The Castaway Hotel: Book 4

Pat was handling the situation quite well and trying very hard to do things for himself, although there were occasions when he did require some assistance. The first few nights he woke me every time he needed to use the toilet and I would lead him over, line him up with the bowl or help him find the seat, since that was easier for him. After he finished, I would lead him back to bed and help him get in.

Over time, things changed though. Eventually, Pat decided he could count the number of steps between the two rooms and then find his way there on his own. He would also use his hands to feel his way around, so he could be more independent. About the only thing I was required to do for him now was to put the salve on his face and bandaging his head. He did eventually inform me he was trying his best to function on his own, just in case he did have permanent damage, and I was encouraged by his practical approach to his situation. Finally, the time came for the first of his two appointments and I drove him to see the doctor who had treated him in the emergency room.

When we arrived at the doctor’s office, we continued to use the same procedure we had been following for Pat to get around. He placed his hand on my arm and followed my lead, while I informed him about anything out of the ordinary, which might give him difficulty. We did get more than a few stares as we walked along and I was glad Pat couldn’t actually see what was going on around us. Once we entered the office, we sat in the waiting room for another fifteen minutes, while I tried to keep Pat engaged in conversation, so he couldn’t dwell on his situation or worry about the outcome of this visit. Eventually, one of the nurses paged us and led us back to one of the examination rooms. I helped Pat sit on the examination table, while I took a seat in the chair. It was about ten more minutes before the doctor also arrived.

He entered still glancing at Pat chart, but stopped long enough to say hello and ask Pat how he’d been doing and feeling. Pat told him that he’d been doing fine and hadn’t had a lot of pain or discomfort. The doctor then asked me how he was handling everything and I told him that Pat had been a real trooper and was handling everything very well. The doctor congratulated him for not letting this get him down and then began to cut off this latest set of bandages I’d applied. He examined Pat’s face thoroughly, carefully inspecting all of the areas affected by the chemicals, and then he turned to speak with both of us.

“The skin tissue is coming along nicely, but there will be some scarring on his face, especially around his eyes. We may be able to correct some of it with plastic surgery later, but that will be entirely up to the two of you. I’m not qualified to tell you about his eyes, but you should be getting that information from his ophthalmologist, when you go to that appointment. Do either of you have any questions you’d like to ask me?”

I let Pat go first and he asked the doctor to point out on his face how much area he was talking about. Pat explained he couldn’t really tell from my caring for him, because I spread the cream on surrounding areas too. Agreeably, the doctor used his finger to trace around the damaged locations and Pat was somewhat relieved when he discovered it was a smaller area than he’d suspected.

After that, Pat asked the doctor how the damaged skin could be repaired and how long it would take. The doctor answered him very honestly, gave him the information he wanted, and even anticipated a couple of future questions and answered them too. I could tell Pat was absorbing all of this information and envisioning the process in his mind, while deciding whether he wanted to go through what was being described, sometime in the future.

Most of what I had wanted to know had already been asked and answered, so I merely pursued a few details concerning the proposed treatment, such as how much recovery time would be needed after the procedure, possible side-effects and if there were any time restrictions on when we had to decide whether or not to have it done. Once we had all of our answers, the doctor bandaged Pat’s head once more and we headed home.

We were both fairly quiet on the drive back, as each of us were digesting the information we had been given and considering the ramifications of following the proposed course of treatment. I know Pat was considering it from the point of view of how he would look and if he would still be attractive to the girls. However, I was looking at it from the perspective of whether it would improve the quality of his life, in both work and social environments, and whether it would change his perception about himself and how he might approach his future. Before I knew it, I was pulling into our driveway. We’d made the trip back home without either of us realizing it.

Once we got inside, I decided it might be the appropriate time to put our cards on the table. “Pat, I know you’ve been thinking about what the doctor suggested, but have you made a decision yet?”

“I think I’d like to have it done, Dad, especially if I get my eyesight back,” he explained. “I don’t want people looking at me and thinking I’m some kind of freak or monster.”

“I can understand that,” I agreed, “but the doctor admitted there will still be some scarring.”

“I know, but as long as we can keep it to as little as possible,” he informed me. “I know it’s not going to be easy either way, but I think I can handle it better if it’s not too obvious. I just wonder how the girls are going to react to me now.”

“Pat, those who would let something like this effect their judgment of you probably aren’t worth the effort anyway,” I explained. “Those who are worth it will be able to look past those small imperfections and see the great guy underneath. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, with the concerned obvious in his tone. “I’m almost afraid to go back to school, because I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Well, you won’t be going for a while anyway, so it’s nothing to get too upset about just yet,” I offered. “I can also arrange for tutors to come to the house so you can keep up with your classmates, that is until you’re ready to cope with attending school again.”

“Can you get tutors I don’t already know?” he inquired. “I don’t want anyone who knows me to see me yet.”

“Well, I think you’re being overly sensitive about this,” I suggested, “but, yes, I can arrange it, if it’s what you truly want.”

