I am a partially sighted middle aged man. My eyesight is deteriorating. Sometimes I feel like a man on a rock with the tide coming in. There has been much recent media commentary about disability issues involving our treatment of disabled citizens and those who care for them.
I knew I had a genetic sight issue from an early age. My father had been advised not to have children for the risk of passing on the gene. I am relieved that he did.
The early manifestation of Retinitis Pigmentosa is night blindness and a loss of peripheral vision. I have a memory of chatting up a slim, quiet girl wearing a large hat at a dimly lit party in my late teens.
When I started getting amorous I realised the object of my desire was a lamp shade. In my late twenties I was a senior instructor at Outward Bound in Australia. I trained officer cadets for admission to Duntroon military academy. Night manoeuvres were stressful. On one occasion I ploughed into a tree and knocked myself out. My squad continued on and I rejoined them in the morning. They assumed my sudden disappearance was a planned part of the exercise.
I lost my ability to drive in my mid-thirties. It was then I realised that my condition would shape my life. My cycling came to a halt several years ago when I encountered a closed gate on the Otago Rail Trail. The face plant was spectacular. Fortunately I was never a pretty boy.