Okay, okay, I’m not blind in the way you think. I am legally blind, though, and if you’re confused by that term, go to Amazon and get my book “Learning to Live with Vision Loss” for free if you have Kindle Unlimited (until the end of June) or for $2.99 as an e-book, or for $5.99 as a large-print paperback. In case you choose not to buy the book, though, I’ll give a brief explanation. What being blind means for me is that I have no central vision in either eye as well as some peripheral loss, and my peripheral sees 20/400. What that means is what a person with normal vision sees from 400 feet away, I have to be as close as 20 feet.
But that’s not the point of this post. Nor does this post have anything to do with the sketch above, other than to share that I used to enjoy sketching people and animals, but that once very enjoyable hobby is now very challenging and not quite as much fun.
Being unable to sketch like I once did is not the worst part of my vision loss story.
The worst part is being unable to drive.
I have devices that help me do things like use the computer, watch television, read short amounts, and other activities (once again, explained in my book). I can still enjoy being around people and doing physical activities like walking for fitness, yoga, dancing, swimming, even playing miniature golf. My life is good. No, make that great. I’m extremely blessed.
Yet one negative continues to resurface despite my best efforts. That little voice in my head that whispers, “If only I could still drive…” There are so many things I could do if I could still drive. I could run errands again. I could go to town or to visit shut-ins or go walking somewhere else besides my neighborhood whenever I wanted. I could drive to bigger towns for a day of browsing the stores. I could help others by running errands for them or taking them places instead of someone else having to do those things for me. I could go see my granddaughters, who live over two hours away. I could help my family more.
My complaint (and it is a complaint although I don’t like to admit it) is common among adults who lost their vision later in life. We went from being independent to being stuck in our homes or neighborhoods and having to rely on someone else to get us to the places we need or want to go. Maybe people in large metropolitan areas that offer public transportation or people with limitless money who can afford Uber or Lyft anytime they want don’t share these feelings, but for most of us, the inability to drive means we have lost much of our freedom.
That’s a hard pill to swallow. It can be done, but it takes a long time.
I’ve been extremely fortunate to have family and friends to take me places. I know there are many not as blessed. I appreciate it more than they know while at the same time feeling embarrassed to need their assistance. I’m strong and healthy. I can walk five or six miles at a fast pace and not even be tired. The thought of me living like an elderly shut-in while still as healthy as I am seems wrong somehow, like the universe is out of kilter.
I guess I am writing about this for selfish reasons. I guess I want to vent, to make people understand what it’s like. It could be I’m writing this in case you know someone who is unable to drive for any reason so you will understand what they’re going through if they have the health and the will to get out and about. If you do, maybe reading this will persuade you to reach out to them, to go visit them, to take them places without them having to ask you.
After five years of not driving, it has gotten easier. I am adjusting and accepting, but I still have my moments. I’m getting there.
And if you’re still fortunate enough to be able to drive, don’t take it for granted. Try not to get worked up about that person in front of you driving five miles under the speed limit or staying in the left lane when he should be in the right or any number of things that can go wrong when traveling from Point A to Point B.
It’s annoying, no doubt. But at least you can drive. I’d gladly drive slower than the speed limit or behind a driver in the wrong lane just to be able to drive again.
Life As I know it 