Fighting Blind by Ivan Castro

Author:Ivan Castro
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

13

Hopelessness and Grace

I didn’t think that at the time.

Every night I prayed that the next morning a miracle would happen and I would see. I would pray so hard.

I’d wake up and look around, up and down, look for light …

I would strain.

No light. And then my mind started to play with me. I knew what Evelyn looked like. She would come in the room, and I would see her.

I see you!

And I would describe what she was wearing.

You have your hair down and those little Capri pants and that pretty jacket …

She’d get all excited and happy—then realize that I’d described something wrong, her hair or her pants or her shirt. I was having phantom vision, a common problem for those who suddenly lose their eyes.

My nightmares got worse. Things happened around me and I couldn’t move. I was in a car and it would careen out of control and crash and I couldn’t move. I was carjacked.

The dreamscape wasn’t war, but the psychology was pretty obvious—things would happen and I couldn’t move, couldn’t save Evelyn, couldn’t help myself. It was directly related to my being in bed so long, restrained and sedated, but it was also metaphorical: the injuries, blindness especially, rendering me helpless.

Helpless meant impotent. Impotent meant worthless. Blind meant all of the above.

As the days went by and I couldn’t see, I despaired. What was I going to do? I was a worthless piece of meat.

I can’t drive, I can’t see, I can’t even eat. I can’t walk on my own. I’m not the man I was before.

I’m not a man.

My dreams and goals had been yanked away. Bouncing grandkids on my knee—that would never happen. Our family—that would never happen.

My career as an officer was over. The great times I’d had in the army would never be repeated. I’d never watch another fight on TV. I’d never see my wife’s smile.

I was afraid Evelyn would leave me. I expected her to. I was jealous anytime anyone was around her. I was sure they would take her away—what woman would stay with a blind man?

All I knew about the blind was this: They walked with canes and had guide dogs. I knew nothing beyond that, except that I wanted neither a dog nor a cane.

I replayed the attack over and over, a million times a day. And a million times a day I wished I was dead. I wished that the mortar round had taken me out. It had done something worse: It had robbed me of my spirit, my soul, myself.

I was angry, mad with the world and with God. I cursed Him and pushed my faith away.

I sunk deeper and deeper in my chair each time Evelyn wheeled me around the ward. I was done.

“What’s wrong with you?” she snapped at me one day as we returned to the room.

“I’m blind.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “Every time I wheel you around there are people watching you, parents. If you could only see their sons. They’re kids.

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