This is how my weird eyes look from the side. Image by Author’s wife

There are many forms of blindness and almost as many degrees between them.

I was born with a genetic defect called Keratoconus.

While a normal eye is shaped like an egg, and has about the same consistency as a hard-boiled one, my eyes are different. They are softer, especially around the corneas, and it makes them shaped somewhat like pyramids.

If you were to look at me from a side-view, it’s pretty striking how much they protrude.

When you add in distortions this kind of thing can cause to the extreme amount of scarring on the corneas I am saddled with, you might realize how much the vision is affected.

It’s like someone wrapped cellophane around your skull and pulled it real tight, then telling you to read the smallest letters on a board.

The Trip to Wal-Mart began with hardship.

I rarely go anywhere alone, my loving wife usually accompanying me wherever I go so I don’t get lost and turned around. When I’ve tried to do things on my own, I have walked into walls or tables.

However, last year, she had to undergo a critical heart operation and was down for the count for a long while afterward, some days barely being able to get up out of bed.

Despite her having to go through it, shopping still had to be done to feed the family, and we were lucky enough to live in an area we could get delivery of groceries for a while.

One day during her recovery, though, we ran out of bread and needed to get some more. Being rather poor, we could certainly not afford to order delivery service for a simple loaf of bread, so I was tasked with going to get more.

My wife could drive by this point, but because we were still in the deep throes of the pandemic, we felt it was unsafe for her to get exposed to any potential viruses (COVID or not), so I asked her to wait in the car while I went inside to find the bread.

I grabbed my little white cane, so I’d have less risk of walking into something I shouldn’t, and made my merry way into Wal-Mart.

Image by Author

Let me tell you folks… on a good day, going into Wal-Mart for me is overwhelming. Going in alone was even worse.

The hugeness of the space immediately overcame me, the echoes and smells, the burble of people talking loud and babies crying even louder ripping through my ears.

But I was determined. After all, it was just a loaf of bread I sought. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?

Right?

I have just enough low vision to be dangerous to myself and others, but if I squint hard, I can sometimes at least keep from crashing into things, and having the cane is a help. Getting enough of an acuity to see specific items on the shelves or seeing what is on the signs above the aisles, however, is out of the question.

I really don’t know what I was thinking of by trying to do it on my own, but there I was regardless, shuffling up and down one aisle after the other, all while crowds of people in masks (and not) passed me by blithely, not knowing how much frustration was growing inside of me with each passing minute.

The frustration grew untenable.

I tried, in vain, to find an employee to ask them where the bread was in the store, and I was hesitant to stop someone to ask. I’m a man, tall with a long unkempt beard and hair, and I didn’t want to do anything to make someone nervous about me.

After ten minutes, though, my frustration was reaching a peak. After fifteen, I began to cry.

One unfortunate thing about my particular condition is my eyes are extremely sensitive. Not just to light, but even air, as well. Any changes in humidity or salt content will make things flare up in a bad way.

That includes tears, my friend.

The salt in my tears hit my corneas, and I was even worse, the pain intensifying to the point I could barely even think straight.

So, there I was, in the middle of the Wal-Mart shopping aisles, my hair a complete mess and my eyes streaming like a madman, trying to maneuver past people who were paying no attention at all.

As I did my best to walk with the cane in front of me, a couple walking with their cart even rammed into me, careless about the fact that I was obviously having some kind of problem. They didn’t even have enough humanity to move to the side to pass me by.

They expected me to be the one to move, though I was on the right side and they were coming from the other direction.

It was pitiful.

I was pitiful.

An unexpected salvation…

Finally, there was a tap on my shoulder and I turned around, trying to squint through the agony in my betraying eyeballs enough to see who it was.

An older lady, I think, asked me if I was okay and I muttered that I was looking for bread.

She led me to the place I could find some, and I thanked her deeply as I grabbed the first loaf I could put my hands on. I didn’t care what kind it was or how much it might cost.

She even helped me get to the front of the store so I could pay for it and make my way through the exit into the cold, snowy air and into the car.

I begged my wife to never let me do anything like this to myself again.

Image painted by Author

I am grateful to that kind soul who took a moment out of their day to help me get through it all. I am glad that there is at least some modicum of humanity left in the dark world we’re in.

Being alive today sometimes sucks, I know. Having any kind of medical condition along with it is difficult, at best, and traumatizing on top of it all.

If you see someone struggling, please ask if there’s anything you can do to help. Believe me, most of us who have issues like these would be grateful for the compassion you show.

If you would like to support Ira in his efforts to help feed his family, please consider becoming a member of Medium. A portion will be given to him at no extra cost to you, and you’ll not only be helping this blind man take care of his needs, you’ll also be supporting every other author on Medium, as well.  Please go here to begin your membership today !

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