“I do, Dad, and I’ll love you even more if you can do this for me,” he confirmed.

“Oh, a bribe, huh?” I teased. “Well, it isn’t necessary and I’ll do it for you anyway. I’ll set it up to begin sometime next week, depending on how soon I can find people who are qualified.”

Hearing that, Pat asked me to move closer, which I did, and once I was by his side, he reached out and gave me an energetic hug. I thanked him, hugged him back and then I went out to fix us both a bite to eat.

Later that afternoon, once the others returned home, they wanted to know what Pat found out, so I let him field all of their questions. His brothers urged him to have that plastic surgery done, after also reassuring him it didn’t look bad as it was. They just offered it would make it look even better, which they assumed was what he wanted. He listened to everything they had to offer and told them he’d consider their input when the time came.

When they asked about his eyes, he explained he had an appointment with the ophthalmologist tomorrow, so we’d find out more about that situation then. The boys were all very good telling Pat about everyone who had asked about him and they had even gone to his classes and got his class work for him. Without my urging, the boys had decided to help him with his assignments, with each volunteering to assist him in their best subject. They would read the texts to him and explain the lessons he had missed, while trying to utilize Pat’s other senses to make up for his lack of sight. The hardest subject to do this with was math, as it’s hard to visualize formulas and problems you can’t see.

Later that evening, about an hour after dinner, the doorbell rang. This surprised me, because as far as I knew we weren’t expecting any visitors. After thinking about it briefly, we assumed it might be one of Pat’s friends, a teacher or someone else from school. Nick happened to be nearest the door at the time, so he answered it, and I heard him talking to someone, but couldn’t make out whom it was or what the person was saying. It was only a short time later before Nick invited the person in and led him in.

The visitor was a young man and was following closely behind Nick, but I could tell he was more than a little nervous about being here. He did manage to walk up in front of where Pat was seated, while Nick announced his name. That’s when I learned our guest was the boy who was responsible for the accident in the chemistry lab.

“Man, I’m really sorry for what happened,” he told Pat. “It was all my fault, cuz I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing. I was in too big a hurry and I’m really sorry you got hurt because of it. I hope you’re gonna be all right.”

“I’m not sure about that yet,” Pat told him, “but I know it was an accident and you didn’t do it on purpose. I just wish you’d realized beforehand that there are just some places you can’t rush or let your mind wander.” The boy seemed hurt by Pat’s comment, but didn’t argue the point. I think he knew Pat’s analysis was correct.

Pat must have also realized how harsh his words might have sounded, because he softened his tone a little when he continued. “Of course, maybe I shouldn’t have taken my safety glasses off before I put everything else away either. If I’d still had them on, I don’t think anything serious would have happened to me.”

“Maybe, but I’m really sorry dude,” the boy replied. “I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I am really sorry. I’ve felt awful about this since it happened, especially when I found out it had burned your face and eyes like that.”

“The doctor said I will have some scars on my face, even with plastic surgery, but we won’t know about my eyes until tomorrow,” Pat explained.

“I hope you get good news then,” the boy offered. “I really feel terrible man, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I don’t hate you,” Pat offered, “and I’ll forgive you on one condition.”

“What’s that?” the boy asked, looking even more nervous.

“It’s like my dad always says,” Pat began, “it’s okay as long as you’ve learned from your mistake.” I grinned when he said that, but I also heard snickering from some of the other boys. However, the boy seemed to take Pat’s comment in stride and shook his head in agreement. “I did dude, cuz I don’t want to feel this bad again,” he finally replied. “Can I do anything to help or to make up for this?”

“Well, maybe you can help me with future labs and explain what I can’t see,” Pat suggested.

“I will, but I hope you will be able to see again,” he replied, “and then we can just be lab partners or something. I am really sorry about this.”

“I know and you don’t have to keep saying that. You’re forgiven,” Pat reiterated. “Who knows, it could have been me who did it to someone else, instead of you. I’ll be fine and my dad will take care of everything.” The last comment really hit me hard. I appreciated Pat’s confidence in me, but I hoped he realized there is only so much I can do. I think he’d be better off putting his faith in God, but I’ll assist him as much as I can. I just pray I don’t end up disappointing him, if I only take care of the things I can control.

The boys were all very good with Pat, especially Dustin, his former rival in love. I think he still had some tinges of guilt over that altercation and tried to make up for it now. He offered to help Pat to his room and told him that he’d assist him during the night too, but Pat said he wasn’t ready to cope with the stairs just yet. He told Dustin he’d spend another night or two with me, but thanked Dustin for his offer and advised him he might take him up on it soon. Dustin merely grinned and replied that would be fine, anytime he was ready.

When Friday rolled around, Pat and I got ready to go to his appointment with the eye doctor. Once we arrived there, we ended up going through a similar wait to see the doctor, although this time I brought some magazines with me, so I could read the articles to Pat and discuss what they were about. This caused the time to pass better today, than at the other office. Once the doctor had Pat seated in the chair, we both held our breath while the doctor made his observations. He continually asked Pat questions as he examined him, and when he finished, he asked me if I would join him in the other room.

