I was in the lead role in our little family before this last accident, but now my dependency on others was overwhelming. The more I realized that my life had changed forever, the more I perceived that Ann would realize the same in her life.
It was a long recovery period, going back and forth to doctors and hospitals, as I had gone through eight corneal transplants, all of which turned out to be failures. Even though Ann was resentful because of the accidents, I do give her credit for her part in my road to recovery.
Her life had taken a radical turn, as I used to be the one in charge of everything. Her stature was small, but she was a strong woman. She had to be, with the sudden responsibilities thrust upon her. I know that she did the best she could with what she had.
I am sure that Ann felt restrained from her regular routine; therefore, our relationship suffered greatly.
There was one thing about Ann that was glaring, and that was her insecurity in just living life. To me, she seemed to feel like she was free-falling, not having a secure financial future in her life with me.
At the same time, I had always felt insecure all my life, not even knowing what my fears were at any given time. Now, as I needed caretaking, I felt like a burden to many. I felt even lower than I did before the accidents.
Slowly, I got better, and I finally got up from the wheelchair and started using crutches again. I started doing things—anything I could—but that was not much. I finally conquered the steps so I could go outside. I did a lot of sitting out there and had much time to think.
Regrets and Shame
I wanted so badly to turn back time. I wanted the good old days when I thought I was free. I mostly had feelings of missing my favorite bar, the place I described in the first chapter.
The feelings were so intense that I had a drive to collect every song that was on the jukebox in that bar from 1973 through 1977, just to relive the memories. It took many years, but I have the whole collection now.
I was trying hard not to be a burden, and I was trying to be active with the boys. With anything I did, I had regrets and shame hanging over me like a dark cloud. I was not feeling good about myself, although I never had, and I felt that I was going backward into a dismal, controlled future.
The one who was in control now was Ann, and I had no choice but to look to her for guidance. Therefore, I became codependent on her. I did a lot of acting as I tried to please her, and it was not easy most of the time. I did have feelings for her and wanted to give her love, but on a daily basis, it was getting harder and harder to cope with her resistance toward me.
Therefore, I inadvertently made a move toward our future without planning it. I took a ride with a relative one day and asked him to stop at a jewelry store. I walked into the store looking like a monster.
Both eyes burned with battery acid, casts on both legs, and crutches. I barely knew the owner, but looking like I did and feeling sorry for me, he gave me a great deal on a diamond ring. I paid him for it and took it home.
I did not plan anything with it, but I knew one thing in my heart. I knew, with my own belief, that with this life change, there would be no other woman on this earth who would want me anymore.
Things were not going very well between us at this time, but everything suddenly changed when she walked into the bedroom where I was. She came in to tell me something, and without me planning it, I lifted the ring to show her.
Her excitement lit up the room. She said, “Let’s go to Vegas and get married.” I said, “Whoa, what brought that on?” My insecurity took over, and her excitement was such a pleasant change that I said, “We might as well.”
The Marriage
We booked a flight to Las Vegas, and we decided to get married in a courthouse. When we were saying our vows in front of a judge, the witness was snoring, with a newspaper draped over his head.
After the wedding vows, we ate dinner, and then Ann surprised me by wanting to go to bed just to sleep. I had extraordinarily little vision, but I found my way downstairs to the blackjack table.
I was quite a sight with these monster eyes, but the server came over to me and asked, “Sir, would you like a drink?” I said, “Sure, could you bring me a scotch on the rocks, please?” She brought it to me. Then I asked, “How much do I owe you?” I was surprised when she said, “The drinks are on the house.”
Obviously, this was my first time in Las Vegas. Well, with the whiskey they freely served me and my lack of vision, the casino tapped me out quickly, and I went back to our room to “sleep” on our wedding night.
Well, the marriage did change our relationship. Ann felt a little more secure financially after the ceremony, but she had just committed to being the spouse of a blind man. I figured that everything in my life was over as far as finding any other relationship in my future, so I was relieved to have been married. Now I had a companion who accepted me for the rest of my life—or so I thought.
Ann had taken charge of everything, as I was helpless, having gone from being fully sighted to eventually going blind. She had many responsibilities, including keeping up the household, paying all the bills, taking me to doctor visits, and handling all activities with our two children.
Shortly after we got married, in 1982, we bought our first home. This was an old home built in 1882 on the highest property in Wayne County. We moved in on July 4. We made many improvements to this home ourselves.
This got me active and busy again, along with Ann. We burned wood through the winter, and we worked hard into springtime. We then decided to have our own child together. Our little boy was born in September of 1983, after my blindness. Therefore, he has never seen me sighted.
At that point, Ann was in total control of everything, and I was dependent on her. Therefore, I was in the “Yes, dear” mode most of the time. At the same time, I felt deep self-pity, trying to cover it up at any given moment.
Besides hitting the bottom in the earlier chapter, I remember another one distinctly. It was in my recliner chair. The normal day in our household was to direct our children to watch TV if they were all home, while Ann was upset over something, complaining to me every time she walked by.
I had a lot of alone time when they were home. I was depressed, to say the least, and I was still drinking beer. That was one of the rules of the house—there always had to be a case of beer on one shelf of the refrigerator. That was part of who I was.
It was getting harder to have Ann bring it home for me, as my drinking was one of the main complaints she had. My argument back to her was very justified in my mind. I told her, “I’m not hurting anybody but myself, so go get me the beer!” This seemed to turn into a weekly argument, but reluctantly, she would bring it home for me.
I developed a daily routine. After dinner, usually around 7 PM, I would wait until the kitchen was empty. Then I would stand in front of the open refrigerator and decide whether to open the first beer or not.
I drank the first one very quietly, then opened the second one. After the second one was down, I opened the third one, and it did not matter to me if she saw me drinking that night or not, for I was off and running by then.
My denial was extraordinarily strong regarding the word “alcoholism.” I was deathly afraid of that word, for it could threaten my drinking beer. I could not understand that. Therefore, I had an attitude of, “Just tell me what you want of me, and I will do it—but my drinking is included.”