Initial Shock:
It was early September. Everything was going well. I'd survived an advanced form of cancer and was in remission for more than four years. I had a new job as a special education teacher. I bought a new house and lived in a new town. Soon after that, I woke up to find my vision was fading away. It literally happened over night. Still, it was only one eye. It wasn't Multiple Sclerosis. It wasn't the cancer. It wasn't a brain tumor, and no, it wasn't any other eye disorder. My eyes were fine, but the optic nerve was damaged by some unknown force. No one could explain why, so the doctors called my plight, “The enigma.”
The Waiting Game:
“Let's wait and see,” they said. “Wait to see what,” I asked? I suppose they wanted to wait and see what would happen next? Three weeks later something did. I lost vision in my left eye this time. Now, I was labeled, “legally blind.” Still, no one could tell me why, and not even six medical specialists, scattered through out the land. I had every test for every possibility known to man, but every one came back as negative. For what? For everything you can imagine, that's what.
According to every test, I was as healthy as a human being can be. My CAT scans were clear, the MRI looked just fine and my blood work came back as normal every time. There was absolutely nothing wrong with me other than damaged optic nerves, which went unexplained.
Once again, they sent me home to, “wait and see.” It's been three years, and I'm still waiting to see something.
The Enigmas:
- I use that phrase quite a bit these days. Initially, my mind refused to accept my new legal blindness. “Sensory deprivation,” is what they called the syndrome. I'd see an American flag flying proudly above my house, even though I hadn't put it out. There was no flag, but I could have sworn I'd seen it there. A dog ran in front of the car where I was a passenger. “Look out,” I'd scream! The driver would have a fright and slam on the brakes, but there was no dog in sight. I thought I'd lost my mind, right along with the vision. Evidently, my mind was going back into its memory bank in a desperate attempt to find something to see. Sensory deprivation is a very strange thing, but it's only the first of many enigmatic ironies.
- It's strange when you can still see some things, but you're still blind legally. According to the law, it means I no longer have the right to drive. Without the right to drive, I found myself stuck in my house. I'm in prison now but I've done nothing illegal.
- Early September is not a good time for a public school teacher to become legally blind. After twenty five years of teaching those labeled as disabled, I'd suddenly become, “one of them.” I could no longer see well enough to read, much less teach my students to read. Familiar faces became unrecognizable, and the simplest tasks became impossible.
- Corrective lenses do nothing to help me see beyond my faded shades of obscurity. Once the optic nerve is damaged, there's no fixing it. I could no longer drive, which meant that I could no longer leave my house without a ride. My family and friends did not live near by.
- I can see, but I'm blind legally. I am able, but I'm labeled disabled. I have an incurable disease, but I'm as healthy as I can be. I think that explains most of my life ironies.
What to do:
How do you find a life when you can't see well enough to drive? How do you go back to normalcy, when your middle name becomes, “strange?” The only explanation I have is to learn to look at life differently. It could be that your sight was lost, so make more room in your mind. When something is lost, something is found. It happens every time. The deaf see better than most. The blind are better listeners. Today, I proudly say, “Since I made more room in my mind, now I'm smarter than you.” With this thought in mind, here's what I do.
I don't try to figure it out. I learned to adjust and sometimes I milk it for all it's worth. I'll give you an example or two.
On flights, I always check the disabled box. Sure, I can see well enough to keep from bumping into anyone, but why walk when I can ride?
I use a handicapped parking sticker when I get a ride anywhere. My driver just loves to take me along. We park in the best spot. I don't have to drive in traffic ever again, and when my driver does, I get to sit back and take a nap.
When I check into hotels, I make sure and show them the sticker too. That way, I get a ground floor room. I'm always placed in the room that's closets to the restaurant, the pool and where all the action is. No one wants me to trip and fall down any stairs, and I can't see the buttons in the elevator.
If you play your cards right, you may never have to cook again. Sure, you should go ahead and try, but if it's not fun, just burn a few things. Someone else will cook for you, I guarantee.
Don't take, “the blind thing,” so seriously. Have some fun now and then. Use one of those “blind people canes,” for lack of a better phrase. Believe me, it's fun to watch people get out of your way when you pass by. They'll be amazed at how well you get around. Be sure and use sun glasses too. Otherwise, they'll wonder why your eyes seemed focused on how stupid they look.
So you see, being blind isn't all that bad. There are some advantages. When you begin to feel invisible, just go up to someone. I promise, they'll begin to shout in your ear. “HOW ARE YOU TODAY?” Sighted people sometimes think that when you've lost your sight, you've also lost your ability to hear. Still, at least you won't feel invisible if people are shouting at you all the time.
Use it, if you must. Get someone else to clean out the tub. Use the blind person cane and part the streets at your command. Watch as everyone paves your way. It's fun to be legally blind sometimes, but take my advice:
Don't tell anyone.
