Helping Others Helps

I outstretch my hand out in front of me to try and catch the falling cereal box, which had fallen off the shelf as I bumped into it walking into the kitchen. My hand feels the wind from the box, as my hand was a few inches off. I wonder which cereal fell. Maybe it was the cereal I had aimed to knock down in the first place. I reach down and feel for the box. It wasn’t to my left or right, so I take a step forward and —crunch— my foot crushes the cereal. My fingers feel around for the opening of the box, and struggle to open the bag inside. My fingers pull out what I think is a square piece? I pop it in my mouth, and suddenly I know what cereal I am holding. The taste of cinnamon dances on my tongue, and I get a small glimpse of something familiar. I try to recall what the box looks like, the color of the letters, and the cartoon on the back.

“You could have asked me for help,” I hear my mothers voice behind me and instantly I wonder how long she had been watching. I pick up the cereal quickly and turn around.

“I can do it myself!” I practically shout, in awe that I come across as that incompetent. I’m an adult, but ever since the surgery she is treating me like a child. It has only been a month since I had lost my sight completely, unexpected in surgery, but a year since I had been diagnosed with Macular Degeneration.

“I can give you a hand to the table, if you’d like” I hear her again. “I know it’s hard to get to the table”, I could hear the pain in her voice, no doubt from watching me struggle.

I shrug in her direction, imagining her face as I turn her down again. I can feel my mothers eye’s on me as I grab my spoon and eat my cereal. I couldn’t blame her. I am not only holding myself back, but holding her back as well. She was in the middle of her life and I just showed up, helpless and alone. As if having to drop out of college just before graduating because I could not SEE, wasn’t enough, now I am also the center of everyone’s pity. With no college, no life, no TV, my life is empty.

The doorbell rings, snapping me back to the kitchen table. I hear my mom get the door, as she walks down the hall, I try to listen to find out who it is, hiding my face as much as possible. But from her bear hug embrace as she walked right up to me, I could tell it was Pippa. I immediately relaxed—it is my best friend. Having met on the first day of an unfamiliar college together, we were fast friends. After the accident, she visited me when she could, even though she was still enrolled in college. She would always bring me a special surprise, whether it was a CD of music, a treat, or just a fun pair of socks. It was comforting to know that although my social life died, my true friendships stayed strong.

She takes my hand and as I reluctantly follow her, I try to feel what I am passing, to know where we are going. We sit on my bed, in silence for a minute.

Suddenly I hear the sound of tears, and I reach over and give Pippa a hug. She hugs me back, and cries for a minute. As I comfort her, I forget my problems, and forget my self pity. I listen as she explains.

Through her sobs, I make out a few words, “Today class was really hard…” I miss some mumbles about an unfair teacher and a low test grade. “...and I” she pauses every few words to gulp for air between sobs. “...did not do well at all on this test, even though I studied really, really, really hard. It’s just that I put in so much effort, but my grade does not reflect all my hard work for that class,” She sobs, and I squeeze her tighter.

As she talks through her daily anxieties, and cries her heart out about her flaws that she cannot fix, she starts to calm down.

“You know what?” I say reassuringly, “you are going to need to forget about your setbacks to keep living your life”, and for some reason I feel like I am not just referring to Pippa and her problems as I speak.

“You are so right, Kate! Thanks for your advice and listening to me,”  I start to hear the bright, happy Pippa that I’m used to. Just from being able to help Pippa with her problems, and listen to her talk, has given me a sense of value, in that I can help her, and not alway be the one receiving others help.