If you could see what I see

If you could see what I see and look at the world through my lens, you wouldn’t ask why I blanked you in the aisle at the supermarket, or why I walked straight past you on the street, or why my clothes are inside out, or even wonder why I may stumble around tripping over and walking into lamp posts like an uncoordinated mess.

The day was Monday 15 November 2021. At 5.45am, the alarm went off. Pitch black, and absolutely freezing. I opened the curtains to be greeted by a white sheet of snow out of my window. I wouldn’t usually get up at that sort of time, but I had to check in at the hospital at 7am.

 

I went into hospital to have eye surgery that was recommended by my consultant as a preventative measure to correct damage to the back of my right eye. Since birth, I’ve always had trouble with my eyes. The left eye is a lazy eye and I’ve never had anymore than 50% vision, so my right eye has always compensated for it. Sitting there in my hospital bed waiting to go into theatre, the consultant was doing her usual rounds. When she got to me, she was very friendly as usual. “How are you feeling? I think we’ll get you in first or second, so by lunchtime it will all be over” she said. “I just need to run through what’s going to happen and get your signature to say you consent and are aware of the risks.”

Without hesitation I put pen to paper, never thinking for a second that I would be the 10,000th person from the ‘one in ten-thousand’ who will experience sight loss as a result of the operation. As the anaesthetist put me to sleep, little did I know that my life would be turned upside down for the rest of my life. When I woke up, I had lost 75% of my sight in my right eye….. my ‘good’ eye. I didn’t know it at first as I had a patch and had to wait for the eye to heal.

Living with sight loss has its many challenges as you would expect. The simple things we take for granted such as cooking, getting dressed in the morning, grocery shopping, nipping out in the car, going up and down the stairs, you name it. I’ve walked out the door with stains on my clothes that someone with normal sight would notice. I’ve even worn clothes back to front and inside out. Heaven knows what people think.

A couple of weeks ago I arranged to meet a friend for lunch. They were unaware of the difficulties I’m going through. To cover myself, I always have to check an online menu and choose what I want in advance, simply to avoid the difficulties of looking at a menu in a restaurant as the small font and dim lighting makes it really hard to read. Upon arrival, the restaurant was fully booked, so we had to go elsewhere. By now the panic had set in, I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu and I didn’t want to draw attention to my disability and have to explain the situation. The only thing I could do was ask the waitress what they would recommend and go with that. Disaster averted!

Shopping in supermarkets is difficult, unless I know where everything is. The number of times I’ve asked for help to be told ‘it’s over there’ or ‘you’re looking right at it’ as if I’m some sort of idiot. I think to myself they don’t know I can’t see, so I can’t be too mad, but it does dent your ego. I could use my stick, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Clothes shopping is problematic because I can’t read the prices and sizes on the tags.

Imagine driving along a dark country road and a car is coming along in the opposite direction with their full beam on, blinding you with a bright white light. That’s essentially the permanent view I have through my right eye now. Night time is the worst though. I literally can’t see a thing in the dark. I struggle enough as it is during the daytime, especially having zero peripheral vision, but the short days throughout the winter means it’s only really safe for me to be outside unaccompanied between the hours of 8am-3pm. I’ve tripped over low walls, curbs and walked face first into numerous lamp posts because there is not enough light for me to see. Each time I literally pick myself back up and carry on, because what else can I do? I am strong. I am resilient. I am proud. I won’t let my disability dictate my life and I will always find a way.

The irony in the saying that not every disability is visible is not lost on me. But in time the hope is that everyone will treat those with disabilities, no matter how severe, with the same respect and understanding you would treat everyone else. Sight loss has changed me, but I won’t let my disability define me as a person. It’s had a massive impact on my mental health and I do often get emotional about it, but I am strong. I am resilient. I am proud. I still get up everyday and go to work everyday and carry out my job to the best of my ability. I still go to restaurants and spend time with my kids doing various activities. I have many bumps and bruises but I guess that just comes with the territory.

My consultant has said in time the vision may start to come back. After two years, I’m not so sure, but as I like to say “We move!”. She even said how amazed she is I’m still even going to work and how I’m always positive and smiling. She says each time I come in, she goes home and tells her kids about this inspirational patient who doesn’t let troubles get in the way of living.

I’m really lucky I have such a supportive manager who looks out for my wellbeing and encourages me to speak up if I ever need any help. I’ve also received fantastic support from my team, as well as Abi in Safeguarding, and members of the HR and Health and Wellbeing teams. It makes coming to work that much more enjoyable and allows me to be myself at work, knowing I have that support and understanding from those around me.

If you could see what I see, and see the world through my lens, you will see someone who is strong, resilient and proud who is not defined by their disability and will always find a way to live a normal life. You may not realise I have a disability, but the next time you see someone in difficulty, please stop and think for a second because you may not know what is going on behind the mask.

Ricky