Category Archives: Coping

We Talked It Over with Randy

This time last year, in the midst of the Polar Vortex, Randy submitted his letter of resignation as my Seeing Eye dog: Dear Jeff, we’ve been a team for nine years… and that’s a long time in dog years. We’ve … Continue reading

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Elevator Music for the Soul — A Flashback

Mary and I are in the elevator in the senior high-rise we’re learning to call home. We’re having trouble adjusting to this place. It’s so different from the home we knew.  At this moment, we’re witnessing the mayhem of octogenarians … Continue reading

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Laughing Fit to Burst

As my wife’s cancer progressed, as her prognosis dwindled from months to weeks, she slept sixteen, eighteen hours a day.  One evening, toward sunset, as Mary dozed, I lay beside her, wondering what in the world would happen next. I … Continue reading

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Our Four-Star Hospital Cafeteria

It’s not that my wife and I get off by hanging around hospitals.  It’s just that what we need to get done doesn’t get done at our neighborhood sushi bar.  So, with a squeeze of the hand and a kiss … Continue reading

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The Fear of What Hasn’t Happened

When I was diagnosed with RP three decades ago and was told I would go blind, my first thought was that the world would end.  It hasn’t. When I stopped driving, I figured I’d become house-bound, isolated and withdrawn, that … Continue reading

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The More I Write about Blindness the Less I Write about Blindness

Over the years, I’ve walked almost 2000 miles to and from work.  Most trips are serene, a few stressful.  My first step on every walk is to pause and take stock.  I check the weather and traffic.  I test that … Continue reading

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The Brighter Side of Blindness

Two men walk into a barn.  “Sure stinks in here,” says the first.  “There’s a pony here somewhere,” says the second.  This story is a metaphor for blindness.  Sure, it stinks, but there’s always the possibility of a pony ride. … Continue reading

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A Lesson in Empathy

 “I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events… where I should be comfortable.  It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through … Continue reading

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Invisible Ink

Every other Monday for five years, rain or shine, I posted a Jalapenos story.  I wrote comedies about dogs and tragedies about people.  High or low, I wrote—136 stories in all.  Then, at holiday season last year, life overwhelmed our … Continue reading

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