Blog
This blog began as a class project for Social Media and Marketing, focusing on personal branding, but it has grown into something much deeper and more personal. My journey with vision loss is not just a story; it reflects the experiences many may resonate with and hope to share.
I was once able to see clearly, but as time passed, my vision began to change, a common experience for many. It hit me unexpectedly one day while I was working as a hairdresser. I was intensely focused on a client’s highlights when I noticed things were becoming blurry. My employer kindly remarked that now that I was in my forties, glasses were probably on the horizon.
Like anyone, I took the possibility of losing my sight seriously. I made it a point to have regular eye exams. Most visits were uneventful, but occasionally I had to pick out new frames due to my changing prescription, often feeling weary of the old styles anyway. These routine check-ups became crucial for me; they weren't just about updating glasses. They represented a way to take charge of my eye health and catch any changes early on.
However, the challenges didn’t stop there. I started experiencing minor accidents—scratching my cornea on things I never expected—a leaf from a Ficus tree, the tag on a towel, or even an opened cardboard box. It became frustrating and concerning, especially when night driving became daunting. The glare from oncoming headlights became unbearable, and there was the time I nearly hit a pedestrian dressed in dark clothing—one of those moments you quickly brushed aside as just aging.
Every time I went for an eye exam, I was reminded to bring someone along to drive me home after dilation, which was becoming routine. After one such appointment, I felt awkward when my doctor extended her hand for a handshake, and I completely missed it. I felt embarrassed, but she calmly guided me through an eye test, asking me to let her know when I saw her hand. Her expression changed as she walked me to my friend, and I joked about going blind. Her lack of laughter and the concerned nod from my doctor lingered in my mind.
That appointment led to a specialist who conducted a battery of tests that felt daunting. They examined my eyes in ways I had never experienced before, and after what felt like an eternity, she delivered the life-changing news: I was blind.
“Blind” sounded so definitive, but I could still see some things! As she explained further, I was legally blind and had Retinitis Pigmentosa, a condition I had never heard of. The reality of receiving a diagnosis with the words “legally blind” scribbled across it was overwhelming. The suggestion of getting a guide dog surprised me; I didn’t think I needed that yet. However, she also provided a list of resources available for the visually impaired.
The whirlwind of emotions left me grappling with my reality at that moment. The weight of the diagnosis was heavy; it was as if I was experiencing grief. In a sense, it was because it was about a loss. A loss I would never get back.
I made an appointment to visit our local Braille Institute. Someone showed me around and told me about the activities they did for their members, and I saw their members walking around the building. At that moment, I didn't feel their members represented me; they used white guide canes as they walked, and I didn't need one. So, I started researching other means of resources.
For me, the easiest source was YouTube. I quickly learned there were so many that I was beginning to get confused. As I listened, I sometimes instantly turned it off because, and I hate to say this, sometimes the pitch or accent of voice bothered me, or they talked too fast.
But, I didn't find what I really wanted, and that will bring me to my next blog;
Newly diagnosed as legally blind. Now What?
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