You're Only Blind If You Will Not See
One of my favorite blogs is Mr. Micawber's Recipe For Happiness. Mrs. M., among many other things, designs beautiful crochet projects that are glorious in color and texture and deceptively simple. See my picture of the Bean Flower Scarf. This afternoon, when I should have been working on revisions, I read some of her other posts. I came across the story of her husband and his brain tumor. My heart went out to them, but at the same time I was overcome with awe for her matter-of-fact/this-is-life approach to their situation. And then I started to feel sad for other people - people who mistakenly believe they're perfectly healthy, or perhaps just perfect.
Mr. M's vision is...for want of a better word...twisted. It's like having crossed eyes all the time. It's a struggle to make his brain understand what he's looking at. This was once an athletic, independent man who, through no fault of his own, has lost the ability to do things he once did without thinking. Does he mope? Does he quit? Does he hide in his room for fear of bumping into walls or having people see his struggles? Read her blog entry to find out just how 'limited' he is.
His hearing's gone wonky as well. No hearing in one ear, and the other side is tone sensitive; some things he can hear just fine, others are garbled and some are unnaturally loud. Does he avoid conversation? Does he sit back and leave communication to the missus? Again, read her blog.
Vertigo makes him stumble, but he didn't stop walking. He even rides a bicycle.
So...which is worse? Mr. M's moment to moment fight to get his brain to communicate what he's looking at or the person who refuses to see anyone who is somehow different than himself? Mr. M's broken stereo hearing or than the person who cannot hear the cries of people in need? Mr. M's sometimes labored speech or the person who can never find a kind word for anyone? Mr. M's less than steady gait or the person who runs from the opportunity to help?
Mrs. M wasn't sure if she ought to celebrate the anniversary of the surgery that changed their life, but I say CELEBRATE! Slow dance in the living room. Touch every flower in the garden. Whisper 'I love you' to one another. Be proud of just how healthy you are!
Mr. M's vision is...for want of a better word...twisted. It's like having crossed eyes all the time. It's a struggle to make his brain understand what he's looking at. This was once an athletic, independent man who, through no fault of his own, has lost the ability to do things he once did without thinking. Does he mope? Does he quit? Does he hide in his room for fear of bumping into walls or having people see his struggles? Read her blog entry to find out just how 'limited' he is.
His hearing's gone wonky as well. No hearing in one ear, and the other side is tone sensitive; some things he can hear just fine, others are garbled and some are unnaturally loud. Does he avoid conversation? Does he sit back and leave communication to the missus? Again, read her blog.
Vertigo makes him stumble, but he didn't stop walking. He even rides a bicycle.
So...which is worse? Mr. M's moment to moment fight to get his brain to communicate what he's looking at or the person who refuses to see anyone who is somehow different than himself? Mr. M's broken stereo hearing or than the person who cannot hear the cries of people in need? Mr. M's sometimes labored speech or the person who can never find a kind word for anyone? Mr. M's less than steady gait or the person who runs from the opportunity to help?
Mrs. M wasn't sure if she ought to celebrate the anniversary of the surgery that changed their life, but I say CELEBRATE! Slow dance in the living room. Touch every flower in the garden. Whisper 'I love you' to one another. Be proud of just how healthy you are!