Play & Book Excerpts
Chocolate Cake is the Best Medicine
(Aurora Corialis Publishing)
© Maria Duthie
You could tell from the time I was seven that something was wrong with my vision, but nobody could figure it out. I remember my brother Kevin holding a magazine up to me and saying, “Try to read this.” He wasn’t trying to be unkind; it was just that nobody understood. Thinking maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough to see, I would work even harder. I was the kid who didn’t want to be singled out. I didn’t want attention, and I didn’t want to be different. But, of course, those are the ones who end up being different, right? So, I tried to blend in as much as possible.
I first noticed something was wrong when I was in the first grade. We would do these math problems where you had to color parts of the page a certain color, but I always got it wrong because I was also colorblind. I always thought I was stupid. I remember crying because I could never get it right.
As I got older, I would try to hide it. I would make things up or pretend I could see when I couldn’t. When I was ten, we went to the eye doctor, and he said I must be lying because there was no way I couldn’t see like everyone else. When he’d leave the room, I’d run over to the eye chart, memorize it, and then return to the seat. You know how it is when you can sense that you’re disappointing people, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. After memorizing the chart, I’d get it right when the doctor returned. But, of course, when they changed the chart, the glasses they gave me didn’t work.
My family moved from Whitefish Bay, Wisc., to Florida when I was a teenager, so I was able to go to the Bascom Palmer Eye Institute. That’s when they finally diagnosed me with Stargardt disease. Stargardt’s disease can’t be diagnosed until the eyes mature, which is at thirteen years old. The doctors said my eyesight would continue to diminish throughout my life, and eventually, I would go blind. Not exactly what you want to hear. It wasn’t a massive shock for us, though. I don’t think it was a surprise to my mom and dad, either. They didn’t treat me differently or act like I couldn’t do anything. My mom was always super-supportive, and she was even planning to teach me how to drive if I wanted to learn, in case I ever had a situation where I needed to drive. They let me function as best as possible in society, which greatly helped me.
When I was diagnosed, I didn’t have much training or resources to manage my disease. The school started providing some support, like occupational therapy, but that was merely a lady coming to show me how to use binoculars or magnifiers to read things. None of this made a huge difference in my life. I don’t know if I was given all of the tools I could have been, or if I was not receptive to devices that would make me stand out.
I still enjoyed school, but I couldn’t read things on the board. This was tough because I didn’t want anyone to know I had an issue with my vision. It wasn’t easy for me like it was for the other kids. Plus, I had to walk around with large-text books instead of normal ones. So, I stopped using all the tools they gave me pretty quickly because I wanted to fit in more. In high school, especially as a girl, it was more important not to be different than anything else. I think my vision issue affected my education and my career choices. If I’d had better support, things might’ve turned out differently. But, of course, nobody thought of those things then. I just felt like I didn’t have any choice.
I can’t say I didn’t try as hard as I could in school. But I think I avoided facing the fact that I couldn’t read certain things. Like I said, I wasn’t given much support, other than being allowed to bring my dog to school. Looking back, I think my life would’ve been much different if I had normal vision, but it probably wouldn’t have been as much fun. For example, I might not have gone on as many trips or been as adventurous as I have been. In a way, it’s been a blessing.
My early years were interesting. I was adopted at three months of age, which never really bothered me. I’ve known my whole life that I was adopted, and I’ve always known that my parents had “chosen” me. I was the youngest in a family of four, with a sister who was twelve years older, two teenage brothers dealing with their own issues, and a father who was actively drinking throughout most of my youth.
___
Mom and I, however, could not have been any closer. I adored her as a child and would follow her everywhere. I would watch her (more like spy on her; it was probably a little creepy), but I thought she was the best thing on earth. I don’t know why I was so attached to her. She always said that we had been together in another life, and the story continues to be true.
I have been obsessed with horses since the time I could walk. When I was two, my parents put me on a horse alone. I rode that horse on a trail ride, with a lady leading on her horse, but she didn’t hold mine at all. I was on him all by myself. After that, I was hooked, and I spent every bit of money I had on rides at fairs and carnivals. My friend Julie and I even made TV stands into horses so we could pretend to be riding. All of my Christmas lists started like this: horse, pony, stuffed animal horse, dog, puppy, and anything horse.
I first noticed something was wrong when I was in the first grade. We would do these math problems where you had to color parts of the page a certain color, but I always got it wrong because I was also colorblind. I always thought I was stupid. I remember crying because I could never get it right.
