Kia ora koutou, when I tell people I’m now classed by the Blind Foundation as mata rehu (visually impaired), I’m not sure anyone really understands what I mean. I know I didn’t before I got the diagnosis of macro-degeneration and I certainly didn’t understand what the fallout would be. So here’s a few discoveries.
I’m at the stage where I can’t see faces properly. I can sit opposite someone and see their face but not see the features clearly. I can’t see my own face properly in the mirror. However I can still make a cup of tea and I just put the Christmas cake in the oven. Lots of peering and muttering went into those cakes so better turn out right. Yes, there are two. Why not?.
I’ve got new LED light fittings in nearly every room. Cost a bomb but don’t know what it would be like if I hadn’t..
I can’t see when I’ve got flour on my trousers or soil, until I take them off at night and then not always. Then I peer at them and realise I’ve been walking round half the day(including up Main Street) with dirty trousers. I can;t see whether the toilets clean or not unless I use the torch I keep there for that purpose.
Lacing up my shoes is a pain and the velcro ones are not much better because the velcro straps stick to each other and its a struggle to get them open.
I can’t see the kitchen floorclearly so I’ve turned into an obsessive sweeper. I have to peer at spice packets, at recipes, in the fridge and you can forget the bathroom cupboard. I have.
I can see people walking in my gate, recognise them clearly, but when they’re closer its the gauze curtain again.
I can see the street and I can see well enough to walk up it. I am even more nervous about bikes, scooters, skateboards.
I don’t look any different (although how would I know?) and I’m getting used to it. Technology rules, ok? I wouldn’t be able to manage without it; I would be a mess. It enables me to read and work. I’m having an assessment soon to sort out what things could make working easier.
If I’m doing a talk or teaching, what I want to say is writ large and in bold. I usually know it well enough so that I don’t have to look down too frequently.
And hey it’s true, I’ve had a lot of years when I could see well. I’m not anywhere near as badly off as someone I met the other day who’s had a worse eyesight problem since he was eighteen. ‘Take the white stick when its offered,’ he said. ‘People who can still see well enough to get round feel like frauds but the stick is real handy, bus drivers see it, and it signals you might need help.’
I suppose that’s true. We like signals don’t we. We like to know if someone needs help.
As for reading…I’m managing. Its no good saying to me, as some have, mainly doctors, ‘Well, you’re eighty–nine, what do you expect?’ No help at all. I want to say, okay, I’m eighty-nine and I expected/hoped for a hell of a lot better. I hoped my sight would last forever. Everything else can go, I thought, but please let me keep my sight. Well, I got half what I wanted.
Like Iris (WTC) says, ‘I suppose I should be grateful, but I’m not.’
But – I can see roses, I can still deadhead although sometimes I cut off the wrong one. I can see chives. I can see tomatoes growing and I can pick broad beans. I always missed a few of those anyway even when my sight was good so finding a few that have got too big to be eaten and enjoyed, is not new.
I can still read poetry. I can still read print books but its a slow process so I mainly stick to ebooks..
So if I peer at you, just say, ‘Hi, Its me Renée.’
I can still see smiles.
Renée
