Image of an old sailing ship at sea waiting for the light to break through a heavily clouded sunrise.

Waiting For The Light

My husband tells me it’s light outside as he hands me a cup of tea. Gingerly, I begin to pull the debris of my being together in preparation for a post-surgical ophthalmology appointment, but it isn’t easy. Parts of my psyche are strewn like discarded clothes from a lovers tryst all over the artificially darkened bedroom, and I’m struggling to collect them. My husband administers another round of post-operative eye drops. He carefully helps me into the shower and gently washes my hair, because I literally can’t figure out what steps are involved. How do I do this? I don’t even understand the question, if it is indeed a question. Maybe it’s more of a concept. Whatever it is, I cannot comprehend the unidentifiable, unnameable fragments of those somethings floating across the astronomy of my mind. It’s as if I’ve forgotten how to do anything, or worse, never known in the first place. Forgetting would simply mean there’s a polar opposite […]

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Close-up image of an eye with the pupil containing three colours: blue, red and green.

Eye Had A Dream

It’s been more than six months since I first presented the idea of finding a new eye specialist to my husband, and if anyone said we’d be where we are right now, I would not have believed them. I would have wanted to, secretly hoping against hope they were right, but I wouldn’t have possessed the faith or fortitude to buy into the possibility. At least that’s what I tell myself, even though my actions, attitude, and secret ultimatums suggest otherwise. The truth is, I’m heavily invested in the outcome, and have no idea how I’m going to cope if the gamble doesn’t go my way. The only saving grace is how cautiously optimistic my surgeons are, and the fact that if it does go wrong, then at least my world will be unquestionable. As it is, we’ve kept my pending procedure very low key. Balancing my thoughts, feelings, expectations, and questions has been difficult enough, let alone adding the well-meaning […]

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Image of a drawing of a brain. The left side is filled with equations and the right side with splattering colours.

Out Of Sight, Out Of My Mind

Honey, I am just not coping, I say to my husband one afternoon as I sit curled in the corner of the lounge. Astutely he says nothing, knowing I already have a solution in mind. Let’s go to the doctor and ask him for a referral to a new ophthalmologist, I push, trying to keep my tone neutral. The words are like cotton in my mouth, making me unsure if I should continue, because what if they turn out to be a noose? Losing what little sight I have, or think I have, is driving me out of my mind. It had been several years since my last proper check-up, but I didn’t want to go back to my previous eye specialist for fear of what he might say. Sure, he was lovely enough, extremely professional, knowledgeable, and highly regarded in his field. However I always thought we hadn’t quite found our footing, and he wondered why I insisted on taking […]

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Image of an ancient map of the world on an old parchment.

The Odyssey. A Journey Home

I’m not sure I can do this, I think with increasing certainty as I hover in the blustery blackness, silently suspended between moments. It’s as if I’m frozen, but the rest of the world keeps moving around me. I wonder where I am. I know my home is just over there. Just over there being less than fifty metres away, but it may as well be as far as the moon. Here between one second and the next, I don’t know where the footpath ends, and the road begins. I listen for the space, which means the park is on my left, and just ahead. I listen for the wind rustling the autumn leaves. I listen for the car tires slowing down as they slide through the roundabout in the middle distance. I listen for the unmistakable thud of the units beside me. I listen for the gap between buildings. I listen for the sharpness where I know a spindly tree […]

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Image of a man in dark surroundings walking toward a shadowy light source.

Vision Into Shadow

“With all due respect honey, you really should slow down,” my husband says after we nearly collide with a well-dressed gentleman in a black suit cutting across our path. I’m pushing our eighteen month old in her new trike across the concourse of our local train station. It’s a place I am very familiar with. Although recently, what little vision I have seems to be gently but painfully fading from existence. My life feels like it is slipping into shadow. I love the trike with its extendible handle and small stature. It’s so much easier for me to use than the pram as it allows me to more obviously hold my cane. I worry that sometimes the comparative largeness of the pram frame might leave the cane almost invisible, making me feel vulnerable.
 Not that I’m willing to admit this aloud, because what if my husband thinks I’m not coping? Will he continue to let me push those boundaries of blind […]

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