Blah, BLah, BLOG
So Chris and I have done a lot of traveling for the last few years, across Canada, Europe, Australia and Alaska. I love traveling (and so does Chris) but it is getting harder on us for different reasons. Myself, it is the vision. It frustrates me to no end that my vision and brain are not working as a team, it takes so long for me to scan what I am seeing and for my brain to decide it needs more vision to compute a picture, saying this means it has become increasingly more difficult to see. If you see a half of an apple, your brain gives you a whole apple. Simple really, most of us do this, we take our vision for granted and become complacent to what we see. We all know what a whole apple looks like so we really don’t think about it too much. For me, I see part of an apple, it looks familiar, but not familiar. I have to work harder to focus, blink my eyes (hoping that it helps, but doesn’t) willing my brain to work faster for me to see that whole apple. I guess this is difficult to describe. . I have missed so much of what others are seeing and by the time I see all the detail, is painstakingly slow. So in defeat, I move on to scan and view other things. The photographs I take really help me so see more details, architecture and landscapes than in person. I hardly used my cane, those cobblestones, fast cyclists and cars were just to difficult to maneuver with, but I did carry it and have used it whenever possible. All this wonderful exploring we did meant there was a new surrounding I had to adjust to every day. Very challenging indeed. I sometimes felt like I was in some Escape Room, trying to figure out all the clues before I can get out. This came with many bruises, some panicking, tears and yes, laughter. These frustrations encourages me to push on, I can’t let this part of me go, adventuring is in my blood. This summer we settled into Port Alberni, perhaps only for awhile - a familiar town with familiar people, simple, right? Wrong. This move was truly an eye opener for me - of course I didn’t expect to be like it was when we lived here before, but what were my expectations? Support, friendships (old and new) and familiarity of my surroundings. I knew I had lost some more vision, little blurry islands keep appearing in my central vision, my precious central vision, and hey, I even get strange people that aren’t there within my absent peripheral view. I think, woah, I see dead people! Haha, okay, this has only happened to me a few times and I knew what was happening, so it didn’t frighten me. It is called Charles Bonnet Syndrome and it is common with vision loss. Google it, if you are curious. I was running on a familiar route - one I have done many, many times, I remember the route perfectly...in my head. All I did was take one turn and I ended up somewhere else completely different. I did have my rungo app on at the time but it was the first time I recorded it so it wasn’t going to help me from getting lost. The only solution to this was backtracking, about 1.5 kms. How did I do that? Go so far and take that one turn and ending up somewhere else? Easy, I stopped to look at my phone - a text came through, so I responded and then looked up. Suddenly, I couldn’t figure out where I was. It was that simple. I still remember the route vividly, but the houses had changed, and this made my run a little more complicated. So I stand there on a corner of the street, looking both ways and my brain is only giving me the information of what I used to see on this route I have seen so many times before. Frustrating as it was, it made me realize that I can not just rely on my memory anymore, because things have changed as did my vision. Realizing this, I backtracked and made my turn where I should of gone in the first place and was running back on track. Whew, I was relieved that I found my way again - mind you, this run took a lot longer than I expected. On the bright side, I did 3 kms extra on that run! Now after nearly four months living here I am able to keep up my 3-4 days a week running. I have avoided busy streets and South Port as much as possible until recently. I got bored of the short routes and wanted to expand my distance - which meant going through some busy sections of town. Poor old Dudley, he does not like the traffic much, it intimidates him too. Normally he leans towards me so I don’t drift too far from the side of the road - he’s helpful that way. I guess dogs are like people, as we age we become less brave and adventurous so we stay within our own comfort zone. I shudder to think one day he will not be running beside me... More grief. Retinitis Pigmentosa, a degenerative progressive disease that takes away your independence and put you in full throttle with grief like an old clock. It stops (remission period), you rewind (adjustment and grief period) and then you keep on ticking (life goes on period) until it stops again. Sometimes you just want to throw that watch and stomp on it (just end this progression) and it will all be over. But, and there is a big but, having that little bit of vision is something I am grateful for. God, I remember when I had 20 degrees of vision left, I thought my life was over! Wow, little did I know and imagined that it would get worst, much worse. I did appreciate that 20 degrees, but grief did get a hold of me, like it always does. I get tired of it. I now understand what my dear friend said to me once about going blind, “I just want it to be over, I am tired of all this bullshit”. Chris and I went to a backyard party early November and as we driving to our friends place, the sun was going down and the sky lit up with beautiful hues of pink, orange and yellow, already my anxiety level was rising. It meant, it is going to be dark and I will be isolated in a chair, listening to the sounds of children running and people laughing. I was imagining myself standing laughing along with them. But I wasn’t. I felt like I was in a big puzzle with so many missing pieces, falling away from everything. What was left of the puzzle was sounds that I couldn’t decipher. I felt panicked, and I think Chris had sensed that my nerves were starting to unravel. It was time to go home. As we head to the car, my throat tightened and I was desperately holding back my flowing tears. Some time ago on FaceBook I posted that I was going to quit running due to vision loss and an aging dog...and yet, here we are still chugging along like a couple of old trains trying to get to the top of the hill. It is still possible to maintain fitness and I guess I will just have to keep figuring it out.
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