I was diagnosed with glaucoma about 15 years ago. At the time, it was pretty manageable, with eye drops and regular check-ins with the ophthalmologist. Life didn’t change much.
Adapting to Vision Changes
In 2017, I lost vision in my right eye because of a retinal vein occlusion – a burst blood vessel in the retina. That was a significant change, but I could generally maintain my normal routine. I made some adjustments because my balance was off. I had to pay more attention to where I was putting my feet, and depth perception became more challenging. Still, things were not much different daily, although I eventually gave up driving.
Eye Surgery
Over the last year, I had another significant change. I began having episodes of pain in my right eye, the blind eye. The pain got worse and the episodes more frequent, and it started to affect my daily life. My ophthalmologist warned me that this could be the beginning of a serious problem and could result in the loss of my eye.
When I found blood in my tears during a particularly painful episode, the doctor urged me to go to the Wilmer Eye Institute in Baltimore. After several hours at the Wilmer emergency room, I was referred to an oculofacial surgeon. She scheduled me for surgery, and on May 30, my right eye was removed.
I was very apprehensive about the surgery, but it turned out that the anticipation was far worse than the actual event. I was mostly out of pain almost immediately. The recovery was no fun, but it wasn’t awful. I found the eye socket was unsightly for a few weeks, but the pain was minimal, especially compared to what I was feeling before the surgery.
Post-Surgery Next Steps and Reflections
After a few months, I was referred to an ocularist, the specialist who makes prosthetic eyes. After several appointments with him, I got my new eye for my birthday on August 27. Because of my type of surgery, the new eye tracks with my natural eye, so most people can’t tell it’s a prosthetic.
My vision is poor, but I can still handle most daily living tasks without much trouble. I need more light, and I always keep magnifiers close at hand. Balance and depth perception are still off, and I pay close attention to my surroundings. I’m careful to avoid obstacles or anything that could cause me to fall. I’m very careful on stairs.
Still, I want to remain active and engaged. I volunteer at my local food bank and am still active outdoors — hiking, biking, and occasionally kayaking. I always go with a friend. I use a walking stick to help with balance and stick to flat trails and calm water. I’m grateful to have a supportive group of friends and family with whom I enjoy these activities.
Connecting with a Support Group
I have connected with a support group through the Prevention of Blindness Society of Metropolitan Washington. I meet with them on a biweekly conference call. Initially, I felt that my vision issues were not as serious as those of my new friends. I no longer think that, but it doesn’t matter. We’re all dealing with the problems associated with low vision, coping, and adjusting. That’s what we talk about in our conference chats: ways to cope, technology and services, adjustment to life with low or no vision, and how we get through our days. Support group members are upbeat, and there’s an undercurrent of humor and self-deprecation running through every call. They are a fun and interesting group and are eager to help. I have learned a lot from them.
I’ve also learned that there are extensive services for blind and low vision people offered through my state education agency. I have not yet made that contact, but I expect to do so in the near future.
Words to Live By
I would still prefer to have avoided the glaucoma experience, but it continues to teach me lessons in patience and humility. I am more willing to ask for help reading signs and menus, especially in places with dim lighting. Magnifiers help with small print or close-up work, but sometimes I just have to look for the nearest pair of eyes and say, “Can you read this?” And people are happy to help.
There are some things I miss being able to do. Still, I’m hopeful about new developments in science and technology, and I am very grateful for the ongoing support of a great team of medical specialists and caring people willing to help.
Years ago, I spent some time with my grandfather’s cousin who was 90 years old and still living an active life. He acknowledged that he was limited in some ways but added, “I can still do a great many things!” I have adopted those as words to live by.
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