Life with No Vision

I looked up from the television to my phone and back again, and then I looked over my shoulder. I closed my eyes and I could still see it: a blurred patch, 1-inch square, in my vision. It was disconcerting that I couldn’t focus on an object directly in front of me. I panicked. I used eyedrops and walked in circles. Next, I went onto the computer to look up the symptoms but found that it was difficult to read because of the fuzziness and I had to skim via my peripheral vision. The spot grew until it was double, triple, quadruple the size.

Slowly, the undulating colors flowed outward and my primary field of vision was restored. I could read the text but the monitor frame was fuzzy. I closed both eyes and my brain perceived a crescent shape of color on the left side. It kept flowing outward until I saw the distorted colors and shapes in my peripheral vision (which gave me a throbbing headache). I couldn't escape by closing my eyes nor concentrate on anything else until this passed from my system.

This happened yesterday afternoon and the entire incident lasted about twenty minutes. It was one of the most frightening moments in my life for two reasons: vision’s relative importance and the feeling of utter helplessness. I was alone and my phone is not tactile so I imagined the steps as I lose my vision completely and bang on a random neighbor’s door to call for an ambulance; then the void of living the next sixty years without enjoyment of all the visual pleasures I currently take for granted. I would rank eyesight among the most satisfying of those marvelous miracles I enjoy on a daily basis.

Today is Easter Sunday and I just witnessed a particularly scenic orange sunset from my balcony. I spent the day considering all that I have to be thankful for and will continue to be mindful of in the future; in addition, I’ll probably schedule an appointment with an eye doctor.

s.d.