The Stairs Are Where I'm Free
My daughter would love to run more than anything other than being able to see, I'd venture to guess. Everything is a hazard to her. By way of an example, my son was sweeping up crumbs from the pile of saltine crackers he'd eaten earlier in the day at the bar seats by the kitchen sink where the children eat their meals. In order to get all the crumbs, he moved the two seats away from their home location where they're pushed up against the bar. My daughter came downstairs at a fairly speedy clip and full-body slammed into the solid wooden chair. She was hurt, she was upset, and she blamed my son.
We try to keep the whole house safe, but it's not possible all the time. Today, my daughter and I were in the basement when it was time to go to the second floor for her next online class. (Today was the first day back to school for her which will be online until the middle of next month at least.) On the way up the stairs she ran ahead of me, calling back, "the stairs are where I'm free!" I hadn't thought about it but she's right in that. There are never unexpected things to run into on stairs. I'm glad she has at least one place she can feel safe.
The Sound of Rain
I hadn't realized it had begun raining one-day last week. My daughter told me about the rain and I asked if she was sure it was raining? She told me it hadn't been raining long at all, less than twenty minutes. Then she said, "I can tell how long it's been raining by how the cars sound." I asked her what she meant. She said it was how the wheels sounded on the road with the water that had already landed.
Always Asking
My daughter told me in frustration one day, "Do you know what annoying about being blind? Everyone can always see the words or the thing or anything else before I do. Because I have to always ask. I always have to ask."
Seeing Dreams
This one was the most surprising of all the things I have to write about tonight. It seems like much of what I write regarding my daughter has an undertone of sadness to it. She can't run freely, she has to ask what everything is, having to grieve the loss of her vision, hurting herself again and again, etc. This one I don't know if I'd call happy or hopeful, but my daughter has dreams where she can see. She was having her periodic appointment with her psychiatrist and she mentioned this to him. It's not all good though. She described being in a field in one dream and having a good time with friends, But then a monster came and chased her. "She said sadly, they always end badly." Her doctor told me it was a possibility it was a side effect of the medication she was taking, so perhaps when she stops that in the future, she'll be able to have happy dreams in which she can see.
The Big Boy Update: It's Not Your Fault. I have a conversation with my son from time to time about his responsibility when it comes to my daughter. For the bar chair incident, I told him it wasn't his fault that his sister ran into the chair, even though she blamed him quite loudly. I told him he had more responsibility than he would if his sister could see, however. He's seen her regularly run into things and get hurt. It happens so often he probably doesn't even think much of it and considers it a normal thing. What I told him was that we had a responsibility to keep her safe, so she could move in the house and not constantly hurt herself. That includes not leaving toys in the middle of the floor, picking up shoes, and always putting furniture, drawers, etc. back to their home location. It's a big responsibility and I told him how proud I was that he always thought of his sister and tried to keep her safe. He does a good job and he does care about his sister. It's never his fault, but it does feel like it sometimes.
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