Blind Perspective, Vol. 6

The Northridge earthquake strikes in late January 1994. I am on retreat for a plenary meeting for the California Men’s Gathering in the mountains of Malibu when the earthquake hits. I am fortunate to come home to very little damage. After the curfew is lifted, I decide to go out and shoot some pool and meet with friends.

It’s been five months since I was told by my ophthalmologist that I would go permanently blind. Not much has changed visually except for an increasing number of floaters in my eyes that are very distracting. I’ve become involved with the Being Alive Support Group for people living with HIV and AIDS.

I’m excited to see my friends after a week of the nightly curfew. I shoot some pool and drink my Perrier. While talking with friens about the earthquake, I glance across the bar and see a face I recognize from my support group. He’s fairly new in the group. Within the hour my friends are gone and I’m left alone seated at the bar.

I feel a tap on my back and turn around. To my surprise it’s the man from my support group. I say, “Hello, aren’t you in my group at Being Alive?”

“Yeah, my name is Dan and you’re Michael,” he says. “I like listening to your shares. So, how long do you have before you go blind?” he asks very carefully. “I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

“No, Dan, I don’t mind talking about it. According to the doctors, I have a year and a half.”

“Has your vision changed much since your diagnosis?”

“The floaters are getting worse, but I can still drive and see pretty well.”

“That’s encouraging news. Maybe you won’t go blind.”

“One day at a time, Dan. I’m concentrating on keeping a positive attitude, sort of making lemons into lemonade.”

“So,” he says in a lighter tone, “I hear you’re taking up painting.”

“Oh, I’m just playing with color; I’m no Picasso. It’s just fun for me. It keeps my creative juices flowing. I’m working on an installation for an art exhibit at Being Alive.”

“I love art myself,” he says. “I’m an architectural designer. That is, I was before my cancer popped up a year ago.”

“Cancer? Are you okay?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, it’s in remission and I was very lucky. I know about lemons and lemonade, too.”