麻豆视频

I've known for some time that the day was inevitable – the day I'd drive for possibly the last time.

I drove my car, a 2007 Pontiac G5, to the Mercury's parking lot on Aug. 6 so I could sell it. I figured it would be easier to sell sitting out in front of the office than in my condo building parking lot. The car was sold last week.

It's not going to be replaced. And that's for the better.

Back in the summer of 2004, I was diagnosed with an eyesight condition called retinitis pigmentosa, a rare condition which affects the retinas and causes a host of vision-related issues, including peripheral vision, night vision, depth perception and colour differentiation, such as trying to detect something light on a light background.

There is no cure for RP at this time, although some diligent, hard-working and brilliant people continue to look for breakthroughs. We know a lot more about conditions that affect the front of the eyes than the back.

When I look back, I could see the indicators from an early age that something wasn't right. I've always struggled to follow the dark scenes in movies. I had a hard time seeing white chalk on a blackboard in school, and I've always needed someone to watch my golf ball and help me find it when golfing.

Shortly after my diagnosis, we sought out a second opinion that said I didn't have RP; rather, my retinas weren't fully developed. They wouldn't get better, but they wouldn't get worse. A third appointment in B.C. in 2019 confirmed the RP.

I've noticed my eyesight gradually getting worse. There hasn't been a marked decline in sight from one year to the next, but over 19 years, those slight decreases on a year-to-year basis add up.

I did lose my licence for about 4 1/2 months in the summer and fall of 2004. My family and I fought like hell to get it back, with multiple appeals, including a hearing in Regina, and those efforts were rewarded in December of that year, but with a daytime-only restriction, which I requested, since my eyesight at night was not at the level that would be safe to drive. Obviously, it wasn't a big deal during the spring and summer months, but in the fall and winter, the opportunities for driving were very limited. 

In recent years I've only been able to drive within Estevan city limits.

I've known for a couple of years now that the day would come in which I would have to surrender my licence. I haven't felt comfortable behind the wheel for some time. I have been paranoid about getting in an accident and injuring somebody.

Even the day I drove my car to the office and parked it there, it was a Sunday at 7 a.m. during a long weekend, when few would be on the road. 

From my perspective, it was better for me to make the decision to stop driving, rather than having SGI or the courts make that decision for me, because if they did, it's likely because something happened that forced a decision.

Yes, there have been advancements in vehicle technology in the past few years that have helped make driving safer, such as back-up cameras, lane assist and even warning signals of a potential collision, but those only go so far. Ultimately it's still incumbent on the motorist to be able to drive safely, at least until the fully-autonomous vehicles hit the market.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to drive again. I hope that at some point, there'll be a cure for the RP, not just so people like me can regain some independence, but so that kids and adults who have the more severe strains of RP can see the face of a loved one.

Thankfully there are people working tirelessly to find that cure.

I'm grateful for the people who have offered support over the past 19 years, by providing a ride, especially on a frigid winter night after an Estevan Bruins' game, or a little helping hand when absolutely necessary, and I'm thankful for the support that will continue into the future.

I'm also grateful for the company I work for, Glacier Media, which has been very understanding about my disability since I became a Glacier employee in the fall of 2005.

Also, I'm grateful for the support of Teresa Howie and Carrie Whitman for the unwavering support they showed to me when I was first diagnosed in 2004 while working for Lifestyles. And I've had the back of all of my publishers and teammates at Lifestyles and the Mercury over the past 19 years.

The integrated pathway and sidewalk project in Estevan has also been a big help, as it has made Estevan a much easier and safer community for pedestrians to navigate, especially along Kensington Avenue.

I miss driving. I've missed driving at night for the past 19 years. I've particularly missed driving outside of Estevan the past few years. It's not just the ability to drive to events in rural communities and interact with people in those towns and villages, but it's the chance to jump in my car and go for a long drive in the country on a weekend off.

Losing a licence, even a restricted one, is a lifestyle change.

For those who are able to drive, I hope you don't take it for granted. I hope you understand that it is a privilege, and you need to respect the safety of others, including pedestrians, when behind the wheel.

As for me, I'll be fine, regardless of if, or when, I get to drive again.