Just this past week, I again, left open a cupboard door in the kitchen and he smacked his face right into it--ouch! I still say "here!" and poor guy, he has no idea what I'm talking about. I use gestures he can't see, I glare at him--which is probably a good thing he can't see, most of the time. It has taken me a long time to really realize how much he doesn't see.
Michael has done remarkedly well, considering. He has learned to take his time and slowly scan an area when he needs to. He has learned to be content being driven around by his wife and others. His backseat driving has even lessened over the last 6 years. When we walk into a darkened movie theatre, he holds onto my shoulder as his eyes adjust to the darkness. Dark rooms of any type are a real bane to his life.
We tend to avoid crowds now. State fairs, malls, even the church lobby can cause havoc with people rushing hither and thither. We, sighted ones, can be so assuming that others see just like us. Expecting everyone to have peripheral vision and see what's coming up on the side of them, or the toddler who is right underneath our feet. Unfortunately, that is not always the case. I have tried to convince Michael to wear a patch over his bad eye or to use his white cane in those instances, but to no avail. Don't ya think he'd be ruggedly handsome with a black eye patch? aka one those pirates from the movie Pirates of the Caribbean? ya, I thought so too.
We are thankful that he still has some sight left and is able to read, watch tv, see Josiah grow up and see my smiles. I am proud of his determination in school, even tho he reads so much slower than before.
That's just a little glimpse into our lives, living with a member who has low-vision.
