A vision-impaired
person of sound mind experiences
phantom images (visions) in
their visual field.
The Foundation previously shared the piece Phantoms by Australian poet, David Rowbotham, which appeared to speak directly to the CBS experience. We continue the poetry theme with a recent offering from Canadian doctor, Harald Gjerde, who is nearing the completion of his formal training in ophthalmology. If Dr. Gjerde's poem is any indication, then it might just signal that the new wave of eye specialists will be well-versed in CBS and ensure the syndrome is given coverage during the patient's eye consultation.
With the kind permission of the author and the Canadian Medical Association (who originally published this work), Dr. Gjerde's poem is presented below. Alternatively, if you would prefer to hear an audio description of the poem read by the author himself, please click here.
I know they're not real, what I'm seeing.
But they look real.
Nobody believes me;
They think I'm crazy ” le fou they secretly call me,
Just because I see things they don't.
Now I'm in this hospital ¦ this institution.
They say I have les cataractes
And that I'm blind.
I beg to differ ”
I see many things scattered about in this room.
How can my eyes not be working
If I can still see?!
Let me show you the world through my eyes,
And you be the judge.
When the candles get lit,
I see a bright scatter, a flash.
The flicker from the flames makes the world move
And lights up a tapestry on the wall.
The colours that paint the rolling hills of Bretagne,
So vivid, so green.
When I ask the nurses about it,
They say there is no tapestry, just a white wall.
They keep pushing medications on me.
I believe them, since no one seems to see it.
Mais, mon Dieu! ” It looks so real!
I get taken outside for some fresh air,
And it is extremely busy:
Horses and carriages transporting goods and people,
The mud kicking up behind,
With emaciated, stray dogs roaming the roads.
I can see the beads of sweat on the merchants,
And practically reach out and pet the strays ¦
The hospital workers do not take notice.
Their pace is much slower than the commotion.
They must either truly not care,
Or the horses, carriages, dogs do not actually exist.
Their profession precludes the first ”
I must be wrong then.
In my old age, I'm not crazy,
But the line between réalité and imagination blurs.
Red birds, yellow birds, brown birds;
I see them inside, flying and chirping,
Yet birds don't live in hospitals.
The gentle, grassy hills are around me
With a small village in the distance,
Not unlike the tapestry on the wall;
Only there is a family of rabbits now racing across.
Clearly not a hospital.
Occasionally, sa Majesté le roi Louis XV comes to visit;
Except I know ce n'est pas sa Majesté
Because his face looks drawn in
With ink from a swan's quill.
I cannot read the newspaper anymore,
But I can count the jewels on his crown while he's here.
In this hospital room.
Bonjour!
A figure comes into my view.
I can tell it's my nurse. She's smiling.
A bird ” a small sparrow, it looks like ”
Is yelling obscenities from her shoulder.
The nurse is obviously oblivious.
Hilarious.
Temps pour vos médicaments, Monsieur Bonnet.
eSansPro-Regular;">Alas, they still think I'm crazy.
le fou the fool; crazy
Bretagne Brittany, the northwestern province in France
Mais, mon Dieu! But, my God!
sa Majesté le roi Louis XV His Majesty King Louis XV
ce n'est pas sa Majesté it is not His Majesty
Temps pour vos medicaments, Monsieur Bonnet Time for your medications, Mr. Bonnet
In June 2019, the World Health Organisation (WHO) formally recognised Charles Bonnet syndrome as a distinct clinical condition. The syndrome was included within the latest version of the International Classification of Diseases (ICD). The ICD is like a clinical guidebook for all health conditions. This updated eleventh edition (ICD-11) is the first revised version since 1990 (ICD-10).
The new ICD -11 takes formal effect as of January 1, 2022 and will apply to clinicians worldwide. Hopefully this official recognition of CBS will lead to a global increase in the identification and diagnosis of Bonnet syndrome. Perhaps it may also lead to other initiatives such as targeted health policies and funding allocated for research into an effective treatment.
If you would like to view the actual listing within the ICD-11, please click here.
The Foundation is fortunate to be able to share another poem dedicated to Charles Bonnet syndrome (CBS). On this occasion, the author is Delany Lemke whose work was originally published in the journal, Red Cedar Review, in 2018.
We gratefully acknowledge both Red Cedar Review and the author herself for giving permission for this work to be shared with the wider CBS community.
CHARLES BONNET SYNDROME by Delany Lemke
My face is permanently fifteen
in my grandmother's memory.
All her possessions
uselessly small.
Her glasses
do almost nothing.
Though sometimes,
from her window
she sees dancing women
wearing floral headscarves
out on the water.
She can count their eyelashes,
the petals on the fabric.
She sees their feet
striking the jetties
or their ankles rising
from the sandbar,
eyes like teacups
tasting the lake.
She wonders why these spirits
would come to haunt
her dead eyes.
She tells no one.
Delany Lemke is a Michigan poet currently pursuing a Master of Fine Arts (MFA) at the University of Alabama. Her poems can be found in issues of Homology Lit, Juxtaprose, and 30 N. You can follow her mostly mundane life and catch any new publications at @delovelylany on Twitter.
David Rowbotham (1924 - 2010) was an Australian journalist and poet of national repute. His poetry took off much later in his life and his published works were formally recognised when he won the Patrick White Award in 2007. He passed away three years later at the age of 86.
Just months before his passing, he had a poem published entitled Phantoms. Here is an excerpt from that poem:
I see phantoms
They are new towns in a long tomb
They crowd the room
Whether I dream or wake.
Their world is infinite,
They multiply,
Only the dead are sinister:
I see only because of them.
They are my blinding eyes:
Eyeless phantoms, sly moving shrouds,
Perpetual eyeless speechless things
And enemy slings I'm living through.
What strikes one is how these lines - as well as the title - hint that David may well have been describing his personal experience of Charles Bonnet syndrome.
His daughter, Jill Rowbotham, confirmed to the Foundation that her father lived with macular degeneration and glaucoma and was 'almost blind towards the end of his life'. However, there was no diagnosis of CBS given at the time nor did she (or her sister) note any comments from her father that may have indicated he lived with the syndrome.
Even so, the vividness of his descriptions in this poem seems to point to experiences that many in the CBS community could relate to. This excerpt is shared with the generous permission of his daughters.
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