I've had diplopia, or double vision, all of my life. It's there whether I'm wearing glasses, contacts, or nothing at all. My childhood optometrist said it's because of the extreme difference in vision between my 2 eyes - that my brain can't converge the 2 images because one eye sees so much better than the other. I'm told surgery can't correct it since I don't have a crossed-eye. During my last couple of years of college, I started doing artwork that reflected the double vision. This blog is a brief summary of those 2 years.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

What if I don't see double?

Originally written September 2007
God broke down a wall last night at church. The sermon was on dealing with the devil and fighting what the enemy puts in our way. At the end, Preacher said "I'm going to obey God. Whoever can, come down here to the altar and pray." I went down and began a simple prayer. Suddenly I was pouring out my heart about vision therapy, snotting all over the carpet. I've put up a strong front since the day me and Momma cried on the couch in Kindergarden over the patch I had to wear. I've had my frustrations and fears since then, but I've done well pushing them aside. I see double and I'll deal with it. The doctors had told me there was no way to fix it. I've compensated for it for this long, so I can go the rest of my life without too many major issues over it. Then we find a vision therapist that cannot believe my eye doctor did not try any kind of treatment. (I found out too late that one reason my old doctors didn't try anything was because they didn't believe me. Apparently they had never encountered a patient that sees double. I finally brought in a drawing and one said "You DO see double!") The therapist said a lot of mights, maybes, and possiblies, but it was the first time there had been a glimmer of hope.
I didn't realize how much I would love to have single vision and yet see out of both eyes until yesterday. (One solution the doctor mentioned was to train my brain to ignore my left eye. I would see single but be blind out of my left eye. thanks). It really is a desire of my heart.
I was expressing a few doubts to Shaun about how likely it would be for the therapy to correct my vision. He shushed me and said it will work because they'll be praying for me. It did not hit me until then that it's something I need to be praying about. It's going to take a miracle from the hand of God for the therapy to work.
I can trace back to elementary school my trait of not getting my hopes up. I've trained myself not to get my hopes up about anything so that I won't be disappointed. If something goes well, I'm ecstatic. If it goes wrong, oh well. But how can I have faith that God will heal me without getting my hopes up and setting myself up for the possibility of a HUGE disappointment?
I can't really imagine it -- I'd be able to see depth perception. (The doctor says I see in a 2D, flat dimension. I see like an artist would paint or following depth cues such as an object farther away is higher and smaller on the picture plane.) I could read without feeling nauseous. I wouldn't have such a hard time driving at night because I won't see double the amount of lights. My reading efficiency might jump to college level instead of a 6th grade level. My left eye might not cross when objects are too close. I'd love to have all of that. I won't pity myself or be mad at God if I see double forever. But wouldn't a correction of vision by an incredible testimony?

I'm scared.

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