Me and RP (Part I)

As many of you may know I have retinitis pigmentosa (RP). RP is a genetic eye condition that leads to gradual vision loss, primarily affecting peripheral and night-vision (e.g. low-light and bright-light conditions). As I get ready to participate in the Oregon VisionWalk this coming weekend, I wanted to (1) describe an experience I had several years ago (this blog - Part I) which involves my vision (or lack thereof); and (2) share my personal thoughts and feelings about living with RP (next blog - Part II).

Without further ado, here's Part I (I apologize for the length in advance):

I've got many friends and family members who would agree that being a passenger with me behind the wheel is a nervy experience. I've always felt like a bit of a clumsy oaf; bumping into things, tripping over my own feet, struggling to navigate at night, these were all regular occurrences in my life. But, I didn't think much of it until I had a nervy driving experience all to my own. Until now, this is an experience that I have not shared with many people...

I was driving home alone from birthday gift shopping at the Super Mall in Auburn, WA and after a wrong turn, I ended up in an area I wasn't familiar with. Stopped at a red light, I noticed that the road crossed four railroad tracks ahead. The light turned green and the car next to me peeled off (high school kids out being crazy), while I slowly accelerated through the intersection and towards the railroad crossing(s). Something didn't feel right to me as the car began to pick up speed; a feeling that was reinforced by an ominous train whistle that pierced the air. I looked in my rear view mirror as I approached the first set of railroad tracks and noticed the cars behind me had stopped at a second traffic light that I had previously failed to notice; a light that was red to keep the tracks clear for the oncoming train. "Thunk-thunk". My car crossed the first set of tracks and I began to panic as I approached the second set of four railroad tracks. My first reaction was to hit the brakes as it began to dawn on me that I was playing chicken with a train. Train versus Corolla? Train wins and it's not pretty. But where was the train?

A second whistle pierced my thoughts (and if it's one thing I can do, it's analyze...probably to a fault) and I fought off the urge to stop; afterall, it's not wise to stop on railroad tracks. "Thunk-thunk." I cleared the second crossing and was coming up to the third crossing when it dawned on me that I needed to stop looking in my rearview mirror at the stopped traffic and start trying to figure out where this looming train was. I frantically scanned left and right as my front tires ("Thunk") and then the rear tires ("-thunk") cleared crossing #3. Another whistle. It felt like the train was in the passenger seat next to me. The earth rumbled from its proximity. But where was it? Why couldn't I see the train?

My eyes darted left and right as I approached the last of the four crossings. I silently pleaded for my eyes to locate the train, but my vision didn't seem to work in my panicked state. Left and right. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Left and right. I was mere feet from the final set of tracks at this point. Left. Right...THERE. There was the train. Just as my front bumper crossed the track, I had finally spotted the train off to my right through the front windshield. It was close and quickly getting closer, dwarfing my Corolla as I crossed the tracks. I could see the engineer and we locked eyes. I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "what the $#%@ are you doing?!" I couldn't take my eyes off that looming train. That incredulous engineer. What was I doing? Time seemed to stop.

"Thunk-thunk." My back tires cleared the tracks and snapped me back into the moment. I was clear of the railroad tracks. I looked at my rearview mirror and just beyond my rear bumper, I saw nothing but the steel side of the massive engine car. The train had missed me by no more than a foot. Eyes back to the road ahead of me, I approached another intersection and another red light. I stopped. Those crazy high school kids were idling next to me. They had seen the train and decided to be crazy and cross the tracks anyways. The driver rolled down his window and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up. A thumbs up? They must of figured I had seen it too and had "out-crazied" them with my unintended game of chicken. The light turned green and the high schoolers peeled off. As they did, a passenger leaned out of the back window and yelled, "That was crazy!"

With these words echoing in my head, I slowly proceeded through the intersection and pulled over onto the shoulder. I put the car in park and instantly began to shake uncontrollably. That was crazy. I had just been inches away from a moving train. What's worse is that I didn't see the signal light OR the train until it was almost too late. My shaking turned to sobbing and I sat there on the side of the road shaking and crying until I had no more shaking or crying left in me. I then took a deep breath, collected myself and slowly pulled back onto the road to make my way home.