Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own them.
Notes: This is part of a series, each one focused around a different sense. The first one was called Touch, now this one is about Sight. The other sixth senses will follow, along with the 'Sixth Sense"
My thanks to Silverchipmonk for the idea.
Sight
I've counted the ceiling tiles many times over the last few days. Either I'm adding them up wrong or they keep disappearing, but the number keeps change each time I count. I'm putting most of it down to the drugs I'm on. It's hard to concentrate when they're running through your veins at high speed telling it a hundred different things at once, sleep; pee, take the pain away, breath easier.
Although the one thing the drugs have yet to do is make my surroundings more interesting. For the last two days I've been forced to lie flat on my back because I over did it a little the other day and pulled some muscles in my abdomen. Now I'm forced to stare at the same thing all day.
Sight can be seen as a vital sense, but when the only view you get is white on white with the odd bit of grey, you might as well not have eyes at all. A harsh way of looking at things, but one thing I miss so much about the outside world is all the wonderful things there are to see. I even miss things like gazing at the grass; my window over looks the car park.
Sleeping helps, closing my eyes and turning the world black, but that only helps when dreaming is closely followed. I've slept so much over the past weeks; I'm finding it hard to sleep right now. Every time I close my eyes they just spring back open again.
The only option left open to me is to use my imagination. I see the room as dull, but in my minds eye it doesn't have to be that way. The walls could be a nice shade of…blue. A calming shade, like the sky on a spring morning. The ceiling can stay the same colour, but there could be things hanging off it like, mobiles with little toy cars.
Okay, now I feel like a baby lying in a cot.
Instead of mobiles there could be a dream catcher. Those are decorative and I could use one to chase away all the nightmares.
The curtains could by a subtle colour, like beige or maybe tan and they could have patterns on. Swirls or stripes, just anything besides blinds.
There's not a lot of shelf space, but what room I do have is already taken up with a lot of get well soon cards and the odd stuffed toy. The cards are quite amusing, but the humour is quite subdued. None of them are related to cars, which saddens me. Of course that's where my imagination comes in again. Instead of just ordinary cards they could be huge and covered with every colour paper streams and the pictures on the front are all smiles and laughter instead of sad bears passing flowers to one another.
You're supposed to give flowers to sick people, it's one of those unwritten rules, but there's not a single one in my room. My partner says it's because of his allergies, but I'm guessing it's something more than that. He's probably afraid that even something as simple as a flower could be bad for my healing lungs or something equally as silly.
Now that I think about it, there's no good way to change this room to make it better, because I don't want to be in here, period. Most of the sights I want to see are all outside my window, and nothing can bring them to me, but there is one sight that does brighten up my dreary day. One sight that gives my brain reason to keep the sense and tolerate the bland stimuli.
Hutch has just entered the room. He's smiling, something that doesn't happen too often these days, unless he's faking it. He's brought alone a plant, which I recognise as being from out of his greenhouse. The colour is a foreigner in my drab little world, but it is most welcome. I smile and give my thanks, but I know the words aren't needed to let him know just how much the gift means to me. He can see it in my eyes. I guess this sense has more use than I thought.
The End