The doctors tell me my vision is stable, but I feel blinder to the world around me. I am tripping more, spilling out onto sidewalks and park lawns. I am searching the house more often for my husband and my pugs, who are usually very near me. I think that when the doctors say my vision is stable, they mean that the RP isn’t invading my central vision. Of course I am incredibly grateful that my central vision remains unsullied by the tentacles of RP, but I still feel like a freak and a failure and a burden. I try not to dwell on what I can’t do, but Living in Los Angeles makes that difficult; the car thing and the sun thing and the social thing are all dictated by the blind thing.
Last week, I fell twice; once on the grass when I tripped over a friends dog who I didn’t see and once in a driveway when I tripped over one of my dogs who I didn’t see. The scrapes and bruises are left as reminders of the way that RP, literally, pushes me to the ground. I find that I am dealing less emotionally well when these accidents occur. I am no longer good at brushing things off, but have to take the time to collect myself and turn off the berating tapes that tell me I am a loser.
I feel more nervous. I am behaving more cautiously. And yet, I am more bruised than ever. This must mean that my peripheral vision is still deteriorating; or at least that is what my mind is telling me.