The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - Jean-Dominique Bauby

This is a book literally told by a blink of an eye. The author lives with the devastating reality of locked-in syndrome. Locked-in syndrome is when the body cannot move or function, but all the higher brain functions are in intact. This happens because of a large stroke in the base of the brain that essentially destroys the roadway in and out of the brain. The patient is alive but 'locked in' the body. It is an awful reality (in my humble opinion) and one that I had to watch unfold in my very care.

Early in 2009, on a travel nurse assignment in Greenville, NC, I personally took care of a 23 yr. old guy with the same diagnosis after a large stroke of his pons. It was an emotional and fragile process as I translated a very rare condition to his friends and family. As a nurse, many patients filter through my life and the ones that stand the test of time tend to have made some major mark on my heart...him being one of them.

I was led to read this book because, at the time, I recommended it to the family as a source of education on 'locked in syndrome', but had never read it myself. The author, being locked-in himself, when he 'wrote' this book, transcribed letter by letter by blinking his left eye. It took months to write this 132 pg. book, but knowing the effort it took to 'write' it makes it an amazing read. The story line is a bit disjointed, more like commentary on his present reality and memories that he reminisced on.

I feel like I gained a reinforced perspective from reading it. It gave me greater empathy towards patients that aren't able to communicate their needs and a flood of gratefulness that I am whole. I recommend it for anyone needing a reality check that whatever their problems are, surely they aren't as bad as they seem.

"Far from such din, when blessed silence returns, I can listen to the butterflies that flutter inside my head. To hear them, one must be calm and pay close attention, for their wingbeats are barely audible. Loud breathing is enough to drown them out. This is astonishing: my hearing does not improve, yet I hear them better and better. I must have butterfly hearing. " - The Duck Hunt, p. 97

"...but this man [ophthalmologist]--who spent his days peering into people's pupils--was apparently unable to interpret a simple look. With a big round head, a short body, and a fidgety manner, he was the very model of the couldn't-care-less doctor: arrogant, brusque, sarcastic-the kind who summons his patient for 8:00 a.m., arrives at 9:00, and then departs at 9:05, after giving each of them forty-five seconds of his precious time." - Voice Offstage, p. 54