Given a clear trot, I shall be 83 this year. Apart from 'seeing' the difference between bright light and black, I'm now a 'total blindy’, which brings on the need for a bit of reflection.
A couple of things have forced the issue, the first being when Pam popped away for four days in December and left me with a bit of a wake-up call. The dependency thing's a given these days, so it was down to the grandkids to pick up the slack. Catering was easy – fish and chips, KFC and McDonald’s, with the single malt nightcap placed to hand as they left. All in all, I think it went rather well, to the extent that one remarked to Pam, “He's amazing! He never moans”. That may be true of the vast majority of blindies, but it certainly doesn't apply to me. Judiciously used, I reckon a good moan can be as mentally stimulating as The Guardian’s cryptic crossword.
The 'it is what it is' philosophy doesn't really do it for me; when it comes to sight loss, I'm more: 'it ain't what it is', which, up to this point, has worked pretty well. The second ‘challenge’ (God, I hate that word!) is that I've developed a hearing problem. I can cope with 'see no evil' and even 'hear no evil' but it’s tough not to speak it when you can't find the brand-new hearing aids. In the past I've found groping blindly and muttering oaths doesn't help, so the safest course is to seek the safety of the armchair. Once there, there's little else to do but reflect, but that can lead to what I consider one of the most pernicious aspects of sight loss: Nothing!






