If there’s one thing writers really need, it’s community with other artists. I have this amazing friend, Emily, who shares my love of writing. We belong to the same writer’s group and have fun drinking tea and/or wine over topics involving creativity, editing, publishing, and the like. She writes a hilarious blog and recently nominated me for a Liebster award. Thanks Emily, for your encouragement and for being someone with whom I can share writing joys and frustrations and engage in super-nerdy conversations.
As part of my acceptance of the Liebster, I had to answer the following 11 questions from Emily: Continue reading
The call came at 3am Wednesday. Grandma is dying. She probably won’t make it through the night. If you want to say your final goodbye, you should come.
The lights at grandma’s house were dim when we arrived, and the air was heavy. Short, labored breaths rattled out of her lungs, sounding like a child with croup. She lay tucked under blankets in a hospital bed in the middle of her living room; my cousin leaning over her, inserting morphine tablets under her tongue to keep her comfortable.
Being on hospice for the past week, the call had not been entirely surprising, though she had been so alert and responsive the prior few days that we had thought it might be weeks until the end. But here we were, in the middle of the night, beginning our final farewells. Some family members sat perched on the queen-sized bed near her hospital bed, while others lingered on the couch in the adjoining family room, taking turns leaning over her and whispering words of love and gratitude. Continue reading
It’s been almost a full month since Joy or I have posted anything. Shame on us! It’s not that we haven’t thought about blogging, but we’ve both been a bit pre-occupied. Also, neither of us like to post out of any sort of obligation. We like to write when we have something worthwhile for our readers. Today I have something worth mentioning on the blog. I’M PREGNANT!
Perhaps you’re wondering why I am wearing a mask in this photo and why the pictures to the right look blurry. It’s not your vision (or perhaps in some cases it is…) It’s smoke. I live up in the mountains and we’ve had wildfires over the last 4 weeks, which has caused a tremendous amount of smoke in our county. Between morning sickness (which I think is misleading considering the nausea often lasts the entire day – not just in the morning) and the smoke stacks, I’ve been a bit distracted. But I’m happy to report that I am now 14 weeks along and feeling so much better, and the wildfires have subsided as well.
I will have more to share in a couple of weeks following my eye appointment in Seattle along with my first day of cane training. I need to get as much done as I can before baby number two arrives in spring!
To end our mini-series on “parenting”, we’d like to offer a chance for our readers to win a free reading assistance software, Kurzweil 1000 version 7, $1000 value (this version was released several years ago, but can be upgraded to a newer version if desired). The software is new, in package, and still shrink wrapped.
Here’s the challenge… this is for either parents of kids/adults with visual impairments or kids/adults with visual impairments to answer:
Kids/Adults: Share a story/memory about how well a parent or teacher handled a situation involving your vision.
parents: Share a favorite memory of how your child handled their vision challenges with humor, wisdom, a positive outlook, etc.
Email your submission to firstname.lastname@example.org by Friday, March 2nd. Submissions can be brief or detailed– it’s up to you!
We will post our favorite one as well as a runner-up to doublevision and will send the winner this software.
Yesterday my vision showed improvement on the peripheral chart for the first time. I was hesitant to write about it yesterday because I wanted to have a second fields test to confirm the progress. This morning, I took another visual fields test and knew without a doubt as I was taking it that my vision had improved. Dr. Yu confirmed what I already knew by showing me the progress I had made on the visual chart. The intense emotion I felt at that moment caught me by surprise and I began hugging my husband Torrey while tears streamed down my face. I looked up and he was crying, too. There were lots of other patients in the waiting room at that moment and they were sharing in my
excitement. I started to laugh to myself as I thought “most people would be crying with sadness if their peripheral vision measured the same as mine right now, but here I am crying with happiness just to have this small increase in peripheral vision”. Perspective is everything.
I’ve often described my vision loss as a giant puzzle with the border and center in place,
and lots of pieces missing throughout the rest of the puzzle. Some of those pieces have been filled in, but there are still a lot missing and that will continue to challenge me in my daily life. I want to focus on being grateful for the pieces that are there now, and I am anxious to get home and see the difference it makes in my daily life. I am hopeful that my fields will continue to increase as treatment continues. I will come back in 2 to 3 months for a second round of treatment.
I had a lot of doubts when I started this treatment on Monday, and had practically decided to just head home by Wednesday when I wasn’t seeing any results on the charts. But I received a number of inspiring quotes, verses, emails and messages from loved ones that encouraged me. I am finding it hard to wrap my Western brain around how this Eastern medicine could bring life to tiny cells in my retina that have been inactive for years. How could ancient medicine show more results than modern medicine in treating RP? It seems researchers at John Hopkins University are wondering the same thing. A research study regarding Dr. Yu’s treatment is currently awaiting funding.
There is so much more to write – so much more I want to share about this doctor, this treatment, and the other patients I’ve met. I am both physically and emotionally exhausted at this point, and want to be well rested for my final day of treatment tomorrow. Plus, I fear that too much detail will start to bore my family and friends, and yet I know for readers with RP, there are many more details they want to know. Please feel free to correspond with me individually for specific questions: email@example.com.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be “normal”. I’ve wanted to just blend in and not make a spectacle of myself (which is pretty hard to do when you’re running into poles and such.) I’ve literally pictured what my life would look like if I was “normal”, and by normal, I of course mean perfectly-sighted. I would live out in the country– or maybe I wouldn’t– but I’d at least have the choice to live in the boonies because the “normal me” could drive. I’d have some job that required a lot of driving– like a pharmaceutical rep– or maybe I wouldn’t– but at least I’d be able to choose a career that involves driving. I’d play beach volleyball– or maybe I wouldn’t– but at least it’d be an option on a hot, summer day. You catch my drift; “normal me” has a lot of options.The funny thing is that most of my “normal me” fantasies don’t envision my life all that different from what it is now– I’d still be married to the same amazing man, have the same sweet children, the same supportive friends, live in a similar house with a similar career path, but I’d be a much “better me”. I’d look better (because I’d be able to do my makeup better if i could see it more clearly, of course!), act funnier and wittie (because I’d see funny things all around me), be a more-together and fun mom (wouldn’t lose a thing if I could see!), be more outgoing, athletic, involved…… I’d just be me with a little boost.Okay, so “normal me” is beginning to just sound like “perfect me”. Definitely not saying I would be perfect, but I really can’t help but think I’d be BETTER. I know that most people have their “thing” that makes them feel abnormal– the family they grew up in (probably half of America for that one), some physical trait that they don’t like about their face or body, some secret about their past, some act that they wish they hadn’t done or hadn’t been done to them…… there are probably very few people who would say they feel “normal”, whatever that word really even means.
But if so many people don’t fit into being “normal”, why do I sometimes feel like I am the only one who sticks out as “not normal”? And if I really do enjoy most aspects of my life, why do I daydream about changing it? Let me re-phrase that: why do WE daydream about changing it? Based on many of the RP chatrooms I’ve visited, I know that this is something we all struggle with, and I don’t think daydreaming about being perfectly sighted is necessarily unhealthy. But I do think that we should pay attention to how we view ourselves and the vocabulary that goes along with those views, especially the “n” word.