My father suffers from macular degeneration. He is legally blind minus the white cane. White canes aren’t much use if you need a wheeled walker to get around.
I take his diagnosis and our shared ancestry very seriously which is why I am retiring soon in order to read as many books as I can before my eyesight starts to fail. At fifty-nine, I’ve already had one cataract removed; I figure some malevolent god of fate is waiting around the corner with another lightning bolt.
Yesterday, when I stopped by my parents’ for a visit, he had a whole conversation with me before realizing I wasn’t my sister.
It was a sunny day and he was squinting so said sister dug out the cool pair of shades he got from what she referred to as that « blind place ».
« My eyesight is worse this days. », he lamented.
« In what way? », I asked.
« All I see is a blob in front of me. »
His right hand painted a large circle in the air for effect.
The blob reflected in the sunglasses nodded her head sympathetically while her sister snickered from the sidelines and took the shot.