Life as Helen Keller

Today as I was obviously leaving work one of the equipment development guys walked by and commented that it was pouring outside. My immediate response was that it certainly smelled like it was. Then, I thought about what I had said. It did smell like rain, but when had I catalogued that fact in my head? The last time I had seen outside, 4 hours earlier through the loading dock, it had been a sunny Kentucky summer's day. But somehow, I knew it was raining, even despite the lack of visuals.

Working in a factory has been excellent for my senses. Between the solid roar from pumping out 40,000 light bulbs an hour and the mandatory ear plugs, all time spent on the factory floor, most of my day, is spent deaf. This has improved my reliance on smell, vibration, humidity and temperature. I can smell when one of the lines is having baker problems, adding a slightly sour smell to the normal industrial oil, metal, and flame odor. Vibrations in the floor can tell me there's a fork truck around the corner, waiting to back over me. Humidity helps me monitor the weather without a window and even lets me know when it's time to go home by dropping if too many people have left the factory, carrying their humid breath with them. More than the others, though, temperature defines a day in the factory. It serves as giant warning signs of where it is o.k. to go and what it is o.k. to touch. It lets me know when a machine has sprung a compressed air leak and lets me know when I'm pushing equipment too hard. Without the input of temperature I would be long dead, burned all over and unrecognizable.

Although I am highly grateful for my heightened senses, it does make me wonder that in trying to prevent a disorder we cause a temporary version of it instead. There is no doubt that daily exposure to the factory noise would make me deaf, but by making myself deaf every day through artificial means, I can, in fact, prevent the permanent hearing loss. Also, I wish that my super senses were not invoked in such seemingly harsh ways. Sure, I have an amazing sense of vibration through the soles of my feet, but I also spend the day without hearing music or even the unique melodies found in voices. I can tell the weather without seeing the sky, but I miss out on the rainbows when I do. I can handle these deprivations for awhile, but eventually, I know I will have to leave this existence. The trade off may not be worth it.