Dear Eric,

I understand very well what you are describing. I wouldn't say that my anxiety is severe, but I have come up with clever plans to avoid the situations you describe. For instance, I carry cash, so as not to have to sign credit card slips. I avoid long meaningful conversations with people due to my discomfort with knowing that I am not looking directly at them (eye contact is a quality I find important in an individual. Ironic isn't it?). I do dread having people come in to do work at the house or for instance, I am expecting the Fed Ex guy to come in a few days, which will require a signature. Once again, I will have to have a stranger show me where to sign after an explanation of how I can't see where to sign...Ugh! It is tiring and makes me feel inadequate. I think being a man would make it more difficult. We have a pride that says we want to fit in, not be different. Dogonnit, this MD keeps reminding us that we aren't the same as others. I watch with covetous in my heart (God forgive me) when someone casually signs a form or carries a long in depth conversation chucked with eye contact, facial expressions, maybe even a wink. How about when you ask someone for directions and they point several different directions saying "See that such and such?...Go that way".

So it is no wonder you might be a bit anxious to repeat this ritual several times a day. The key, I think, is the self-talk. I try to remind myself over and over again that I can't see well. There is no shame in that. It many times falls on deaf ears in this feeble mind of mine. Today, I had an appointment with a neurologist, and I called ahead to have them send me the forms ahead of time to fill out and sign. But wouldn't you know it, there was a sign up sheet on the desk.

Dan wrote another lister some facts about depression and MD, which I will share with you:

"It is natural to feel depression as your sight diminishes, because approximately 80% of our sensory input comes through our vision. This is a large loss, but we can regain a good percentage of it through other senses (especially hearing and touch), which are fully capable of helping us "see," but which have simply deferred to the easiest path.

"Loss of central vision is a nuisance, but you will find that your life can be full and independent without it. This email message looks for the easiest way to your machine, but--if it runs into a barrier--it searches for detours through countless connections until it finds the path. And it doesn't give up until all possibilities are exhausted. We can do the same if we want our lives to remain productive, and I hope you will also take that positive approach."

So to have some depression occasionally is normal. Yesterday I got in a place in the mirror where I could see my eye clearly. It was amazing how much of a sense of relief came over me. I think it is that brain thing that Dan was talking about.

My advice to you, myself, and anyone else who wants it: do what you can to minimize the anxious moments, and change the self-talk when you can't. Most of the time you will never see that person again, so it doesn't matter what they think or how they look at you. The silver lining to my disability is I can no longer see the looks. Ha.

I hope this helps.

From Dan:

Dear Ann,

Unfortunately, depression is part and parcel with this disease. You are experiencing a loss of something valuable, and feelings of loss can be overwhelming for the strongest of us.

What you are feeling is natural, but if your bouts of depression are growing more prolonged and difficult to shake off, you need to find someone with whom you can talk it through. This is not something you can do alone.

If you haven't already done so, please read Dr. Lylas Mogk's article on our web site titled "Depression and Macular Degeneration." This will confirm what I have said, and if you recognize yourself in Dr. Mogk's description, I hope you will take steps to find support. The people here on MDList are wonderful at that kind of thing, but sometimes what a person needs is face-to-face human contact with someone who understands.

A professional counselor will be able to help, either through behavioral therapy, medication, a combination of both, or simply by acting as a sounding board. Of course, family members and close friends can work wonders, too.

You might also consider that the holidays are approaching, and that can be a source of depression for many people. It sounds strange, but it's true.

Don't let this thing beat you, Ann. Tenacity, acceptance, support, and knowledge (T.A.S.K.) are the elements of success in living with MD, and I have seen all of those things in your letters. Just don't try to live with it alone. There are many people who want to help, so take advantage of those hands that are ready to reach out to you. Our mailboxes are ready for anything you have to say.

From Ollie:

Hi Everyone,

About morning depression, or anytime depression. The best part is you know why you are depressed. It is because of you eye conditions. I have been there, and I know all about it, but I do not permit it to make a return visit.

There is no one on a picnic with MD. You want to cry, go ahead, It is O.K. THEN get out of that bed and get on with the day. YOU do NOT need a stinkin' pill to get you through. Once you start them, you will find you might get relief from a pill, BUT down the road you will find you will have two monkeys on your back. Sooooo you will find you have two things to get rid of, and that is not easy. I have been there, also. For those who do not know, I am 74 years young.

