Snippet from "I Can See The Moon But Not The Stars, a Novel Based on True Stories" by Carmela Cantisani and Lee Marcus
1951
“Signora Cantisani, I need to examine the girl as well,” the doctor said.
“Oh, she’s fine. Her eyes are as bright as can be, and she focuses on everything perfectly. No, it’s just Nicola we’re not so sure about,” Rosina explained.
They had decided to bring Nicola to Potenza, capital city of the Baslicata region, to see a specialist. It was probably nothing. Most of the time Nicola zipped around the farm just like Biagio and Maria did. But then there were times when he depended on Maria to help him find things that he had dropped on the ground. It didn’t seem quite right. Though Potenza was an all-day journey, Rosina and Raffaele needed reassurance that their son’s eyesight was close to normal, at least. Or, maybe he needed glasses. Carmelina, well, she was only along for the ride because she was still nursing.
“Please,” he said, and proceeded to examine both Nicola and Carmelina repeatedly until Rosina began to feel uncomfortable, maybe slightly panicked underneath it all. Finally the doctor put his instruments away and turned to the concerned parents. He spoke deliberately, and without expression. “Both of these children suffer from a degenerative eye disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa. It is a condition passed on by a recessive gene to some of the offspring when both parents carry it. This condition cannot be cured. I’m sorry,” he said.
“But,” Raffaele started, “you’re saying…”
“I am very sorry. It displeases me to have to say it, but the evidence is clear. Your children will continue to lose their sight until they are completely blind.”
Rosina couldn’t tell if she was still breathing. The room felt flat, like a photograph, and she just a woman on a chair in the picture. Waiting. There was a doctor and the woman’s husband in the photo, two children. She looked at little Nicola, her clever little boy, then at Carmelina, who had only been along for the ride. Bright eyes, curiosity. “…continue to lose their sight…” she had heard. “…until they are…” Rosina lowered her head. “…completely blind…” She choked back a sob, so… definitely not merely a photograph. They would be blind, her beautiful children. Blind. This doctor could just take those words back. This day would have to be rewound. They would just have to travel backwards, back to the farm, make everything the way it was this very morning. So they were a little uncertain about Nicola—the other doctor had said he’d grow out of it, yes, that was it! Not this. Not her Nicola, not her beautiful Carmelina, who was looking right at her right now with the brightest eyes…
As they left the doctor’s office to head home, Rosina leaned on her husband. Raffaele was lost in his own thoughts. Nicola was chattering on about something, and Carmelina had fallen asleep. How sweet, how innocent she was. What this would mean, the ramifications, were already spinning in Rosina’s mind: more accidents, constant danger, and no schooling!! No learning to read and write, the one thing most lacking in her own life; the thing she had promised herself would never be denied her children. And now these two were going to be blind. God in heaven, what had she done to deserve this?
“Signora Cantisani, I need to examine the girl as well,” the doctor said.
“Oh, she’s fine. Her eyes are as bright as can be, and she focuses on everything perfectly. No, it’s just Nicola we’re not so sure about,” Rosina explained.
They had decided to bring Nicola to Potenza, capital city of the Baslicata region, to see a specialist. It was probably nothing. Most of the time Nicola zipped around the farm just like Biagio and Maria did. But then there were times when he depended on Maria to help him find things that he had dropped on the ground. It didn’t seem quite right. Though Potenza was an all-day journey, Rosina and Raffaele needed reassurance that their son’s eyesight was close to normal, at least. Or, maybe he needed glasses. Carmelina, well, she was only along for the ride because she was still nursing.
“Please,” he said, and proceeded to examine both Nicola and Carmelina repeatedly until Rosina began to feel uncomfortable, maybe slightly panicked underneath it all. Finally the doctor put his instruments away and turned to the concerned parents. He spoke deliberately, and without expression. “Both of these children suffer from a degenerative eye disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa. It is a condition passed on by a recessive gene to some of the offspring when both parents carry it. This condition cannot be cured. I’m sorry,” he said.
“But,” Raffaele started, “you’re saying…”
“I am very sorry. It displeases me to have to say it, but the evidence is clear. Your children will continue to lose their sight until they are completely blind.”
Rosina couldn’t tell if she was still breathing. The room felt flat, like a photograph, and she just a woman on a chair in the picture. Waiting. There was a doctor and the woman’s husband in the photo, two children. She looked at little Nicola, her clever little boy, then at Carmelina, who had only been along for the ride. Bright eyes, curiosity. “…continue to lose their sight…” she had heard. “…until they are…” Rosina lowered her head. “…completely blind…” She choked back a sob, so… definitely not merely a photograph. They would be blind, her beautiful children. Blind. This doctor could just take those words back. This day would have to be rewound. They would just have to travel backwards, back to the farm, make everything the way it was this very morning. So they were a little uncertain about Nicola—the other doctor had said he’d grow out of it, yes, that was it! Not this. Not her Nicola, not her beautiful Carmelina, who was looking right at her right now with the brightest eyes…
As they left the doctor’s office to head home, Rosina leaned on her husband. Raffaele was lost in his own thoughts. Nicola was chattering on about something, and Carmelina had fallen asleep. How sweet, how innocent she was. What this would mean, the ramifications, were already spinning in Rosina’s mind: more accidents, constant danger, and no schooling!! No learning to read and write, the one thing most lacking in her own life; the thing she had promised herself would never be denied her children. And now these two were going to be blind. God in heaven, what had she done to deserve this?
Comments
Post a Comment