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conuly
The bus was driving somewhat towards the sun, and Ana was sitting on my lap facing the windshield, in the front passenger seat.
She turned to look out the side window (the view was comparatively shady) across from us, then she looked out the windshield again...
Ana: Connie, I'm looking out THIS window instead of THAT one.
Me: Yes - this window is called the windshield.
Ana: Yeah, and this window is like there's holes that I see.
Me: (you can hear the dinging in my head here) Holes?
Ana: Yeah, and they move...?
Me: Yeah, I think I know what you mean. Do you see them often?
Ana: When it's like bright. And it's not up there *points* where it's blue.
Me: Yeah, I think I know what that's called. Does it make it hard to see? (I recognize that this is a leading question, but I didn't know how else to say it!)
Ana: Sometimes. What's it called?
Me: Well, I get something like that, and I'm pretty sure it's scotopic sensitivity, but it might not be a problem, it's not really for me. I'll tell your parents.
Of course, I forgot to tell her dad when I saw him, I was more interested in informing him that she appears to have another urinary infection. (Or possibly a cut on her vagina, but in a public bathroom I had no intention of doing this sort of inspection.) I'll tell 'em later.
And of course it might not be that, and even if it is it might not be serious at all. I already knew she likes to wear glasses and hats on bright days (she says she gets headaches, but other days she's also inclined to forget her eye protection and not admit to having any ill effects, so I don't know for sure. I tend to believe her, her mother and my mother are prone to the most horrible migraines).
I remember my father talking about this with somebody when I was a child. At least, I think he was - all I remember was him saying that for some people, it's a lot easier to read when you put a colored sheet over the paper, and that it's a visual thing, not just a trick. But he didn't mean me, anyway.
She turned to look out the side window (the view was comparatively shady) across from us, then she looked out the windshield again...
Ana: Connie, I'm looking out THIS window instead of THAT one.
Me: Yes - this window is called the windshield.
Ana: Yeah, and this window is like there's holes that I see.
Me: (you can hear the dinging in my head here) Holes?
Ana: Yeah, and they move...?
Me: Yeah, I think I know what you mean. Do you see them often?
Ana: When it's like bright. And it's not up there *points* where it's blue.
Me: Yeah, I think I know what that's called. Does it make it hard to see? (I recognize that this is a leading question, but I didn't know how else to say it!)
Ana: Sometimes. What's it called?
Me: Well, I get something like that, and I'm pretty sure it's scotopic sensitivity, but it might not be a problem, it's not really for me. I'll tell your parents.
Of course, I forgot to tell her dad when I saw him, I was more interested in informing him that she appears to have another urinary infection. (Or possibly a cut on her vagina, but in a public bathroom I had no intention of doing this sort of inspection.) I'll tell 'em later.
And of course it might not be that, and even if it is it might not be serious at all. I already knew she likes to wear glasses and hats on bright days (she says she gets headaches, but other days she's also inclined to forget her eye protection and not admit to having any ill effects, so I don't know for sure. I tend to believe her, her mother and my mother are prone to the most horrible migraines).
I remember my father talking about this with somebody when I was a child. At least, I think he was - all I remember was him saying that for some people, it's a lot easier to read when you put a colored sheet over the paper, and that it's a visual thing, not just a trick. But he didn't mean me, anyway.
