When my ophthalmologist announced that I had ARMD, (Age Related Macular Degeneration) I didn’t bat an eye. No tears. No hysterics. I had never heard of this disease, nor could I spell its name correctly and only assumed it was curable with eye drops or some other form of medication.
Wow! Ignorance is bliss.
Scientists are still searching for a cure. The cause? A little matter of too many birthdays, I guess. And though I knew my eyesight was in big trouble, I never dreamed of the impact of his diagnosis. No improvement was to be found, I was soon to learn.
“There’s a man fishing out there in the lake,” I commented. “Isn’t this out of open fishing season?” I continued gazing out the window during a breakfast for several friends. All turned and glanced out.
“Where is he?” one guest asked.
What I thought was an angler out in the lake was merely a dead leaf on a rose bush next to our house. My distance perception was shot.
Answering a knock at the door, I chit-chatted for several minutes before realizing it was our next-door neighbor. And most heart-breaking was the day I mistook one of my twin daughters for a complete stranger. Identifying people’s faces is a common problem with ARMD.
I have an off-white-colored cat that matches the walls and fixtures in the kitchen. He delights in hopping onto the counters when we are alone in the kitchen, because that rascal has figured out that I can’t see him well enough to yell him down. The limitations incurred are endless. Though legally blind, I have been most lucky.My son-in-law and daughter secured a Video-eye for me, which enables me to read my mail, the newspapers, and to write my own checks. (For the first time in my life, I wholeheartedly accept my bankers’ figures without trying to verify them myself.) In principle, the video equipment is like a camera which focuses and projects my reading material onto my TV screen in magnified print, enabling me to read it. My computer is also programmed in humongous print for both incoming and outgoing e-mail, which is a real boon.
I reluctantly accepted my doctor’s referral to the Community Services for the Blind and Partially Sighted (CSBPS) and was awestruck at the results. After being examined and acquainted with various forms of helpful magnifying devices, I was led to the office of a computer technician specialist, who left me almost speechless. After our brief introduction, he disclosed he was totally blind, and at the same time demonstrated various helpful suggestions to make me more comfortable with my malady. He referred to his file cabinet as easily as a sighted person, though all his information was in Braille.
Following my visit, I was referred to a representative of the Washington State Services for the Blind and Partially Sighted, who made several trips out to my home. She made wonderful suggestions aimed at making me more independent. She introduced me to handy shortcuts in bathing, applying makeup, and with various mundane chores, which had become almost monumental. She advised me on color-coding, and how to hang my clothes in my closet to make them more recognizable. She also applied plastic “bumps” to my computer keyboard, helping me to quickly identify the most used keys, and demonstrated short cuts to facilitate my writing hobby.
Most awesome is the fact that she is almost totally blind and has been visually impaired since early childhood. She lives alone, does her own laundry, cooking, shopping (with store employees’ assistance) and household chores. She also attributes her communication skills to a master’s degree from the University of Washington, which she achieved after losing her sight. She now concentrates on helping the blind or partially sighted to live more independently, making her visits accompanied by another state employee, who serves as her driver and unobtrusive helper.
With role models like that, along with the support of my family, the burden becomes quite bearable. A case where the blind CAN lead the blind most effectively!
This essay by Louise Smith is from our archives. Louise Smith, who was a retired newspaper editor and frequent contributor to Northwest Prime Time, passed away at 95 & one-half in 2009. I was utterly charmed by Louise when I met her years ago, long past her ARMD diagnosis. I remember thinking to myself that, despite her vision loss and other maladies, I hoped to become more like her as I grew older.
To learn more about Louise, read a funny, heartfelt tribute by another frequent Northwest Prime Time contributor, former associate editor Suzanne Beyer. Here is the link – I recommend you give it a go. Reading it brought a tear and a hearty chuckle: Remembering a special friend — Louise R. Smith
