In pre-blindy days, life was pretty comfortable; I was a reasonably successful auctioneer/antique dealer in the family business in Dunedin, strolling towards retirement. The diagnosis of likely blindness from retinitis pigmentosa (RP) changed things: suddenly future plans and living arrangements needed closer attention. Over 20-odd years later, I'm now a fully paid up blindy, though like most, not totally sightless.
It’s fair to say I've got a bit cranky in recent years; age will do that, along with the threat of complete sight loss. Those beloved of verbal tinsel describe the process of increasing blindness as a 'journey'. It’s not a bad word, but it does imply a willing destination and tends to skate over the frustration and disappointments along the way. During my 'trip' I've met a lot of folk associated with sight problems, some dedicated, some delightfully inspirational, others sadly entrenched in the concept that dealing with blindness is a serious business.
Like most Brits raised in pre-PC times, I reckon poking fun can be healthy, even where disability is concerned. Please note, I use the term 'blindy'; it’s not intended to be insensitive, it just works best for me.
There are people who can help
Declared 'officially blind', my first port of call was Blind and Low Vision NZ, formerly The Blind Foundation. By this time, I was beginning to feel like a prize in an optical pass-the-parcel game. It was a major step and the start of one of the more confusing parts of the 'journey'. There was little doubt that I had the thing, but not much actual evidence. I could work OK, read pretty well and wander down to the pub for a pint in the evening. Somewhat reluctantly, I attended a few group meetings at the Foundation branch in Hillside Road but soon gave up. I just didn't feel part of things; sitting round a table with folk I could clearly see, listing to their vision problems and discussing disabilities I had no conception of made me feel a bit of a fraud.
