The park was loud, cold, and dark. Small kids ran around playing tag, stirring up the wood chips and mating down the damp grass. My head found its way to a man instructing a boy, or his son, on how to throw a baseball.
My eyes opened;darkness. I try to open them again, if that is possible; same result. What had happened to the bright lights from earlier in the night? And the plain, pail white walls of the hospital? The nice, soft tone of a nurses voice just made me more angry. I could not see the woman talking to me nor would I ever see or hear the now deceased members of my band.
The yell of a young boy breaks my concentration and blank stare into the abyss. The yells later lead to my understanding the boy playing baseball got hit in the face, which had swelled and given him a black eye.
I continued to sit but was startled when a man walked up and started talking to me. His voice unfamiliar but his tone was soothing. He intoduced himself as Ronald Batzcavich, and asked if he could sit and talk. I had no problem with it, but iIhad nothing interesting I wanted to share with a complete stranger. For some reason he kept talking about cold sores and it kind of weirded me out. He explained the theory of life in comparison to the nasty red bump hovering over his lip. Thank god I could not see it but would I be talking to him is I could? would I be looking him right in the face? He told me about ways to remove the sore and the different ointments and creams he could order. Gross dude what the hell is wrong. He told me he could get it fixed if he wanted to at any time and just left. I was heavily Purplexed. Not just at him but what he said. He could fix the problem any time he wanted. Well I could not fix being blind, Could I?