The consequences of my ignoring the gradual impairment of vision could have been extremely serious for myself and others.
I had always been very proud of my powers of sight; often when describing objects near and far companions would be amazed at the detail I could see. I was used to seeing my family with glasses but somehow I never thought that I would ever need them. I began to get headaches at 34 when I studied as a mature student, but the lenses recommended were simple and some people who tried them remarked that they couldn’t see any difference! Just eye strain then. By my late fifties I was wearing bi-focals and kept reading glasses for books and newspapers. All quite normal – old-age creeping on, nothing dramatic.
By 2000 I was running a business consultancy founded by myself and my wife with international connections. A lifetime ambition was fulfilled with the lease of a gleaming Jaguar saloon with all the gadgets. All seemed fine – headaches, misty vision and the missing parts of words when reading were put down to long hours and stress – no great problem – until a trip to Birmingham.
I drove down from Glasgow, collected a franchise partner from his flight at Manchester, and set off via a client call in Chester to an evening conference in Birmingham. We left our hotel at dusk and I complained bitterly to my passenger about the quality of the laminate glass being used by Ford in their Jaguar subsidiary. “You would think that a giant international corporation could fit a decent screen to the products of a luxury division!” – I raved on for sometime about how I had bought very expensive sprays and glass polishes for the windscreen to try and eliminate misty areas; how when I had taken the car back to the dealership asking for the screen to be changed they had looked doubtful, polished the screen again and assured me it was perfect. It was dusk and wet, the kerb was indistinct, streetlights splintered across the glass. Road signs became a strain to read. I raved on, somehow we found the conference hall safely. The following evening came the crunch time that could have spelled disaster.
The next day, business over I dropped my passenger at Manchester airport and aimed up the west via the M6/A74 to the strains of Dire Straits, etc. Totally familiar roads, coffee in Carlisle, sunset and the sweeping curves above the border over Beattock summit. Good headlights and all other vehicles visible, I was not aware of any problems other than tiredness, which I decided to alleviate at a service station about 40 miles from Glasgow. As I pulled off the slip-road I was blind.
I braked and stopped, bewildered. I could see the petrol station lights but not the road or hedges. I feared someone would run into me in this fog I found myself in. I slowly eased left until my wheels touched the kerb. I opened the door and stood beside the car. No fog, no bonfire smoke – a clear night, only I didn’t know that. I stood in the cool air and my vision slowly improved. My right eye cleared first and I managed to park properly and went for refreshment. Thank goodness I could phone home and say that I would be later than expected. One anxious person that night was enough!
I was able to see an optician the following day who identified a cataract problem in my left eye and also glaucoma. A visit to a consultant confirmed the diagnosis. The possibility of an early eye operation via normal channels was nil, so the left cataract was operated upon at a private clinic. The consultant also prescribed twice-daily eye drops for the glaucoma, for life.
A cataract operation on the right eye was successfully undertaken in 2005 – the eye drops continue.
Thanks to modern medicine I can now confidently plan a motorcycle trip around France in 2011 – my seventieth year – for charity. What I will never do again is ignore any signs of diminished faculties, ask first not wait until trouble looms.
About the author
Ted Dewar-Healing is a Vision Support fundraiser.
