
Our dog and I have something in common. Read on to find out what it is.
If you read my book Learning to Live with Vision Loss, you understand what blindness is and what it isn’t. But in case you haven’t, I’ll share that 85% to 90% of people considered blind (i.e. legally blind) have some functional vision. Some may only see light and dark, but most of us have enough vision to do daily tasks using technology and other aids.
That means we sometimes think we are seeing more than we are.
In my book, I shared the funny story about the time I thought I’d killed a fly in the kitchen only to have my husband tell me, “You sure did. You definitely got that popcorn kernel.” It was a funny blind moment, not an embarrassing one.
Then there was the time we stopped at a rest area on the interstate. We have traveled I-40 in our state frequently, and when my husband parked at the rest area, he asked if I needed his help finding the facilities. I knew the area well and told him “no.” When I came back to the car, I opened the passenger door then stopped. A bag of chips was in the seat. “Wait a minute,” I thought. “I wasn’t eating any chips.” I glanced up and was shocked to see a man (fuzzy, blurry, not clear but definitely not my husband) sitting behind the steering wheel. He was speechless as he stared at me. I immediately began apologizing. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m visually impaired and thought this was our car!” I said it again as I backed away and closed the door. My husband was sitting in the next car watching the whole thing and unable to do anything about it. That vehicle, the same color and similar to ours, had not been in that parking spot when we pulled in.
“Well,” I told my husband when I got into our vehicle, “he’s got a story to tell for the rest of his life.” It was embarrassing but funny at the same time. Most of my VIP (visually impaired persons) friends have had similar experiences.
Recently, however, I had a blind moment that was not so funny.
I was helping serve the after-funeral meal of a dear neighbor and friend, and I was managing to recognize some people by their voices, height, and other clues I use to identify people. A young woman with long, dark hair came up to me as I was helping clear tables. She had already spoken to me in the kitchen, and at that time I wasn’t sure who she was but knew she knew me since she said, “Hi, Mrs. Pam.” After the meal, she was near the family, and I hugged her tightly, thinking I was hugging the daughter who had lost her father.
After a few words, however, she knew my mistake. “Mrs. Pam, I’m (name).” She is a close friend of the daughter, which is why she was there, and she was very understanding because she knows my situation, but still…it was embarrassing.
One of my many flaws is I am an extrovert to the extreme. I love people. I’m a hugger. (Sorry, germ phobes, it’s just an automatic reaction in many situations.) I always tell myself I’m going to change, that I will think before I speak and think before I hug, but somehow those tendencies overtake me. At my age, you’d think I would have figured it out, but obviously, I am still a work in progress.
I have countless other stories, and I guess despite the embarrassment, I have to laugh at myself. I did plenty of stupid things before vision loss, but the incidents have increased in number the past six years.
At the beginning of this post, I shared that our dog and I have a lot in common. No, he’s not blind. But he is extremely sociable. He loves people and loves other dogs. He’s excited when we take him to the kennel. When people come over, we have to restrain him at first until he calms down because he wants to be near them. As a matter of fact, he gets so excited about new people in the house, he shakes all over while his tail wags furiously.
He’s four years old, and we continue to try to train him to be calm and not want to jump up on people or bother them with begging to be petted. At least he doesn’t lick. He may never be trained completely.
I may not either. But I’m going to try. It’s the only way I can think of to avoid more embarrassing moments!

Dear Pam,
I’ve opened the door of some else’s car, but I’m not visually impaired. I just wasn’t paying attention. It is embarrassing.
Sincerely,
Beth
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