of my fridge. Nothing happened this time. Since I was looking at my bedroom wall my mind wandered to what clean clothes I might have to wear the next day. Suddenly I could see all of the folded shirts and pants in my dresser drawers. I noticed a couple of shirts I knew I had left in the hamper were sitting in my drawer. I realized this couldn't be a hallucination since I had no way of knowing my sister had washed my clothes and put them away while I was in the hospital. I'm not sure why I didn't start to panic. I began to look through other walls in my apartment. I could see how much soap was left in the bottle in my bathroom, this despite three walls and the plastic of the bottle itself potentially blocking my view.

I started to experiment with how far I could see. I peeked into other apartments on the same floor as mine. Then into rooms in apartments one and two floors beneath my feet. I kept extending my view further and further. Reading the expiration dates on the labels of food in the store on the corner. Counting the seeds in the vegetables on display at the farmer's market down the street. I will admit I spent too much time peering into the women's locker room at the gym a couple blocks down while sitting alone in the living room of my apartment. There seemed to be no limit to how far my vision could reach or how detailed a view I could get.

This new ability was a source of fun for the most part. I could watch any NFL game I wanted without my television being on or traveling to a stadium. I could watch a movie being made anywhere in the world. Women's locker rooms weren't the only places I looked at ladies in various states of undress. In general, whatever I wanted to see, I just looked at.

The fun stopped a few months after I got back to work. Once again, an armed thug entered the convenience store. This time he was wearing a ski mask despite the heat of the August evening. Without even thinking about it, I glanced at his waistband behind his back. There was a gun behind his back, loaded with the safety off and a round chambered. A quick look behind the ski mask told me how much danger I was truly in. The face hiding behind the cotton was the same one that belonged to the man that had shot me once before. There was no way I could give him the chance to kill me or hurt anyone else again.

What are some of the things you would look at if you could focus your sight on anything?  What would you look at first?

Senses of Time and Place

Sight is one of the most heavily used senses today.  Travel is accomplished with the help of traffic signs of different colors or displays of flights and their pending arrival or departure.  Even pedestrians utilize street signs for their location and required directions.  Cell phones and tablets require custom settings to be activated and the occasional additional app to be installed so owners unable to see the touchscreen can still enjoy their devices.  While many art museums feature audio tours, they tend to describe the life of the artist or history of the painting and not the beauty of the piece itself.  Magazines and other publications try to boost their sales by featuring covers that are pleasing to the eye or broadcasting controversial headlines.  A difference between the amount of movement detected by the eyes and the motion sensitive inner ear is what causes motion sickness.  These are just some examples of the importance of the information our brains receive from our eyes.

The recent release of Daredevil on Netflix got me thinking about how much can be learned about the surrounding world without being able to see.  Even without enhanced senses, much can be gleaned about obstacles ahead by listening to the effects solid objects have on sounds in the area.  A number of blind folks have developed a navigation technique that takes advantage of echolocation.

The post today attempts to describe a normal daily activity while using only the senses of hearing, smell, touch, and taste.

It was a wonderful spring morning.  The warmth of the sun emerged through the windows as I walked across the smooth tile floor of the kitchen.  My bare feet had received a slight shock when I stepped from the carpet of my bedroom hall onto the chill of the ceramic tiles of the kitchen.  The difference was noticeable, but not as drastic as an early winter morning would provide.

My toes rested familiarly in the gentle roughness of the grouted groove between the tiles that were lined up in front of my refrigerator.  Opening it up, I heard the gentle clatter of glass on glass from the shifting bottles on the shelves of the door.  A cool draft filled with the smells of box of oranges placed on the bottom shelf blew across my face.  Reaching in, I felt for the round tub of butter where I usually left it.  Finding the smooth plastic, I reached around it to make sure its size and shape were what I expected.  I set the butter on the shelf next to the fridge and grabbed the second jar on the right from the top shelf of the door.  Removing the lid, I gave the contents a sniff to make sure it was the orange marmalade that I was in the mood for.  It took spooning grape jelly instead of pickle relish on a hot dog for me to learn that a jar sitting where I expected it doesn't mean the jar would necessarily contain what I was looking for.  That was certainly one of the more interesting hot dogs I've ever eaten.

