May 27 - Vision Loss and COVID -19

These past weeks I have been struck by the similarity of the words that have been used to describe the global spread of the corona virus to the words used to describe the personal onset of loss of sight. I know that some of the words that I have heard to describe both this time in our world history and its emotional impact are the same words I might have used to describe how I felt with the abrupt change in my own sight.

Have you been watching on television and have you heard the corona virus described as: devastating, challenging, difficult, unprecedented, horrible, isolating, dark, extraordinary, or uncertain?

Although it has been some time now since my own sight loss crisis, these might have been some of the same words I could have used to describe that experience in my life. They are likely the same words that anyone who has faced some sort of grief or personal loss might use.

Although I didn’t analyze my feelings at the time, looking back I can see that many of my feelings were similar to anyone who has experienced a significant loss. They were feelings commonly associated with grief. They were feelings of loneliness, isolation, anger, sadness, disappointment, depression, confusion, unbelief or denial. For many, these are the same feelings that are associated with the coronavirus and its global spread. COVID-19 has robbed us of time – time which we would ordinarily be spending with friends and family, time of celebrating together and perhaps grieving together, time to make plans for the future.

Just as the time frame of adjusting to my vision loss was uncertain, so right now it is difficult to see ahead and to make plans for the future. However, on a note of optimism, I can say that as I write this I feel fairly well adjusted to living with limited sight. So too, I think that it will be the way of the pandemic. Right now we are going through this period of uncertainty but at some point we will emerge to the other side. How we will adjust to the new reality is still unknown, but if we stay strong we will be able to do so. Hopefully we will support each other as we reset our way of thinking and reinvent ourselves in the new pattern of our lives. 

While adversity can come to any of us on a personal level, we are now all facing the same challenge. We might be in separate boats, but we are all facing the same storm. Let’s continue to throw lifelines to each other until the crisis of COVID-19 is behind us.

May 14 - New Normal

Yesterday, I had a small taste of the “new normal”. I had a medical appointment in the city and it was the first time I had been out in the general public in seven weeks. Of course I have been for walks in my neighbourhood and enjoyed a visit in my driveway with a friend, but other than that...zip! I have been super cautious, so yesterday was a new and strange day and experience.

The day began with the drive to the city where my appointment was scheduled. Ordinarily, the stretch of highway that links our town to this city is always busy. Yesterday, the traffic was almost non-existent. There were trucks but private vehicles were few and far between. It was a quick and easy trip.

When we pulled up outside the doctor’s office, I called to let them know we had arrived. Rules and regulations say that there aren’t to be any people in the general waiting area. When approved, Lyle and I donned our face masks and with our hand sanitizer in our pockets, we entered the building. Masks were a requirement.

It was an odd feeling to be talking with the doctor and the receptionist – the first strangers I had had a face-to-face conversation with in nearly two months. I know that some commentators have compared our COVID isolation experience to that of astronauts. I wonder how these men and women adjusted to life back on earth after their space isolation. Even after only seven weeks, I know that I had a feeling of unreality – almost like being in or waking up after a dream.

Wearing the face mask didn’t help. I found that the mask blurred my vision even more than it is usually blurred. The heat of my breath seemed to mist by eyes and looking down was tricky. I was glad not to be wearing glasses.

After my appointment, Lyle and I stopped at Costco and for the first time I went into the store with Lyle. It was all different. We needed to line up outside for ten minutes or so as staff controlled the number of people allowed in the store at one time. Our shopping cart handle was wiped down as we entered the store. Inside, I found that other customers seemed to be unusually silent as they went about their shopping. Were they grim or just concentrating on keeping a physical distance? I don’t really know. I know that I was concentrating hard on staying right beside Lyle and our own shopping cart.

Since arriving home again, I have been reflecting on the day’s adventure. I think that in a small way, I can compare it to my first ventures out on my own after my sight changed. This time Lyle was with me but even so I was anxious and nervous about what I might encounter. I struggled with the further diminished field of vision brought about by the face mask.

However, I think that there is also a wide difference between the two experiences. When my sight changed, I was the only one in my community who was coping with what was to become for me a “new normal”. The loss of my sight was a very personal challenge and for the most part I needed to work out how to overcome the hurdles of lost vision on my own. In these current times, we are in the boat together. We are all coping with a changed and changing world. As we work out how to overcome the hurdles of how to live with the threat of the corona virus, I am hopeful that the new normal of today will soon evolve into a brighter and more optimistic new normal of the world tomorrow.