It was eight years ago today that I took my Kia into a tree while going 60. Yep, it's that maudlin time of year again! Hard to believe that the time has flown so fast.
Back when I was dating, about eight months after the accident, I had great difficulty figuring out when to tell my dates about what had happened. Too soon and you lose any possible focus and simply become 'that half blind guy'. Too late and you've mispresented yourself. Seriously, I had nightmare visions of my medical stuff coming out on the honeymoon! After much consideration I figured on three dates or two weeks, whichever came first. That felt about right.
For years I've been trying to figure out how to tell Relia. After much consideration here, I've just avoided it. She knows that I can't smell things and frankly that is a much bigger handicap than the monocular thing. Every once in a while she tries to kiss my nose and make it better. She seems genuinely surprised when that doesn't work.
This week she asked why my nose doesn't work. I told her that I got hit on the nose and she really, really wanted to know about what hit me. And I don't want to tell her yet. I don't want her to think of cars as inherently dangerous. Both because I want her to feel safe and also because (maybe selfishly) I don't want to talk about my accident every time we go somewhere.
So I'm still tap dancing around it. With any luck I can keep this up for another year or two when she'll be mature enough to better understand it. Again, this feels about right.
I'm not worried about Felix or any future children. She'll make sure that they know about it and it will simply be a part of who their father is. C'est la vie!