Scary Showers

 

As I was finishing my last blog post, I inadvertently unearthed another horrible memory that I often repress. Why must terrible things happen in the shower? (A close friend of mine has had several scary epileptic seizures from hot showers which have knocked her unconscious and required hospitalization.) One time when I was a pre-teen, about 11 or 12, my family and my brother's friend went on a short trip to a hotel nearby for my dad's work. Most of the details are foggy; I recall my brother's friend vomiting in the car ride from being car sick, and I remember us getting to the hotel. I don't remember what it looked like, what it smelled like, anything. All that I remember is that the next morning I went to take a shower and the hotel lighting and the hot shower affected me so much that as I stumbled out of the shower, my eyes could not focus, and then suddenly I couldn't see. I couldn't see anything and I knew my eyes were open and I started shouting for help and my mom came and I yelled that I was blind and she started screaming for my dad in a panic. It was incredibly terrifying to have known exactly what it was like to see and then believe that in a flash I would be blind forever. I remembered that it wasn't black as I would have expected being blind to be like, but rather a pinkish grey of nothingness. As my parents started making plans to go to the nearest hospital and they led me out of the bathroom, my vision came to. I could not have been more relieved. Perhaps that is subconsciously why I am so drawn to visual arts. Because I know that I am privileged to still have my sight and to still be able to experience the miracle of light and color. This seems like an incredible revelation to me. I hope I can use this newly reacquired positioning of my life to tell a compelling narrative and create an enticing Allegory of Prudence.