Touché

A friend of mine lost her senses of smell and taste in a skiing accident. You should see the look on her face when she eats – willing the aromas and flavors to penetrate her nose and tongue. I’m not cut out for that brand of desperation.

When it comes to hearing, I suffer from a disorder called dysphonia. Certain sounds - like the squeal of a knife blade passing over a porcelain plate, or a person chewing with his mouth open – make me twitch and wish I could disappear through the floor. And yet, when I hear the birds sing, it is balm for my soul. And music! I could never live without music. So, I’ll endure the leaf blowers, the car alarms, and clearing of throats for now.

The gift of sight is TRULY a gift for me. I appreciate beauty where other might not and drink in every sight I see. Daily walks with the dog are like strolls through the corridors of the Uffizi…the colors, the textures, the light and shadows…it’s all so wonderful! The thought of losing my vision is too terrible to imagine.

Ah, but touch? It wouldn’t just be the loss of pain, but also the preservation of my sanity. I go crazy when I feel a hair on me that I can’t get locate and remove. Tags on the collars of my shirts feel like razor blades and make me want to rip off all my clothes (and not in a good way). Would I miss the tenderness of a child’s warm tiny touch, or the caress of a lover? Certainly. But I’d make do, thank you very much.