Post by minianne on Oct 14, 2009 22:33:05 GMT -5
“A Long Way Up”
Chapter 9
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
Christie dried her hands on a dishcloth, then replaced it on the hook next to the sink. All the dinner dishes were washed and everything was put away.
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
She peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see Jim sitting on one of the wing chairs bouncing a ball on the floor, then catching it, over and over again. His back was to her, but she could practically see the dark cloud hanging over his head. Rick and Carole had gone back to Indiana that morning and this was the first time she and Jim had been alone together since he’d been released from the hospital.
Jim hadn’t said very much since his family left. They ate dinner in silence. His only comments were, “The lasagna is very good” and “What type of dressing is this on the salad?” She didn’t have the energy to try and make conversation. These past two weeks had been draining. No, make that the past couple of months had been her worst nightmare come true.
Jim’s two week follow up with Dr. Michaels had been yesterday. She and Rick had accompanied him to the appointment. The doctor said that Jim was progressing nicely and gave him the all-clear to resume normal activities, but to listen to what his body was telling him and not overdo it. He kept Jim on his steroid medication as well as renewed his pain medication. The discomfort behind Jim’s eyes was beginning to subside, but tended to flare up toward the end of the day.
The worst part of the appointment was when the doctor clicked on that little flashlight and looked into his eyes. He could hear the doctor’s hand moving back and forth in front of him. What he wouldn’t give to see it.
When Jim told Dr. Michaels about his trouble sleeping, the doctor confirmed what he had suspected. With no perception of light, his circadian rhythms were off. It was exactly what happens to international travelers…jet lag. He gave Jim a prescription for a mild sleeping aid and instructed him to take it one hour before bedtime. In addition, he was to maintain a strict schedule of going to bed and waking up at the same time for at least two weeks. That should re-set his inner clock.
Jim had anticipated the doctor’s “release” and called John Eberle at Lighthouse International earlier that week to inquire about rehabilitation classes. He was going to stop by the Dunbar’s apartment tomorrow morning.
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
Bounce, bounce…
“Shit,” Jim said under his breath as he strained to hear where the ball had rolled off to.
“Lose something?” Christie asked, retrieving the ball and placing it into his hand. Jim scowled. He wasn’t wearing the dark glasses that had become a near constant fixture, and his eyes looked tired. She sat on the arm of the chair and gently rubbed his back.
“It’s been a long day,” she said, watching him squeeze the ball tightly in his hand.
“Yeah,” he replied, nodding.
“Want to watch some television?”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed.”
“Sit here with me for awhile. I’d like to talk to you.”
He didn’t say anything right away, but his body language spoke volumes.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, already on the defense.
“Jimmy,” she said. “We need to talk about this going back to work business.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m gonna do it.”
“Sweetheart, you’re blind.”
“No shit, Chris…” he said, turning his blank eyes toward her.
“Forget it!” she cried. “Do what you want. I’ll be here when you want to start making sense.” She stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Jim threw his hands up in disgust. He could tell this was going to be a long road to hoe. Here he was, scared out of his wits but not being able to show it. Maybe it would turn out that he couldn’t do what he wanted. But, God damn it…couldn’t they at least give him a little encouragement? No, they were acting like he was crazy.
He couldn’t see, that was true…but his mind was still functioning. There had to be a way to get back to work. If he could do that, he would be able to accept this blindness. f*ck. That wasn’t true. He’d never accept it, but if he could go back to work he’d make do with what he had to work with.
If they took his job away from him, who would he be? Washed up…retired at 40? What would he do? Hang out at the local VFW drinking beer? Oh, he could just see himself sitting at the bar with all the old guys, talking about the old days, tapping his way home with a white cane around midnight…
“No,” he thought. “I’m going to dig myself out of this with or without them.”
Chapter 9
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
Christie dried her hands on a dishcloth, then replaced it on the hook next to the sink. All the dinner dishes were washed and everything was put away.
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
She peeked around the corner of the kitchen to see Jim sitting on one of the wing chairs bouncing a ball on the floor, then catching it, over and over again. His back was to her, but she could practically see the dark cloud hanging over his head. Rick and Carole had gone back to Indiana that morning and this was the first time she and Jim had been alone together since he’d been released from the hospital.
Jim hadn’t said very much since his family left. They ate dinner in silence. His only comments were, “The lasagna is very good” and “What type of dressing is this on the salad?” She didn’t have the energy to try and make conversation. These past two weeks had been draining. No, make that the past couple of months had been her worst nightmare come true.
Jim’s two week follow up with Dr. Michaels had been yesterday. She and Rick had accompanied him to the appointment. The doctor said that Jim was progressing nicely and gave him the all-clear to resume normal activities, but to listen to what his body was telling him and not overdo it. He kept Jim on his steroid medication as well as renewed his pain medication. The discomfort behind Jim’s eyes was beginning to subside, but tended to flare up toward the end of the day.
The worst part of the appointment was when the doctor clicked on that little flashlight and looked into his eyes. He could hear the doctor’s hand moving back and forth in front of him. What he wouldn’t give to see it.
When Jim told Dr. Michaels about his trouble sleeping, the doctor confirmed what he had suspected. With no perception of light, his circadian rhythms were off. It was exactly what happens to international travelers…jet lag. He gave Jim a prescription for a mild sleeping aid and instructed him to take it one hour before bedtime. In addition, he was to maintain a strict schedule of going to bed and waking up at the same time for at least two weeks. That should re-set his inner clock.
Jim had anticipated the doctor’s “release” and called John Eberle at Lighthouse International earlier that week to inquire about rehabilitation classes. He was going to stop by the Dunbar’s apartment tomorrow morning.
Bounce, bounce, bounce…
Bounce, bounce…
“Shit,” Jim said under his breath as he strained to hear where the ball had rolled off to.
“Lose something?” Christie asked, retrieving the ball and placing it into his hand. Jim scowled. He wasn’t wearing the dark glasses that had become a near constant fixture, and his eyes looked tired. She sat on the arm of the chair and gently rubbed his back.
“It’s been a long day,” she said, watching him squeeze the ball tightly in his hand.
“Yeah,” he replied, nodding.
“Want to watch some television?”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed.”
“Sit here with me for awhile. I’d like to talk to you.”
He didn’t say anything right away, but his body language spoke volumes.
“What do you want to talk about?” he asked, already on the defense.
“Jimmy,” she said. “We need to talk about this going back to work business.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m gonna do it.”
“Sweetheart, you’re blind.”
“No shit, Chris…” he said, turning his blank eyes toward her.
“Forget it!” she cried. “Do what you want. I’ll be here when you want to start making sense.” She stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Jim threw his hands up in disgust. He could tell this was going to be a long road to hoe. Here he was, scared out of his wits but not being able to show it. Maybe it would turn out that he couldn’t do what he wanted. But, God damn it…couldn’t they at least give him a little encouragement? No, they were acting like he was crazy.
He couldn’t see, that was true…but his mind was still functioning. There had to be a way to get back to work. If he could do that, he would be able to accept this blindness. f*ck. That wasn’t true. He’d never accept it, but if he could go back to work he’d make do with what he had to work with.
If they took his job away from him, who would he be? Washed up…retired at 40? What would he do? Hang out at the local VFW drinking beer? Oh, he could just see himself sitting at the bar with all the old guys, talking about the old days, tapping his way home with a white cane around midnight…
“No,” he thought. “I’m going to dig myself out of this with or without them.”