Yesterday, I awoke to a darker place. The fog has thickened. RP does that to me. It allows me only this much eyesight for so long, then snatches some of it away. Sometimes while I sleep, while I dream of red cars and surfer girls and a five dollar footlong with a dill pickle.
When I have a vision loss, I fall into a funk. I get sad and wish for days passed. I get angry too. I want to isolate, to stay home where it’s safe and I know where everything is.
I don’t get down on myself for feeling sad and angry. After all, I’ve experienced a trauma and that’s how people react. But it’s tougher now. Old ways of coping don’t work anymore. Strategies that solved problems are useless. The familiar is strange. The bargaining I thought successful, my saying, “Just leave me with what eyesight I have and I promise I’ll be a good boy,” has fallen on deaf ears.
So, today I’ll get out there and do things a little differently. I won’t necessarily like it, but I’ll do it. Today, when I walk Randy around the block, I’ll carry my white cane. Yesterday, I didn’t. I’ll carry the white cane so people won’t run into me anymore. That way, I won’t get mad at them and yell, “I cannot see you. What do you want me to do?” And that’s what I would have said, because I have new vision loss and I’m angry and I want to pick a fight.
But I won’t do that. I’ll choose to not make matters worse. I’ll choose to give others the same opportunity, to give them the information they need to do the right thing. Our walk will bring pleasure not rancor. Within our little imperfect system, where I can’t see so well, we can at least say we have done our best.