Dear
Gateway readers, it
gives me great pleasure to share the following account by my
writer friend and
RP colleague, Jeff Floddin who is based in Chicargo.
Even though
we have only
met across Cyberspace, one lovely gift that RP has brought into
my life at
least, is the sharing of
our stories: the
good, the bad and the sometimes outrageously funny incidents
that can catch us
off guard with having such an eye condition.
Jeff’s
reflections of how he
adapts to losing his eyesight are like little gems of wisdom:
his stories often
move me and catch me off guard too. As we approach April 1st,
I
couldn’t think of a more fitting (and true) story that is bound
to tickle your
funny bone!.
*
We
get on the elevator, Sherlock
and me. Sherlock is my guide dog.
We’re
at the third floor of
five. We want to go down to the first floor.
The
door slides shut.
Nothing happens.
I
press the bottom
button. The door slides open.
“I
need to learn Braille
better,” I tell Sherlock.
I
run my fingertips along the
wall. I think I find the Braille for number 1.
I
press the button next to
it. The elevator goes up.
“I
need to learn Braille
better,” I tell Sherlock.
I
stand tall and the buttons
sit low. It’s hard to read Braille with my finger upside down,
so I drop
to all fours. Sherlock thinks it’s playtime.
He
puts his elbows on my back
and stands on his hind legs.
Then,
God bless him, he
begins to hump me. He has assumed the Southwestern Sidewinder
position.
While
I’m thinking how I need
to learn Braille better, I say to Sherlock, “Get off my back.”
The
elevator stops and the
door opens.
A
woman gasps. I crawl
forward. She steps backward.
I
ask, “Can you help me?”
But
I hear her heels run away
from me, down the hallway.
The
door closes.
Sherlock dismounts
I
press another button.
The alarm sounds. I press the button above that one.
The
elevator goes down.
“This is security,” booms a big voice from a small speaker.
“What
is your problem?”
I
scramble to my feet, stand
tall, remain mute and pat Sherlock’s head.
The
door opens. We’re
at the first floor.
I
command, “Sherlock,
forward!”
The
crowd parts. We
stride across the marble floor. We project nonchalance.
I
can tell what the people
are thinking.
They’re
thinking, “Look at
that self-assured blind man and his well-trained guide dog.”
“This
is security.” That
voice again.
We
keep walking. The
voice gets far away. “What is your problem?”
“Problem?”
I ask Sherlock.
“What
problem? I just
need to learn Braille better, that’s all.”
*
NOTE:
Sherlock was
Jeff’s Seeing Eye dog from 2003 to 2010. A version of this
story was
published in Kaleidoscope magazine in 2012.
It also appeared on
Jalapeños in
the Oatmeal: Digesting Vision Loss by Jeff Flodin (March 16
2016).
About
Jeff Floddin:
Jeff
was diagnosed with
Retinitis Pigmentosa at age 35. His vision loss did not prevent
him from
moving around the country as he has lived in Rockford, Tempe,
Philadelphia and Chicago.
Jeff received his Bachelor’s degree in International Relations
from Lake Forest
College. He then earned a Master’s degree in social work from
Arizona State
University. He worked in the social work field for 25 years.
Jeff
wrote his first story in
first grade and writing has been his primary vocation for ten
years. He
is currently working on a short story collection about vision
loss. Jeff
has completed two books, as of yet unpublished. His stories have
appeared in
“The Rockford Review” and his letters in “ChicagoTribune.”
1 comment:
Hilarious!
Post a Comment