The impact of visual problems, by Elizabeth Kay

 

Puma

Three and a half years ago I had two cataract operations. I wasn’t happy with the first one, but was told I was worrying about nothing, it would resolve itself in a few weeks,  so I went ahead with the second op on the right eye, which was fine. My left eyelid was drooping, and cutting out light, which meant I could only read on a Kindle as I could alter the brightness and the size of the font. You can’t enlarge illustrations, or tables, or maps, which becomes increasingly frustrating and has a real impact on your understanding of certain books. My optician diagnosed ptosis, but warned me that consultants do not listen to opticians. How true that became.

commissioned illustration for playing cards,
that never went on sale

Consultant after consultant told me I was imagining my poor vision, as if I forced my eye as open as wide as possible I could see perfectly well. Keeping it open was a different matter altogether. The worst response of all was from a consultant renowned for his surgical skill, but not his bedside manner. As an illustrator as well as an author, I had found my inability to do watercolour devastating. His response? “Get yourself another little hobby.” 

I went privately to the surgeon who had done the original operation, but even he refused to believe there was anything wrong. It was as though they all had “Don’t sue us” tattooed to their foreheads, and were so used to gushing praise from grateful patients who had had their sight restored that they couldn’t process anything else. I kept on persisting, though, and eventually I was allocated a younger female doctor who did a series of tests that the big cheeses hadn’t bothered with. “I think it’s ptosis,” she said, “but we don’t operate on that here.”

I asked if I could go to Moorfields, who had operated on the same eye when I was five, and cured the squint that had intermittently returned after the cataract op. My mother was told I might need more than one operation, as accuracy was paramount, but I didn’t. Bang on first time. And Moorfields had an incredibly enlightened attitude towards paediatrics for the 1950s. Going there was fun. Getting the referral this time was a nightmare, but eventually it came through on the 7^th July. There is no sensible public transport to Moorfields, which is at the opposite end of the trust to where I live. My husband had shingles, so couldn’t drive me there; I got a taxi which cost £50. When I walked in I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Just the atmosphere of the place is so Can Do. After a few tests the consultant said, “Yes, of course it’s ptosis, and we can do something about that. How about surgery on the 28^th?” That soon? Wow!

Cuckoo

And then they arranged transport for me, as I walk with stick! The stitches come out the day after this blog post is published, and I think the operation has been a great success. It’s very delicate surgery along the eyelid, requiring many miniscule stitches, and real precision is needed so that the eyelid continues to close properly and you don’t need a second operation. And bang on, for the second time. Moorfields deserves its worldwide reputation. It’s the best!

Hornbill

All of this is really a plea to self-published authors to think carefully about what can be read on a Kindle, and what can’t. Electronic reading devices are a godsend to anyone with impaired vision, but finding out you can’t see certain pages is infuriating. And a word to those who think illustrating their own children’s book is a given, once they have a contract for the text. It isn’t. Publishers always have a list of illustrators they’re dying to use, once the right book turns up, and I wasn’t allowed to even though I’d first met my publisher as an illustrator! Sometimes the person they choose gets it right, and sometimes it’s obvious they haven’t read the text at all and you hate the result. The best illustrator I had was for the Japanese edition of The Divide. Her name is Miho Satake, she paid attention to every tiny detail and her work is a delight. 

I was so pleased I asked for a letter of thanks to be sent to her, only to be told she didn’t speak English. But something must have been conveyed, because a couple of months later the original of the picture that had so impressed me arrived by FedEx. I treasure it. For a different edition I asked about purchasing the illustration I liked best. The artist wanted an arm and a leg for it, even though he knew I was the author. I didn’t buy it. The joy of self-publishing is that you really can do your own illustrations – but get some objective evaluation about whether it’s good enough unless you went to art school, like me. I loved doing my own chapter headings and covers for the e-versions of my books, the copyright kindly transferred to me by the publisher. They’re not all like that, either. I’ve had a blank refusal from a publisher who said they might do it themselves, never did, and prevented me from getting any electronic income from it.

I will need a new glasses prescription for close work, and I won’t know for certain if I can really paint to the standard I want for a few weeks, possibly. I’ll find out tomorrow! Wish me luck!

Original illustrations for Bizarre Beasts