Embracing Irlen Syndrome: one adult’s journey (Part 2)
Embracing Irlen Syndrome: one adult’s journey (Parts 1, 3 and 4) available HERE
Optimistically sceptical
The Irlen Syndrome testing centre was a three hour drive away from where we lived. We were certainly very curious about the address. It was in a residential area and I remember pulling up at the house and wondering how robust this testing could possibly be. It was not in a clinic or allied health centre. The room where we sat was part of a house. I remained optimistic and open minded but scientifically sceptical! My husband sat down at a desk and was asked lots of questions and shown various images, shapes and texts.
“What’s happening on the page?”
The testing process was quite demanding. My husband had to concentrate very hard to read and respond to the questions, counting and relaying what he saw using various coloured overlays and tinted papers. Pale green paper seemed to be the easiest to read from. The diagnostician noted down things and on it went. One of the most important questions that she asked was something that nobody had ever asked my husband. It is not a question that most teachers or family members would ask somebody when they are trying to read from a page. The question was simple and sounded something like this, “What’s happening on the page?” I wondered what she meant. Was she asking what the information was describing? She asked again, “What does the page look like?”
Diverting the rivers
My husband responded to that question very quickly. When he concentrated on the words he began to see white rivers flowing through the paragraphs; words disappeared and then reappeared; the full stops and commas often evaporated from the page. I was stunned. How had he been able to confidently read text books, study notes or set English texts? The answer was simple. He had thought that this was normal and learnt to manage it. This explained why he read slowly and methodically; ran out of time during exams; often reread things to check and recheck; always asked lots of questions and tried to avoid verbal (writing and words) learning; relied on visual (eg images), aural (listening) and physical (hands-on) learning techniques. My husband had developed skills that made him an excellent communicator which was greatly valued by his accounting clients. The diagnostician was quite sure that the rivers and disappearing text would be managed with the correct combination of lens colours. After listening to the exchanges during the testing, the scientist was hopeful but still sceptical.
Rivers of tears
One of my vivid memories of the testing was the huge variety of coloured lenses. Lens after lens after lens. The diagnostician had narrowed the colour range down to a predominantly green/yellow combination. Apparently the precise colour would be one that stopped the print distortions and also could not be detected on the white page. Sceptical scientist emerged again. I sat watching my husband hold up lenses to his face and read paragraphs from a stark, white page. Next lens. More reading. Another lens. More reading. I could hear his words becoming more fluent and the speed of his oral reading was certainly improving. BANG! It was like a switch had been turned on (or off!) in his head and the words began to flow effortlessly. So did my tears.
Passing the sceptic test
I don’t remember much more about that first session. The sceptical scientist was speechless! The lenses were ordered, we paid and left the testing centre with high hopes that these coloured lenses would change so many things. We were given some articles and information to read about Irlen Syndrome. We learnt that my husband’s sensitivity to certain wavelengths of light meant that wearing the coloured lenses when driving at night could also help with the glare of headlights. He suddenly realised that he squinted a lot during night driving and now we had a reason for it. The lenses would take a few weeks to arrive. The lenses were not covered by private health insurance. We could take them to our optometrist to be put into frames and that cost could be claimed. This was only the beginning of what having Irlen Syndrome meant. We had so much to learn about it. My husband was also hesitant to tell anyone at work. He felt colleagues and clients might doubt his abilities which is ironic because those new lenses were about to give him super powers! The lens colour wasn’t very noticeable so most people would think he had glasses for an optical condition. We decided to see how the lenses went before we spoke too much about Irlen Syndrome. Let the colourful charade begin.
(Read More at Embracing Irlen Syndrome: one adult’s journey Part 3)
Author: Dr Annabel Bowcher (PhD), Science Communicator and co-author of the children’s chapter book adventure series, The Story Weavers of Bacalen.
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Further information:
“Almost never are those with reading problems questioned about whether reading is comfortable. It is assumed that reading is equally comfortable for everyone”