[sayht]

sight

noun

the power or faculty of seeing; perception of objects by use of the eyes; vision. (http://www.dictionary.com/browse/sight)

For most of my adult life, I have tried to consider the impression of my often risqué actions, as well as the consequence of my sharp tongue. I have also contemplated my own views and how they have changed through time and experience.

I can recall only a few moments of thought that were devoted to the faculty of seeing. And now – I can’t see. I am blind, legally. My eyes work just the same and are still a very Irish green; however the portion of my brain that processes my vision is now mush – thanks to a stroke. My field of vision allows me to see slivers of the world. Slivers that are approximately an inch wide and only on the left.

I am nearly one year post-stroke. I continue working to repair the physical damages. Beyond the blindness and right side weakness, the enduring affects are cognitive. Short-term memory loss and what is called asphasia also remain. Asphasia is difficulty expressing oneself, speaking and understanding. (http://stroke.org)

At home, my limitations are barely noticeable. I know my way around the house. My family is patient. I am comfortable and trust them explicitly. I move through my days without incident (most of the time) and they give me the time necessary to complete a thought or finish a sentence.

When I venture out of the house, however, it is a completely different story. Although I have been told that I "don’t look blind", I feel as though my impairment is worn atop my head like an enormous decorated hat suitable only for the Kentucky Derby. My new self is strange and is an enormous contradiction of what was once me.