First Sight

Forty-eight years ago a baby was born blind in Montgomery, Ala. She grew up, married a man named Wagoner, bore a son whom she could touch but never see. Lately, ill, she was taken to the charity hospital at Colfax, La. The doctors told her they thought they might, even now, operate and make her see.

Last week, bandages were removed and Mrs. Wagoner did see. Her first remarks are not only a human document, but illustrate that the consequences of such operations may be as important to psychology as to personal happiness. Mrs. Wagoner described her sensations as follows:

"I clenched my hands and tried not to scream. ... I opened my eyes, and I saw. It was his [the doctor's] face. Think of it! Two eyes and a nose and a mouth, just as I had felt them all these years. . . .

"I stand at the window and I see automobiles and the wheels turning and smoke coming out of chimneys and people walking around, and I can't believe it. Think of seeing my son. Do you know, the nurses had to tell me what things were. I would ask: 'What is the long, pointed thing out there?' and the nurse would say, 'That's a church steeple.' I've been going to church all my life and didn't know a church steeple."

Although she can now see, she still has the habit of reaching out to touch visitors and passing her hands over objects to determine their size and position.