A lot of helpful resources are available to the visually impaired!

I am a visual person. At the age of 4, a new box of 64 Crayola crayons could make me delirious. (I was wild about aqua!) At 6, I won second prize in a Heidi coloring contest - a Swiss watch large enough to fit around my thigh.

As a freshman art major, I followed my professor's instruction to place one dot on a clean page of a newsprint. Mine, he exclaimed, was in the perfect spot. I love Van Gogh, the trees in Delaware Park, the faces of my children.

But in my 30s there was a period of three days when vision was taken from me, when I was blindfolded to allow a scratched cornea to heal. These were the first precious days of my son's life, and I was distraught at not being able to see him. I remember groping along the walls from one room to the next, and a tearful 20 minutes blindly chasing my noodles around the plate with my fork as they slid onto the table.

There were two positive aspects to this sobering experience - the memory of the heavenly fragrance of peonies from a friend's garden, and an empathy for the challenges of people with vision loss.

My grandmother lived with glaucoma for 20 years. She had been a marvelous baker, but eventually had to give it up because she couldn't read the recipes or see to measure. And my cousin Michael, a librarian, had to substitute music for books as his eyes failed. Fiercely independent, but no longer able to drive, he was often endangered by venturing forth on foot at night or in unsafe weather conditions, always unsure of what lay ahead.

Twenty years after my blind experience, I revisited some of those same emotions under very different circumstances. When I started working at the Olmsted Center for the Visually Impaired, one of the first activities of my orientation was to travel down the block blindfolded and cross the street. Even though I had a cane and a mobility instructor with me, the cars roaring by created sheer panic. Eventually, I was calmed by the reassurance of the instructor, and I began to learn how to find my way.

Since that first day, I've had the opportunity to see many people with visual impairments come through the doors like me - uncertain and anxious - but leave with a new assurance.

One woman was happily tearful that telescopic lenses let her recognize her husband's face again. During a home visit with a rehabilitation teacher, another client was thrilled with his talking watch, large-print check register and "Say When" device that told him when to stop pouring hot coffee into his mug. Children of clients breathe a sigh of relief that their elderly parents are more independent, safer and able to enjoy life again.

So I've learned about hope and help for people who are losing their vision. They don't have to chase spaghetti around their plates, trip over footstools, burn themselves cooking or depend on their children to read their personal mail or manage their finances. They can learn how to prevent injury, dependence and institutional care - how to remain safe and self-sufficient in their own homes. I only wish that many more people struggling with visual impairment knew how much help is available.

My office has lush plants and colorful pictures, and I truly appreciate being able to enjoy them. And outside my office are people who appreciate being able to see a clearer path to their highest levels of independence. For more information, contact the Olmsted Center for the Visually Impaired at 882-1025.