BLIND ENOUGH

BLIND ENOUGH
NFBV Blog Submission
April 28, 2022
By Renée Valdez

It is entertaining how, while walking on a crowded sidewalk in Old Town Alexandria, or at Tyson’s Corner Mall, my white cane will cause people to jump in all directions, giving me plenty of room to pass! It’s like Moses and the Red Sea, I tell you! Sometimes, someone will say, “Excuse me.” Sometimes they will pass me, oblivious to my tapping. And sometimes, especially in sparse people-traffic, they might press themselves up against a wall and stay very still and quiet so I won’t know they are there! Really! True story!

News Flash! I can see you, silly! And, I will say, you look very funny scrunched up in the corner there! See (excuse the pun!), blindness is a funny thing. Sighted society is under the impression that a person is either blind or not. Either one can see or not see. If only life were that simple, right? The truth is, what blind people actually “see” is as personal and unique as that person themselves. And to make it even more interesting, for some blind people, what they can see changes given certain personal or environmental factors, like stress, lack of sleep, sunlight, or shade, shadows, glare …hell, the wind blowing North can affect us! (Just kidding!)

If you feel frustrated at this news, think about how a novice blind person might feel. I say novice because I have learned that people who have been living with blindness for most, or all, of their lives seem not to sweat this small stuff. Getting from point A to B, for a seasoned blind person is as routine as that same task for a sighted person. The only difference is, the blind person might have a guide dog or a white cane leading the way. What is the big deal? Sighted people are led by their cell phones, usually texting while they walk through their daily lives.

What about the novice blind person, you ask? Well, thank you for asking! In the words of the guard at the gates of Emerald City, “That’s a horse of a different color!” I can only comment on my own experience as a novice blind person, and a very unruly one at that! It was easy for me in the beginning when I didn’t have any sight to consider. I could “see” if it was light or dark, and that was pretty much it. Since I was completely devastated by my new challenge, my decision was easy—I didn’t go out! At all! I planted roots on our couch and there I sat for three years! Ha, ha! Ok! I’m being melodramatic! That’s what I do!

I did go out during my very blind time. I visited the amazing docs (Dr. H. Nida Sen) at the National Institutes of Health, National Eye Institute, almost monthly, as they worked so diligently to get my eyesight back. I took mega doses of Prednisone, and some other good drugs, and grew and grew to the size of a sumo wrestler! (Don’t laugh! I have the pictures to prove it!)

I remember the first time I could see that there were two fingers right in front of my face. It was Daryll, the technician working with me at the Eye Institute, who was doing the routine exam to determine if my vision had changed. Prior to this, I couldn’t see a bulldozer in front of me…but that day, I was able to see Daryll’s big sausage fingers (he was a heavy man)! The tears are filling my eyes right now as I remember that moment. After such a long time of not being able to see anything, suddenly, there they were, the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life, unsurpassed by a rose or a waterfall or a rainbow…I could see those big, chunky, ashy fingers and I cried. And cried. And cried. We all (me, my docs, and Daryll) thought that it would be a miracle if I ever regained any sight. In the words of my Uncle Thomas, “It was a goddam miracle!”

In the months that followed that initial drama, I grew a backbone. My eyesight would fluctuate to almost total obscurity and then back again to waterfalls and rainbows, usually somewhere in between. And that is where I am now. I am thankful to have regained enough eyesight to see the beautiful smile of the man I love; the mischievous look in my dog’s eye when she wants to play; the green grass, the blue sky…

WAIT! Stop the music! This is where the director comes in shouting, “CUT!”

So, what about that “blind enough” title? What the hell does that mean?

I’ll tell you. Now that my eyesight is in a spot where I can see certain things in certain situations, it becomes interesting. As far as the autoimmune illness that took my eyesight in the first place, the damage is done. Dr. Sen says, because of the scar tissue formed on my little retinas, I probably won’t regain any more eyesight. The trick will be to prevent further loss caused by any relapse of my illness. (Oh, stop looking at me like that!) As I often boast, I have enough eyesight to get me in trouble!

Here's the thing…when I don’t use my white cane out in public, I take small and tentative steps, and sometimes, if I approach stairs, or a curb, or anything in the dim light of dusk, because I can’t really see, I stop, feel around with my hands and feet, and then take the step. My Honey says I look like an old lady! So, I use my white cane. Picture this: I’m walking through Barnes & Nobble Bookstore headed straight back to the Starbucks, my white cane swishing side to side in front of me. I order my delicious Quad Grande Americano, pay, and navigate to my seat, where I will be for the next several hours. I fold up my cane, take out my laptop, put on my 6+ reading glasses, and start checking my email. WHAT! I can tell that the people sitting across from me, who are now staring at me, are wondering how the hell this blind woman, who they saw walk in with the white cane, is able to see the computer! And when I take out my journal and start writing, with a pen(!), I know that throws sighted people into a tailspin! It is counterintuitive! White cane = blind person. Sighted brain says, “Ok. I compute.” Blind person = writing (with a pen!) in a journal. Sighted brain says, “ABORT! ABORT! DO NOT COMPUTE!”

It pushes against a sighted reality to see a “blind” person typing on a keyboard or writing in a journal or taking pictures of the landscape (hobbies I totally love!). That is because society has a rigid idea of what it means to be blind.

Now, here is the kicker. (A huge knot of emotion is beginning to well up the tears in my eyes.) I feel a certain way about this. I’m not completely sure how to define this feeling. The first word that comes to mind is guilt. (Here is where the title of this prose comes in…) Am I blind enough to be considered blind? WHEW! To you, that might seem a fairly innocuous question. To me, it is laden with shame and anger and denial…

As I am sitting at my table in Barnes & Noble, sipping on my Grande Americano, writing, with a pen(!), in my journal about that very moment in time and my thoughts about it, I look up at the people staring at me…and I smile. What else is there to do? Must I explain to them that I really am blind, (Really, I am!) but I have enough eyesight to be able to write in my journal (with the help of my binocular glasses), something I absolutely love to do and am so damned grateful to be able to do again because of the docs at the NIH who were able to retore just enough vision so I can do it? Must I explain to them the nuances of what I can and cannot see given the amount of light or the quality of light or the level of stress in my life or a relapse of my illness, all of which can cause fluctuations in what I am able to see in any given moment?

Instead, I smile. And I continue to write…And take pictures of the landscape. And check my email…And it occurs to me…I can be gracious and understanding when others cannot comprehend the conundrum of my eyesight; at one time in my own life, I was that person. And I am grateful that I have enough eyesight to see the handsome face of the man I love, and my fur baby MJ, and the smiles of the family and friends I so cherish…and for me, that is enough. RFV