Computer Brings World to Vision-Impaired

The doctor spoke softly. He had reached for my hand and patted it gently as he talked. He could have been anyone's Grandfather consoling a concerned child.

Weeks before he had ordered several tests, explaining the various diagnoses he considered possible. They ranged from some benign epilepsy to possible stroke, aneurysm, glaucoma or brain tumor.

I had spent the seemingly endless interval between tests and diagnosis considering each possibility. What he did not know was that my Father had died of a malignant brain tumor. The very thought was like a cold dagger in my chest. I lay awake at night recalling my Father's symptoms. Many were similar to mine. I shuddered as I remembered his stumbling and occasional falls.

The doctor spoke slowly and deliberately. "You have glaucoma. You have already lost much of your peripheral vision. We can treat it and hope to slow it down. We cannot recover what you have lost."

He pulled a couple of computer charts from the folder on his desk and showed me the amazing results of my "Field of Vision" tests. As I looked at his face I saw tears in his eyes.

I had not become aware of changes in my vision, but I had become quite awkward. Often I found myself bumping into furniture, grocery carts and people. I wondered why they didn't look where they were going.

I had broken lots of glasses and one coffee carafe by bumping them against a faucet. Crowds I avoided as much as possible I had become quite claustrophobic.

"Why," I asked the doctor "didn't I realize I was losing my sight?" He explained that some people can compensate for a long time. "You have gradually learned to turn your head to look straight at things and people. Your central vision-in a small circle-is still 20/20."

I sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the news. I had lostsome of my vision. I could eventually be blind. My life style will gradually change. My world will become smaller, more limited. I'll require treatment the rest of my life.

Then suddenly I laughed aloud. The doctor looked startled. He had probably expected tears. "I have glaucoma," I said. "I don't have a brain tumor! I don't have a brain tumor! I only have glaucoma. Thank you dear God."

And so I faced some changes in my life. I can no longer drive a car. Someone must drive me any place I need or wish to go. I have a thoughtful, caring husband who does not seem to mind. But in the back of my mind, there hangs a little sign that says "You are no longer independent."

High heeled shoes have been replaced with sensible sturdy ones. I need to be as steady on my feet as possible. I fear falling and breaking a hip or leg.

There are gradual changes that I must deal with as they occur. I cannot detect how high a step or curb is by looking at it. I no longer see cob webs or dust on furniture very well. I need very bright light to see details. I have trouble focusing on the back of my hair in a hand mirror-so I had it cut off very short and I am enjoying it very much!

Our daughter and her husband had given us their old computer when they upgraded to a newer model. In the beginning it was a novelty - a means of entertainment. Now it is my best friend. I have no trouble seeing the monitor.

The Internet is a wide highway I can travel without any help from anyone. Each day I discover new sites, new information, new people. E-mail enables me to correspond easily with family and friends. Researching the web has educated me about glaucoma and given me encouragement.

The word processing program has enabled me to pick up a long neglected hobby -- creative writing. I wrote the senior play for my high school graduating class many years ago. I have written stories for some of my grand children from time to time.

There is a folder of dusty poems, essays and family journals that are now being joined by new creations -- and some have now been published. Yes, there is now a book in progress.

The computer has opened a whole new life for me. I cannot even imagine what my world would be like without it. It is slow. It does not have sound. I cannot access every site. It cannot support any of the new programs that are now available. Recently someone called it obsolete. No, not my computer. Not my best friend.