Me and Charley

32. Life Sentence

It was a rough week. I'd wake up several times each night and switch on my bedside light, to no effect. That Friday I woke to the noise of distant firecrackers. It was the Fourth of July. Later that morning when Charley called to ask if I wanted to go to the fireworks in Lachaine I brusquely refused. That Sunday I wouldn't go to church. I barely ate anything. It was the worst week of my life. Going blind sucks. Going blind at fifteen sucks to high heaven. Right at the time of life when everything in me hankered for independence I became dependent on everyone around me for just about everything, or so I thought.

I hung onto the hope that at our appointment Tuesday Doc Hynes would say it was all a mistake and everything would be fine. I think Mom had too. Not so. He told Mom and me about all the experts he had spoken with. No one had offered any hope.

"I see most of the blood has been resorbed," he said. "Let's check your pressure." When he had put in the numbing drops I said, "Doc, let me see that thing you used last time." He put it in my outstretched hand. I went over it carefully with my fingers. "I think I understand it better now. Thanks." Mrs. Anderson held my head as he dropped the little hammer on my eyeballs.

"O.D. thirteen, O.S. fifteen. Much better."

I asked, "What's O.D. and O.S.?"

"Right eye, left eye," he replied. "The first letters of the Latin words."

Mom said, "Doctor, with all the progress in medicine that's been made in the last fifty years I just can't believe there's no hope for him."

"As I said, Mrs. Ross, it's being studied as intensely as anything in medicine. I need to tell you, though, that there's so much damage to Trey's retinas that I can't imagine how their function could ever be restored."

I exclaimed, "That sucks! That just sucks!"

Mom said, "Come on, Trey. We're leaving."

"Wait!" I hollered. I heard the door slam. "Doc? Are you still here?"

"Yes, I am," he replied. "Come with me, we'll find your mother." I took his arm and we went to the waiting room. They said Mom had run out without saying anything to anyone. "Mrs. Anderson," said the doctor, "please take Trey to the parking lot, see if his mother is still there."

"Come with me," said the nurse. I took her arm and we walked the half-block to the parking area. "Trey," she said, "please describe your mother's car to me. I've never seen it."

I said, "It's a blue pickup, Ma'am."

"Oh," she said. "There's only one pickup here. Someone's sitting at the wheel." We walked a short distance and my cane struck a tire. I felt my way along the side until we reached the door. The window was open and I said, "Mom?"

"I'm here, Trey."

The nurse said, "You two need to go home and calm down."

Mom sighed and said, "Yes, you're right. Get in, Trey."

The nurse tried to guide me but I shook her off and said, "No thanks, Ma'am, I can find my way. Thanks for getting me out here." I felt my way around to the shotgun door and got in. Mom cranked the engine over and we began the familiar journey amid the sounds and smells of the city. We rode in silence for a long time, well past the honeysuckle fence. Finally Mom said, "Trey, I'm sorry I left you alone there." I said nothing. She said, "Trey, don't you have anything to say to me?"

I said, "Not really, Mom." We rode in silence for a long time, past the thump of the railroad tracks at the village. Soon came the piney aroma and the sound of the breeze-blown leaves of the tall trees around the house. We came to a stop and Mom asked, "Will you be all right here by yourself for a while? I really need to talk with Ms. Rhoda."