Growing old

My mother's loosing her sight. So's my father. She's got the dry type of macular degeneration. They can't do anything for it. My father needs a magnifying glass to read the computer, or any official papers - none of which are ever written big enough.

His sister remarked sadly how he always used to have a book in his hands.

My mother can't see the smudges on her own clothes, but depends on someone else to warn her. If someone comes up to her in the street to say hello she doesn't know from looking at them who it is, so she's asked people to say their name, but they forget she can't see. I forget.

My mother now can't comment on what I'm wearing, whether I look business-like or smart. I miss that. We forget she can't see us, so my father nods when she asks a question, or says things like, "I'm just putting this here" and she can't see what this is or where here is.

I mustn't come into the room silently because she may not hear me, either because she doesn't hear too well now, or because she's listening to tapes. My father has discovered BBC podcasts and is going to download some to burn to a CD for her to listen to on her mp3 player. You need a good friend like that when your facilities fail you and you get dependent on others.