Funny “blind” moments

No, there’s nothing funny about low-vision or legal blindness or total blindness. And no, this picture has nothing to do with my post other than to share a blurry image of me many, many years ago before vision loss, before wrinkles, and before…life.

Life has its highs and lows, its joys and griefs, and its “blah” moments when we feel like we’re plodding along with not much hope ahead for better days. Whatever your coping strategies are for dealing with those times, I think keeping a sense of humor about some things can help.

If you read my book Learning to Live with Vision Loss, you already know this story. One day s fly in the house was annoying me at every turn. I had tried several times to kill it, but I missed each time. Finally, about the time my husband arrived home from work, I hit my mark. “Got it!” I told him as he entered the kitchen. He looked at the counter. “You sure did,” he said. “You definitely got that popcorn kernel.”

We had a good laugh. He killed the fly.

Another time we stopped at a rest area along the interstate. “Do you need me to walk you to the building?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “I can find it. And I know where you’re parked.” When I was returning to the car, I walked with confidence to the red vehicle and opened the passenger door. When I did, my peripheral vision picked up some bags of chips in the seat. “Wait a minute,” I thought. “I didn’t have any chips” I lifted my gaze, and a man (not my husband) was staring at me, speechless. I Immediately started babbling. “I’m so sorry!” I said. “I’m legally blind and thought this was our car. I’m so sorry!” I backed away and closed the door. Barry was in the next space. That red car had not been there when we had pulled in, so I’d just assumed the vehicle was ours. I’m sure I gave that man a story to tell!

I am president of our local retired teachers association. Our secretary has hearing loss, and even though she wears a hearing aid, she still struggles. At our meeting Wednesday, she told the group if someone else wanted the position because of her occasional errors in the minutes, she would step down. Of course, the group was only too happy for her to keep the post. I told her afterwards how much I appreciated her efforts and said, “Hey, our group is unique. How many organizations have a blind president and a deaf secretary?” We both laughed as did a member standing nearby. “I was thinking that,” he said. “But I was afraid to say it.”

Let’s not talk about the times I’ve put on shirts wrong-side out or thought I was talking to one person and it was someone else or tripped over obstacles (in certain lighting our son’s dog blends in with our carpet, so I’ve stepped on hi or almost tripped over him more than once). The point is, stuff happens.

I can take myself too seriously like member of an online support group who is offended by terms like “blind alley,” “blind drunk,” “blind as a bat,” and so on. I think that’s being overly sensitive and taking yourself too seriously.

Don’t get me wrong. Many things in life are not laughable. But being able to laugh at myself makes me feel a lot better than being upset by those things. After all, laughter is the best medicine, right?