Relaxation - Palming with Memory, Imagination. Seeing Black

[ClarkNight]

WHAT PALMING DID FOR A BLIND MAN

(Pop, The Blind Barber)

By EMILY C. LIERMAN

I HOPE and trust that our readers will forgive me for not waiting until my dear old patient could see a little better, or until I was able to accomplish a little more for him, but in this particular case I feel very much like a child, eager to tell of the most thrilling thing that ever happened in my life.
A few months ago, some time in November, this dear old man came to our clinic, led by another man much younger. They had been told by the clerk that he could not receive treatment there because he did not live in the district. However, the nurse in charge, who is dearly loved by all the patients, did not send him away, but asked him to wait until Dr. Bates had finished with his patients and see what could be done. After our patients had been attended to, Dr. Bates had a talk with the old gentleman.
The doctor examined him and found that he had all sorts of trouble with the nerves and muscles of his eyes. Dr. Bates then called me and asked me to look at the patient's eyes and also asked me what we could do for him. There he was, absolutely with no sight whatever, but with a smile that went straight to my heart.

A Faith That Will Not Be Denied

Before I go any further I would like all who read to know that if it had been at all possible, Dr. Bates would not have hesitated for one moment, but would have offered to treat the man himself. But it could not possibly be done because Dr. Bates labors daily, Sundays included, at the rate of sixteen hours a day. These poor people, when they hear of Dr. Bates., come from all over the United States, and we do the best, the doctor included, of course, we can for them.
As the old man held his head up toward our faces waiting to hear us say that he would be able to see again, I made up my mind to make time myself to treat him at our laboratory. Every moment of my time is taken up with our work but there was my lunch hour before clinic on each Saturday that I could devote to his case. I had not the slightest idea that I could ever give him even perception of light or that I would have the intelligence to ever help him see like other people. One could see no iris whatever or pupil in either eye. Each eye had a thick, solid-looking white mass where the iris and pupil should be. But that day we arranged that he should come to see me each Saturday, and that I was to treat him for one hour. I made no promises to him, but said only that I would do all I could for him if he would do his part and carry out the treatment at home.
His age is seventy-four years, I learned, and he is an inmate of the home for the blind in Brooklyn. He said that he was first stricken with blindness in the left eye in the year 1889, and the trouble was neuralgia. In 1898 he was stricken with blindness in the right eye after suffering with chills and fever. During the year of 1898 he could see slightly with the left eye, and until 1920, when his sight gave out completely. He had been treated by noted eye specialists without success.
The first week in December he came to our laboratory, and without thinking, he said, "I am very happy to see you," and I answered very promptly, "And I am happy to see you, also." I found that he was under a terrible tension. The muscles of his arms, especially at the elbows, were so tense that I made up my mind that he would go through some sort of calisthenics with me before we started with the treatment.


Calisthenics at Seventy-four

I called him "Pop" right from the start, and he seemed to like it. Well, you should have seen the poor old fellow throw his hands over his head and try to touch the floor without bending his knees. Of course, he only got half way. Nevertheless, it was a good start. We were very serious in our exercises and to make it appear doubly so to him I went through the exercises with him, guiding him as best I could. I taught him how to palm and to swing his body from side to side as I stood before him, holding his hands, reminding him always to loosen up at the elbows. I told him that anyone could see that he was blind because he stared so much and never seemed to close his eyes, which made his condition worse. So the next thing I taught him was to open and close his eyes often, which we call blinking.
The hour was over and the next time I saw him he was a very happy man. "I have so much to tell you," he said. "The other day, as I went to the washroom I did not feel for the wash basin, but I saw it and I walked over to it. But in my happiness and excitement my vision left me. Why was that, please?" I answered, "You began to strain in your excitement and caused your blindness to return." I encouraged him by saying, "Don't worry, you will be able to see more next time when you are not straining!"
Then, to my surprise, I learned that this dear old fellow has been shaving men's faces by the sense of touch. Before he became blind he was an expert barber. He loves to repeat again and again how he shaved ex-President Taft and other notable men.
Next time he came he was even more interesting. He could not wait to tell me how young he feels now and how he loves to exercise. He gave me a demonstration of how he could touch the floor with his finger-tips without bending his knees, and he did it quite successfully. I was just in the act of praising him for the ability to do such a wonderful trick for a man seventy-four years young, when all of a sudden there was an accident … a button went flying to the opposite side of the room!
It broke off from the back of his trousers as he touched the floor with his finger-tips, and poor old "Pop" was more embarrassed than I was.

But the Treatment Goes On

However, we soon remedied the trouble and started in with our treatment. As he had no perception of light in the beginning I was quite thrilled when he pointed to both windows of our room and showed me just where the curtains were fastened. I placed him in another part of the room and I was thrilled again when he pointed with his fingers to a sunbeam shining on the rug. With this progress to encourage me, I now am striving with him to give him his greatest desire—his real eyesight. I cannot understand as yet just how he does see, but I do notice that the white mass in front of the iris is not quite as thick as formerly. The last time I saw him he told me that while he was shaving a man he suddenly saw the man's face and that he also saw another man walking past him who had entered the room quietly. He also told me that the matron of the home had entered his room and as she passed out, he asked the maid if the matron had on a blueish-gray gown, and the maid, knowing that he was blind, was surprised, as she answered, "Yes, it is a blueish-gray color, your sight must be coming back."
What my poor old "Pop" says now that he is most anxious about is that he may have the pleasure of seeing my face some day. There is a great deal of refinement about my dear old "Pop" and I am always anxious for the hour on Saturday to come to be with him and help him. But, of course, I merely tell him that he must not hope too seriously to see my face for it might make him blind again!
Perhaps some day I will report some further progress made in restoring of this dear old man's eyesight.