As I got older, I would try to hide it. I would make things up or pretend I could see when I couldn’t. When I was ten, we went to the eye doctor, and he said I must be lying because there was no way I couldn’t see like everyone else. When he’d leave the room, I’d run over to the eye chart, memorize it, and then return to the seat. You know how it is when you can sense that you’re disappointing people, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. After memorizing the chart, I’d get it right when the doctor returned. But, of course, when they changed the chart, the glasses they gave me didn’t work.
My family moved from Whitefish Bay, Wisc., to Florida when I was a teenager, so I was able to go to the Bascom Palmer Eye Institute. That’s when they finally diagnosed me with Stargardt disease. Stargardt’s disease can’t be diagnosed until the eyes mature, which is at thirteen years old. The doctors said my eyesight would continue to diminish throughout my life, and eventually, I would go blind. Not exactly what you want to hear. It wasn’t a massive shock for us, though. I don’t think it was a surprise to my mom and dad, either. They didn’t treat me differently or act like I couldn’t do anything. My mom was always super-supportive, and she was even planning to teach me how to drive if I wanted to learn, in case I ever had a situation where I needed to drive. They let me function as best as possible in society, which greatly helped me.
When I was diagnosed, I didn’t have much training or resources to manage my disease. The school started providing some support, like occupational therapy, but that was merely a lady coming to show me how to use binoculars or magnifiers to read things. None of this made a huge difference in my life. I don’t know if I was given all of the tools I could have been, or if I was not receptive to devices that would make me stand out.
I still enjoyed school, but I couldn’t read things on the board. This was tough because I didn’t want anyone to know I had an issue with my vision. It wasn’t easy for me like it was for the other kids. Plus, I had to walk around with large-text books instead of normal ones. So, I stopped using all the tools they gave me pretty quickly because I wanted to fit in more. In high school, especially as a girl, it was more important not to be different than anything else. I think my vision issue affected my education and my career choices. If I’d had better support, things might’ve turned out differently. But, of course, nobody thought of those things then. I just felt like I didn’t have any choice.
I can’t say I didn’t try as hard as I could in school. But I think I avoided facing the fact that I couldn’t read certain things. Like I said, I wasn’t given much support, other than being allowed to bring my dog to school. Looking back, I think my life would’ve been much different if I had normal vision, but it probably wouldn’t have been as much fun. For example, I might not have gone on as many trips or been as adventurous as I have been. In a way, it’s been a blessing.
My early years were interesting. I was adopted at three months of age, which never really bothered me. I’ve known my whole life that I was adopted, and I’ve always known that my parents had “chosen” me. I was the youngest in a family of four, with a sister who was twelve years older, two teenage brothers dealing with their own issues, and a father who was actively drinking throughout most of my youth.
___
Mom and I, however, could not have been any closer. I adored her as a child and would follow her everywhere. I would watch her (more like spy on her; it was probably a little creepy), but I thought she was the best thing on earth. I don’t know why I was so attached to her. She always said that we had been together in another life, and the story continues to be true.
I have been obsessed with horses since the time I could walk. When I was two, my parents put me on a horse alone. I rode that horse on a trail ride, with a lady leading on her horse, but she didn’t hold mine at all. I was on him all by myself. After that, I was hooked, and I spent every bit of money I had on rides at fairs and carnivals. My friend Julie and I even made TV stands into horses so we could pretend to be riding. All of my Christmas lists started like this: horse, pony, stuffed animal horse, dog, puppy, and anything horse.
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Maria K. McManus Duthie is the owner of Annisage. She is a highly recommended canine and equine massage therapist with over twenty-five years of behavioral and anatomical knowledge, working to promote healthier animals from the inside out.
Maria completed her massage training through the Optissage program in Circleville, Ohio. She also studied animal science at the University of Florida and exotic animal management at the Santa Fe Teaching Zoo, along with earlier studies at Indiana University. She has owned horses for over twenty-five years and has worked as a stable manager, groomer, trainer, and exercise rider in several stables with various disciplines. As a zookeeper for four years, Maria saw firsthand the correlation between physical pain and behavioral problems. She then began to study several forms of healing touch and behavior modification. In addition to exotics, Maria has studied dog, cat, and horse behavior. Annisage is a complete animal wellness service for equine, canine, feline, and exotic animals. The focus on massage and bodywork promotes healthier animals, from house pets to competitors. |
Maria Duthie in Her Happy Place
Photo Courtesy: Maria Duthie |
Author Book Signing:
Woodside Reserve Aiken, South Carolina December 17, 2025 |
