What our members say

Hindsight on the Loss of Sight

By Billy Bell

My sight seemed alright until about 1964 when I was 32. I was working a night shift and suddenly felt a sharp ping or jab of pain in my left eye. I didn’t give it too much thought until I had to go to my optician for an eye test for new glasses. I could see fine, but had noticed that the one hundred watt bulbs in our living room light fittings appeared dimmer with my left eye than my right. The optician discovered that there was something wrong. She advised my mother to take me to the eye hospital to have it checked out.

The examination revealed that I had a detached retina in my left eye and needed an operation. Laser beam treatment was still in its experimental stages in the early sixties. The surgeon could only guarantee a 50/50 chance of success. I was not warned that I might lose the sight I had. Success was not to be. I was left without any sight in my left eye.

Blindness, even in one eye, was simply devastating. I laid in the hospital for a month not knowing what was happening to me, an anxiety compounded by the fact that I am deaf. In these early days, no one told you. It was as if they did not want you to know. Today, the surgeon and his team would explain everything in detail to keep you from worry and anxiety.

Had I known then what I know now, I would not have had the operation. Instead, I would have attended a ‘detached retina clinic’ to save the residual sight in my left eye.

27 is a young age to have a detached retina, but not unusual in cases like mine. I was born both deaf and blind. I had a mastoid in my right ear and, although it was removed by surgery, I remained totally deaf. I had to have several operations to remove cataracts from both eyes. This caused the retina to become weaker, like a rubber patch on a bicycle inner tube with not much glue round the edges to hold the two together. In fact, my early surgeries left both eyes in pretty poor shape inside. I have had glaucoma in both eyes for 40 years.

Work on my eyes began when I was a baby. My mother would have to take me to the eye hospital very often for treatment. It was a ten mile journey from Bellshill by bus or train, twenty round trip. A visit to the hospital was an all day session from early light until late at night. Mum had to take sandwiches and flasks of tea, nappies and bottle feeds to last all day. Sometimes my older cousins would come for company and to help out. The hospital was very basic and the routine time-consuming, unpleasant and frustrating.

The eye clinics today have changed a great deal. They are modern and much improved. The doctors have a better approach and manner on the wards and with the patients. I regularly attend to have my eye pressure and medication checked for the glaucoma. The treatment for glaucoma used to be pretty drastic. Pilocapine eye drops had to be used four times a day along with lots of tablets to keep the pressure down. This regime was painful, frightening and alarming. Everything seemed dull, foggy or blurred. It was also damaging over time. The pupil of the eye would become so small that vision would be reduced quite suddenly. Today, pressure in the eye is reduced and can be controlled using two sets of eye drops. I am happy to say that this treatment is working well for me and I only need attend clinic every six months.

Winter is the hardest time of year for me to see. The days are long and dark and I find that I now need a lot more light. I manage not too badly though there are some days when I see better than others. Glaucoma is taking its long toll on my eyes. Every time my field of vision narrows, I have to learn to see again – to adjust to the new level residual sight.

The secret to coping well with fluctuating sight is to use whatever sight you have, to make use of it to the best of your ability and use it fully. On days when it is poorer or in short supply, you appreciate what little you can see; trees, flowers and everything else about you. You learn to enjoy life as it is and be thankful for what you have. You use your inner sight to look on the bright side of life.

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