The World In Slow Motion

My name is Wilfred Hay. I am 42 and live in Doncaster with my wife Susan and my daughter Cicely and I suffer from a rare neurological condition called Slowmo or sensory delay syndrome.

The easiest way to explain slowmo syndrome is just to say that my brain receives sensory information from my eyes more slowly than other people and so, to me, the world appears slightly slowed down, by at least twenty eight seconds.

For example, if someone is talking to me, it’s a bit like a dubbed foreign movie where their lips move out of synch with the soundtrack; I’ll hear them say something before I’ll see them say it.

I first experienced the effects of the condition when I turned 40; it would start to happen suddenly while I was in the middle of an activity or out socially.

At first, I wondered if I might be going mad because it seemed like a kind of hallucinatory state, like a dream; everything slowing down and appearing to swim.

And, at first, I remember my Doctor, Doctor Aladay, thought it must be stress induced; to be honest he didn’t really know what it was, it being such a rare condition but he gave me a prescription for some mild tranquilizers and suggested that I take time off of work so I arranged with my boss, Calvin, to take a month’s sick leave.

But then the condition didn’t get any better, in fact it got a lot worse; so much so that my wife started to worry that I might have an accident so then my doctor made an appointment for me to see a neurological specialist at my local hospital, Dr Singh and it was him who diagnosed me as suffering from Slowmo.

I have to rely upon the help of a guide dog now; a golden Labrador called Sophie. She sees the world at normal speed and, if an object is moving towards me, she’ll warn me how close it is so that I don’t bump into things.

I often wonder whether there is any upside to my condition.

I remember, at first, just sinking into complete despair, wondering if there was any point going on living but my wife, Susan and my daughter, Cicely have been so supportive for which I feel very lucky and I often just close my eyes and I think, “Well, what if I was blind; people cope with that; people deal with much worse than what I have; my temporal blindness".

And then my wife often tells me that I’m lucky.

“Why do you say that?”, I ask.

“Because time passes everyone else by so fast”, she says, “And you get to hold onto it for longer. You get to see a sunset longer than everyone else”.

And then I look at my wife and my daughter and how beautiful they both are and I know that she’s right and not only that, I look at things more now than I used to; I notice the world more and appreciate it more.

Before, I never really took the time to notice anything but now it’s like the condition has stretched out my life and made it larger.

I’ve even taken up some new hobbies; photography and painting and writing because I have more time on my hands now that my wife’s the only one whose working and because I really want to share how I see the world with other people; people who, because they see everything at normal speed, might miss certain things or not see the beauty in the small or the ephemeral.

I’ve never really been sure about whether I believe in God or in a higher power, but I do believe that I’ve been given a little extra life and though, at first, I wasn’t sure if I could bare going on another day, now I’m determined to enjoy every single moment.