The eyes have it: Learning to live with glaucoma

The ability to see well is obviously crucial to everybody, but what about those whose talents lay in conveying what they see so that others may also see it?

‘The Boulevard Montmartre at Night’ by Camille Pissarro, on display at the National Gallery, London. (photo credit: WIKIPEDIA)
‘The Boulevard Montmartre at Night’ by Camille Pissarro, on display at the National Gallery, London.
(photo credit: WIKIPEDIA)
 I must have been about five years old when I first heard the word “glaucoma.” My grandmother had returned from the hospital completely blind. “It was the glaucoma,” everybody said. Some decades later, I finally understood what it meant. Glaucoma is the build-up of pressure from the fluid in the eye. Untreated, it damages the optic nerve, causing loss of sight, which can never be restored. Almost 80 million people worldwide are said to suffer from the condition, and a fair proportion of them are unaware of it. 
Opticians, who test eyes and prescribe glasses, are not required by law in Israel to measure eye pressure during a routine eye check. In the UK, the US and many other countries, they are. Thus it was that my own glaucoma was only diagnosed after I had already lost 80% of the sight in my left eye. Like many older people, or even as young as 40, I had assumed that the evident dimming of my vision was due to a cataract, as, indeed it was. But there was this other thing, which was only explained to me when my optician suggested I consult an eye doctor. She measured the pressure in both my eyes and promptly sent me off to a glaucoma specialist.
He prescribed a daily routine of two different kinds of eye drops, followed by regular checks to measure the pressure, the visual range and the actual vision. He explained to me how common my condition was, how hard it was to recognize without pressure tests, that it tended to run in families and that any number of well-known sufferers managed to carry on successful professional lives in spite of it. As soon as I got home, I googled “famous people with glaucoma.”
I could see what my surgeon meant. Having the condition for 20 years had not prevented Bono, the lead singer in U2, from reaching the height of his profession, though it did explain why he always wears sunglasses (Sufferers tend to be sensitive to light, especially I guess, to a spotlight). Opera singer Andrea Bocelli, who was born with congenital glaucoma, lost his sight at the age of 12 from a brain hemorrhage following a football accident. Author James Joyce went blind from a cataract and glaucoma in his left eye and had only 10% of sight in his right eye. The list is long and persuasive.
The ability to see well is obviously crucial to everybody, but what about those whose talents lay in conveying what they see so that others may also see it? I long ago learned that Impressionist artist Claude Monet had gone blind during his years of painting, and because he frequently returned to the same subjects, it was possible to discern his failing sight in his work. He endlessly painted the water lily pond in his garden. Later versions show a blurring of the colors which become increasingly dark. Monet had cataracts he initially refused to have removed. When he finally agreed to surgery, after realizing he was checking what color he was using by reading the label on the tube, he wrote about how different the colors he had been using looked to him.
Some critics of Impressionism have unkindly suggested that the whole movement came about because the artists had problems with their eyes. This is, at best, a questionable thesis since there is no evidence that all Impressionists had visual impairment. On the other hand, quite a few of them did, including my favorite, Camille Pissarro. In fact, his work – and that of several others – leads me to wonder whether a certain degree of visual disability can be an advantage. Pissarro had a condition called decryocystitis in his left eye, caused by a blockage in his tear duct. Because of it he tried to avoid wind and dust, so he painted his outdoor scenes looking through a window. If his tears resulted in paintings such as “The Boulevard Montmartre at Night,” they were an aid to sheer beauty.
After I had followed my eye-drop routine for almost two years, my surgeon, who happens to be skilled in the procedure called trabeculectomy, advised that it was time for me to have an operation. It was performed by two surgeons, one to remove the cataract and implant a new lens, the other to insert a tiny tube in my eye to ease the flow of the fluid and thus regulate the pressure. The aim was to preserve the 20% of sight that remained in my left eye. So far, I can say it has worked and I can add my modest contribution to those whose visual disability has not brought about an end to visual activity, by my continuing to contribute to The Jerusalem Report.
Footnote: ‘The ayes have it’  is the cry by the speaker in the British House of Commons when a majority has voted in favor of a motion.
The writer is an author, former journalist and former head of the British Desk at the Jerusalem Foundation