My First Glimpse Of Vision Loss: Watching My Mother Fade
The quiet beginning of a journey I didn’t know I’d be taking
Before I ever heard the words “macular degeneration” from my own doctor, I had already seen what vision loss could do to someone. I had lived with it—not directly, but through the eyes of my mother. And though I didn’t realize it at the time, that early experience would shape how I thought about my own diagnosis many years later.
I was an adult when her vision began to change. She had always been independent, active, and quick with a laugh. But little by little, things started to shift. I remember her struggling with reading recipes she once knew by heart, giving up her favorite crossword puzzles, and pulling back from social activities she used to enjoy.
Eventually, she was diagnosed with dry macular degeneration.
And that was it—at least for her. From the moment she heard those words, she gave up.
“I can’t do anything,” she would say. And that sentence became her reality.
It was heartbreaking to watch. The diagnosis didn’t just take her vision; it stole her sense of purpose. She stopped trying. Stopped adapting. Stopped believing that she could still live a full and meaningful life. And back then, in the early 1980s, I didn’t know how to help her—because honestly, no one did.
There was no internet to search for answers. No online communities. Very few support groups. Assistive technology was extremely limited and rarely mentioned outside of specialized clinics or rehabilitation programs. If she had access to resources, she either didn’t know it or didn’t believe they could help.
So I watched her fade—not just her eyesight, but her whole way of living.
And somewhere deep inside me, I made a silent promise: If that ever happens to me, I won’t let it take everything.
I’d like to tell you I kept that promise right away when my own diagnosis came. But I didn’t.
Like her, I struggled at first. I went through shock, denial, grief. The difference is—eventually, I chose to fight my way forward.