“Dad, please,” Pat pleaded, “I want to know what he’s going to say. I’ll be okay. I can handle it.”

“If that’s what you think, then I agree with you,” I responded. “You’re old enough and mature enough for this, so that’s what we’ll do.” The doctor looked at me as if I had three heads, shrugged his shoulders and then stood like a statue for a moment. I decide he was still unsure about doing it this way, so I reacted first.

“Doctor, I’ve always told my boys that I’ll treat them as adults, as long as they acted as such. Pat has and deserves to be privy to what you’re going to tell me.”

“Hey, if you two agree, who am I to argue?” he countered, although he still didn’t look convinced. “All right, this is what I’ve discovered. Pat has received damaged to both corneas, but the damage is much worse to the right eye. Unfortunately, I doubt he’ll ever have any vision in that eye again, because the damaged he sustained is too extensive to be reversed. However, the left eye offers some hope. I do believe he’ll have limited vision in that eye, such as being able to see shadows and vague shapes, although he will still be classified as being legally blind in that eye too.” I saw Pat tense up after hearing this and watched as he tried to maintain his composure. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you, but there has just been too much damage, so I can’t offer you more hope than that.”

At that moment, I saw Pat slowly exhale, but only out of necessity, and I could see the disappointment etched upon his face. After a couple of minutes, he regained his composure and then tried to find out exactly what he’d have to endure. He began to question the doctor about the extent of the damage done to each eye and examined the details about how much eyesight he might still have in his left eye, while I just sat and listened. Pat was very thorough, even asking the doctor about the smallest detail concerning his options, while verifying just how much he’d be able to see and do. I could tell the doctor was quite impressed with how Pat handled himself and possibly now agreed with our decision to include him in on this information. For the most part, I let the two of them discuss everything with each other and I just sat back and listened. When Pat had asked all he could think of at that time, he became very quiet and seemed to be considering the information he had just received. Just before we left, the doctor spoke to me.

“I wasn’t sure I agreed with you when you first wanted to include Patrick in on this discussion,” he admitted, “but I now realize you know your son very well. I would never have expected a boy his age to be able to deal with his emotions and the ramifications of what I told him, and still be able to think clearly and ask some very pertinent questions. I think both of you should be complimented, him for his maturity and you for doing such a fine job of raising him.”

“Thank you, doctor, but I can’t take all the credit for that,” I informed him. “Pat has only been with me for a few years and came to me with a certain amount of maturity. He proved that to me early, by dealing with some problems within the family after he first arrived. Besides, I suspect he’ll recover quicker and more fully if he is involved and has some control over what is going to happen to him.”

“Well, regardless of who guided him, he is a remarkable young man and I will do everything within my power to help him,” the doctor acknowledged. “I want both of you to take care and I’ll see you again in another week. Just have the receptionist set up your next appointment as you leave.”

We thanked him, made the appointment and started home. In the van, Pat didn’t speak at first. He just seemed to be mentally reviewing what he had been told. Eventually I spoke to him. “Anything I can help with?” I asked, hoping to get him to open up a little.

“Nobody can help me with this, I know that now,” he replied. “I’m going to be blind and the only thing anyone can do now is to teach me how to be a good blind person.” He began to sob, although I didn’t see any tears, and I reached over and placed my hand on his leg, trying to comfort him. “Why did this have to happen to me, Dad? I wasn’t doing anything wrong and I didn’t cause it. Why do I have to be the one who’s blind now?”

“I don’t have an answer for that,” I offered. “It was just an unfortunate accident. It could have happened to anyone.”

“Then why didn’t it?” he countered. “Why did it have to happen to me? Am I a bad person? Is that why this happened to me?”

“No, Pat, you’re not a bad person,” I told him. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“I don’t know if I can do this, Dad,” he sobbed out. “I guess I never considered how much I relied on my eyes until I didn’t have them any more.”

“It is very easy to take something like that for granted,” I admitted, “but you can do fine without them. You’ve already proven that to an extent, as you’ve done things for yourself since the accident, without too many problems.”

“But I didn’t know I was ALWAYS going to be blind then!” he exclaimed. “Dad, I don’t know how blind people live this way and I’m not sure if I can do it.”

“Well, I guess it’s probably is easier for those who have been blind since birth or became blind at a very young age, as they might not be able to fully understand or appreciate what they are missing,” I offered, “but those who lose their eyesight later in life can end up doing just as well. They can still lead productive and fulfilling lives.”

“I know, but they must be special people,” he countered. “It would take a very strong person to cope with something like this, or losing their speech, hearing, a limb, or becoming paralyzed. Having to cope with any of those problems would be hard to adjust to and I’m not sure I can do it. All I can think about now is how most of the things I like to do won’t be the same now, because I can’t see. Either I won’t be able to do them or I can no longer do them the way I want to.”

“I can understand how you feel and I can empathize with you’re concerns,” I agreed, and then paused as I tried to come up with an argument that might also give him some degree of hope.