This story, which begins with me sitting on my father’s knee, explores my father’s blindness and the effect it had on our family.
“My parents schlepped all over Boston looking for answers. Not one doctor connected the eye problem with the hip problem. In the end a woman doctor prescribed a year of bed rest. Up once a day to use the bathroom and once a week for a shower. Special exercises and as many aspirin as he could tolerate until his ears began to ring. For my father the limit was twenty-one. He taught himself to weave, played gin rummy with my mother. His vision was fading and the doctors encouraged him to learn Braille. A year later, when he got out of bed, the pain and swelling in his joints was gone. He was still able to recognize his cards, but within six weeks all he could see was light and dark.”
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