They say every cloud has a silver lining

ELEANOR GOGGIN

SOME people live in a bubble. I think these days I live in a cloud. My world has become nebulous. My eyesight is cloudy. My hearing is cloudy. My brain is cloudy. I suppose my eyesight has always been a tad cloudy. I’ve been wearing one contact lens for years. Both my eyes have the exact same degree of short-sightedness but if I wear one lens then my eyes click into action at different times. One for driving and one for reading. But lately neither eye is clicking into action. If I want to watch anything with subtitles I virtually have to put the television on my lap. If the TV is at a distance I can only see shapes. They could be dead or alive.

I can’t really see people until they are virtually rubbing noses with me. And, unfortunately then when I can see them, I can’t remember who they are or how I might know them. I have often seen what I thought was an attractive guy in a bar and when I manage to get closer I realise the tooth fairy has visited on many occasions and he has a big red face. I order my lenses online and therefore haven’t had an eye test in recent times. Maybe I’ll actually have to go to an optician.

And my hearing is deteriorating rapidly. It hasn’t been great for years but now if there’s background music or indeed a high level of chat, I can’t hear a thing. I used to be able to pick up the odd word but now it’s zilch. I spend entire conversations nodding. Sometimes sagely, sometimes sympathetically, sometimes smiling. I don’t know why I change my expression because I have no idea what people are saying. Guys could be asking me to swing out of chandeliers naked with them and I could be nodding away. So it’s all gradually becoming a mystery. Cloudy shapes. Cloudy voices.