FUNNY ...
By Diane M. Pearce © 1992
All Rights Reserved to Diane M. Pearce
My grandfather used to say that there are two kinds of "funny" - funny peculiar, and funny ha-ha. It is usually nice to know which kind of "funny" is being referred to, and this story is about "funny peculiar".
It was always funny how my eyes worked. I could see clearly (20/20 with contact lenses), but it was never really possible for me to see with both eyes at the same time. My left eye was my "lazy" eye, and would only see if I closed my right eye. The instant I opened my right eye, my left eye would quit seeing, although it was wide open.
The eye doctors I saw throughout my life all acknowledged this phenomenon and told me there was nothing to do about it. In fact, it was first diagnosed when I was six years old, and my parents were told that had the problem been found earlier, we could have patched the right eye, forcing the left eye to work; however, I was too old to do that.
What is not funny at all is that this information was not correct. In early 1990, I learned through a television talk show that there is more to vision than 20/20, and that there is a branch of the field of optometry, referred to as behavioral or developmental, that addresses the rest of the subject of vision.
Later that year, I sought out a behavioral optometrist for myself. This took some concerted effort, as there is a small minority of eye care practitioners that work in this way. My goal was to get a second opinion regarding my situation.
It was during my initial examination by a behavioral optometrist that I first heard the words "vision therapy". After confirming what all the other doctors had told me, he gave me the option of trying vision therapy to correct my visual problem. He gave me a guarded prognosis, with no guarantees.
There were reasons for his caution. My case was somewhat complicated, and I was at an age when many people decide that the status quo has served them well enough, so why change it? I thought about my options for a weekend, and realized that I had never really wanted anything so badly in my life as to see with both eyes simultaneously.
We started therapy immediately ... and I do mean "we". I was given homework to do - vision exercises prescribed by the doctor that required 15-20 minutes per day of focused energy, to be done five or six days each week. For his part, the doctor designed the program that I would follow, monitored my progress frequently, supervised my in-office vision therapy session, and prescribed the frequent changes necessary for my contact lenses as I progressed through treatment.
The "we" of vision therapy is critical. I could not have achieved what I set out to do without knowledgeable direction, and the doctor could not do the therapy for me - I had to be willing to "practice" to get results.
So why did I do this? What did it matter if my eyes worked together? I had my BA degree, plus a fifth year teaching credential. I was capable of holding a job, and contributed to my community. Life was OK. But was it? The results of therapy have shown me that life may have been OK, but it also can be a lot better. Specifically, it means being able to read and comprehend without having to re-read the same sentence three or more times. Therefore I now read faster, and remember more of what I read. It means, in short, that I at last have access to my own intelligence.
Additionally, and equally significantly, it means that I have gained depth perception - "3-D" vision for the first time. To elaborate:
Life without depth perception is much like looking at a picture: you can tell that the tree is in front of the house because part of the house is obscured by the tree, but not because you see the tree as being closer to you in space than the house. Without depth perception, the tree does not appear to "pop out" at you.
Life without depth perception means difficulty with sports like tennis, baseball...well, all of them. This does not mean that sports are not enjoyed by people without depth perception (who rarely realize that they do not have it!) It means that they are more likely to be the spectator. They are likely to be the last one chosen for teams in neighborhood or school games. They are likely to be clumsy or unsure of themselves as they move through space.
Life WITH depth perception is like being invited to join in the party - to be a full participant in life, rather than a spectator. The best example I can give is that of the snowball fight. The first winter snow that followed my vision therapy brought the temptation of snowballs. In the past I had always done me level best to keep up with the action, but had quickly resorted to covering my head and surrendering. This year it was different.... I was able to track the movement of the snowballs through space ("keep your eye on the ball" now makes sense to me). Consequently, I discovered that I had the option of dodging the balls or reaching up and catching them. I also had more time to reach down and make some of my own to throw. For the first time in my life, I held my own in a snowball fight.
This example also brings forth the point that there is a psychological overlay to our visual situation. It is difficult, if not impossible, to have "true" confidence or self-esteem while coping with an inadequate visual system. I believe that this often stems from the discrepancy between the internal perception of the individual that indicates that he/she is smart, capable, and coordinated, but when the intelligence is measured objectively by grades, test scores, and the outcome of snowball fights, it does not prove out. The obvious conclusion to a logical mind is that one is not as smart as one thought - and down goes the self-esteem.
Along with the psychological implications of visual difficulties, often there is a physical overlay too, as the person with limited visual skills pays a price for the effort it takes to compensate for an inefficient system. This physical price can take many forms, dependent upon the personality and body chemistry of the person affected. The human body has myriad ways of telling us of its struggles - fatigue, muscle tension, illness, headaches, etc.
Given not only the academic, but also the physical and psychological ramifications of visual deficits, the doctors who offer this treatment option do society a great service, often unrecognized by any but those who benefit by it and those around them. However, I am convinced that gradually our society will become educated regarding all the aspects of vision, and will honor the optometric doctors who are leading the way.
My own personal vision is that some day it will be possible for all people to be routinely screened for "funny peculiar" problems with their eyes, and, when appropriate, be referred to behavioral optometry for the care that can change their lives.
Diane Pearce
Postscript:
Since undergoing vision therapy in 1990, Ms. Pearce has been active in the promotion of vision awareness. She is currently promoting her solo classical piano CD and cassette, "A Little Dinner Music", which she dedicated to behavioral optometry. She is also working on her first non-fiction book — a story about horses.
Diane Pearce is a piano teacher in Friday Harbor, Washington and works part-time as the Postmaster of the Roche Harbor Contract Postal Station.