Stepping through the warm spot formed by the sun again, I stopped for a second to warm my feet up and savor the start of a potentially nice day.  Finally, I arrived at the larger counter I used for preparing my meals.  Reaching forward with a well practiced motion, I grabbed the smooth glass knob of my breadbox.  My fingers traced along the first plastic bag of bread they found.  Finding the front of the bag, I felt the plastic clip holding it closed.  That clip told me the bread was white bread, not the wheat I wanted to toast.  Finding another bag, I felt the twist tie that meant this bag contained the type of bread I desired.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of warm wheat as I pulled a knife from a nearby drawer and opened the butter and marmalade.  The satisfying "tunk" of the toaster told me my breakfast was perfectly warmed just as a light rumble from my stomach informed me it was time to eat.  The hard wooden handle of the butter knife hardly moved in my hand as I drew it across the soft butter.  A long, light crunching sound reached my ears as I moved the butter-coated knife along the stiff bread.  Another soft rumble emerged from my stomach as I buttered the second slice.  The scent of sweetness and oranges reached my nose as a layer of marmalade followed the butter.  With one hand, I reached out and dropped the knife in the area I knew the sink to be.  The clatter of metal blade on metal basin told me I was right on target, once again.  My other hand brought one of the coated slices of toast unerringly towards my mouth.  I took a big bite of the crispy bread.  My mouth was filled with the creamy texture and sweet citrus flavor of my chosen toppings.

Now that my empty stomach had been filled, it was time to get the day started.  The sounds of beeping alarms and shifting bed springs indicated that my roommates would be up soon.  I left the butter and marmalade on the counter where the others could see them.  I returned to my room and prepared myself for whatever the world had in store.  It did seem odd to me that the only one in the house up early enough to enjoy a sunrise was the only one that couldn't see it's colors.

If you were to go blind, what is the one sight you think you would truly miss?  With descriptive audio tracks on movies and television shows, books in braille, crosswalk signals with audio cues, and text-to-speech apps, do you think there is more that could be done for the sightless to help them enjoy the modern world?

Another Point of View

Story ideas seem to come out of nowhere.  During a typical day I was struck by the lightning bolt of a unique thought.  A story from an unusual point of view that I hadn't explored before.  It was a fun experience writing about the life of this individual.

I enjoy my life. Granted, I work hard every day, but so do the majority of those around me. Some of them are diggers that spend the majority of their daily lives with their faces down in the dirt. They dig out passages for traveling and clear out the chambers we use for storage and living quarters. Others spend all day and night caring for the young. Feeding them, cleaning them, making sure they are in a safe area, and carrying them from one place to another if absolutely necessary. The worst job around is sanitation. Those poor folks wander the hallways looking for the wastes other have just left lying around. They have to pick it up and carry it to the dump, an area that the rest of us avoid as much as possible.

I consider myself lucky to have one of the better jobs. I'm one of the ones responsible for our food. I get outside to sample the fresh air and light of the sun. When I look up, I see all the natural beauty this world has to offer. I am also one of the fortunate ones that gets to get the first taste when a new type of food is found. While I still have to share the food, I like to think my opinion of the taste shapes how many others will eat it and what they will think of it. If I don't like something, I let others know and almost none of them will get food there again. It is a heavy responsibility to have sometimes. It is also my privilege to carry particularly wonderful foods to the big boss and share it with her. That is the part of my job I enjoy the most. Getting to interact directly with the woman responsible for all of us being here.

Like I said, the majority of those around me work as hard as I do. It's the ones that don't work as hard that really upset me. It's the folks responsible for our security that do very little on any given day. They do hardly anything. They just stand around watching us work or strut up and down the Just because they are bigger, this is supposed to garner them more respect. They spend most of their time getting in the way of the rest of us working. We have to move around them and their larger size makes it that much more difficult.

The only time they actually do anything is when someone invades our territory. Then they mobilize and attack the invaders. Of course, they go back to doing nothing once the invaders are taken care of. Of course then my coworkers and I have extra work to do. We have to handle any corpses that may be laying around as well as our regular duties. The least the big guys could do is clean up their own messes. I realize they are important because they protect all of us. However, they could also help out with some of the rest of the work when they are not doing anything else.

All things considered, my life is good. I have a job I like and work with many others like me. I get to interact with our majestic leader. I get to experience wonderful sights, sounds, smells, and tastes all the time. Despite the routine nature of my job, no two days are exactly the same. Even though there are thousands just like me, I enjoy who I am.  Who ever would have thought being an ant could be so wonderful?