The depression pills will not help your EYES, Darlin'. What did I do? Done away with the pills and made plans for every tomorrow for weeks ahead, and it worked fine. AND I can no longer drive. I just tell Hubby he is going to drive Miss Daisey so I can get out. If it is not possible to go out, due to Hubby having some thing to do, I put on music, grab the feather duster, and see if I can still dance. I got my self a karaoke machine and I sing my heart out. Sounds horrible, but I love it.

My point is get OUT of that bed and lean on your self and not pills. You can do it.

Gonna hush up now, and wish all you depressed ones lots of luck. And remember, I have been there.

From Cathie:

Hi Melanie,

My vision changed at age 10 (42 years ago). In my teens I was diagnosed with Stargardt's. I've never driven a car: will not with a license. But I ride a bike (tandem now), ski, live in one of the top resorts in North America, run a family business, have two girls ages 27 and 17, and am still laughing.

Have been married twice. The second one was a keeper for the past twenty years. I attended university when I was 27, single parent when my oldest was two, and graduated four years later with a B.ED.

I don't want to imply that there's nothing to it. Life sure can be difficult. But one has to get out there and be a part of what's going on. Grab hold and go for it! I prefer to view how things can be done rather than review what cannot be done. It's a matter of attitude, and there is a path through the grieving process.

I do suggest that she open her eyes and marvel at what she can see: in joy, not with sorrow. There is time for sadness. It's the perceived loss of independence that threatens. But now is the time to get educated for employment to be self sufficient and learn about the eye disease. Knowledge about Stargardt's will arm her for a more successful and happy future. Computer literacy is crucial, in my opinion. I started with large print, but now I have one that talks. What I could have done in school with one of these! Hope she can join the list or at least read up on Stargardt's. There is a lot of info, and it helps to know you're not alone.

Wish you success.

From Carol:

It's a beautiful autumn day and I can't see the leaves.

Ohhhhh, but I can feel the sun on my face.
And a warm wind ruffles my hair,
rustles the leaves.
What is that smell that simply SHOUTS, "Fall!"
reminds me of hay that has been in the sun for days
or recently pitched into the horse's winter stall?
Children laugh in the park.
A little girl next door sings to her dolls.
Can you hear them?
The mug in my hand gives off an aroma
as good as the coffee tastes.
All these sounds, these smells
fill me with joy.

I could cry.

From Gordon:

Hello everyone,

Some one of you wonderful people made a statement very recently, which I am sorry I can not recall, however, it made me a much happier and relaxed person. Why? Now after two years of straining every day to see in the distance, I find myself not straining my eyes to see our back yard landscape, patio furniture etc from our den or any part of our home for that manner! I see what ever and if it is fuzzy, so what. I thank God that I can see what I see fuzzy or not. Am I making any sense?

I thank whoever said what this old timer can not recall. It sure helped me. Please all have a beautiful day in our beautiful country and world. Thank you for listening and for those of you that love music, play it often.

From Anonymous:

Just a thought, if we can't see it quite right, what stops us from experiencing it?

If we can't see our backyard from afar, then why not go out into our backyard?

If we cannot see our patio furniture from afar, then why not go out and sit in it.

If we cannot see a flower, then why not go out to it and smell it.

If we cannot see the sun, when it is shining, then why not go out and feel the warms rays touch our bodies.

We can still see but in different ways. Our vision may be lost through our eyes, but not through the rest of us and our senses.

From Dan:

Jim, those tears of ours are for the loss we feel, and they are quite natural. It is neither self-pity nor fear, but more likely the realization that we will never regain what we once had. It is the same as grief over the loss of a loved one, our unrecoverable youth, or the loss of our innocent children as they mature into adults.

Such realization is not ever-present in our consciousness, because many other things demand our attention. Times will come, however, when something reminds us of our loss, and we feel it almost as strongly as the first day of our diagnosis. Time has also allowed us to gain the knowledge and experiences necessary to deal with such emotions, so those periods of grief, fortunately, do not last as long as they once did.

Tears are an effective release, and they are also a reminder that we are human. No other species is capable of crying, because we are the only one that understands our vulnerability. It's a gift, and one which we often don't even remember we have until something is taken away.

Thank you for your openness, because you have spoken for many here. You do fit in, my friend, and we're glad to have you with us.