First, don’t be shy about asking for assistance. An airline’s or ship’s crew, hotel clerks, taxi and bus drivers – they’re always happy to help. When you check in for a flight, for example, an airline employee will escort you through security (and usually bring you to the front of the line), then accompany you to your gate. She will also alert the staff at your destination, so that someone can meet your plane and walk you to the next gate, even in another terminal, or through customs and safely to your pickup point.

When your flight is called, take advantage of the opportunity to pre-board. This gives you a few extra minutes to organize yourself in your seat; it also signals the cabin crew that, in an emergency, you would need extra help. Flight attendants will give you a personal safety briefing and make sure that you know where the emergency exits are.

After you arrive at the hotel, even before unpacking, get acquainted with the concierge. He or she is there to advise and assist, and is a wonderful source of local knowledge. A concierge can make restaurant and show reservations and often can get you into something that’s otherwise booked up. When you leave, don’t forget to thank your concierge with a gratuity.

De-stressing a trip actually begins in the planning stages. Keep your sanity by building in some downtime; you’ll get more value (and better memories) from a trip that proceeds at a comfortable pace. No one likes to come home exhausted.

Don’t plan out every single minute of a trip, either. It’s better to add an activity or two once you’ve arrived at your destination and have a better sense of the possibilities. In other words, leave yourself some wiggle room as well as downtime.

Take advantage of local tours. Many cities now have London-style double-decker buses that let you hop on and off. I do this on my first day in a new city, to get an overview; then I know where to spend more time later.

Websites about your destination will tell you what to expect, such as festivals and special events. At certain times reservations and reasonable hotel rates may be difficult to find; or you may simply prefer not to deal with large crowds. Don’t give up; adjust your travel dates instead.

If you’re traveling abroad, check the currency conversion rates before you leave home. Both at home and overseas, by the way, many attractions and events offer discounted prices to the visually impaired. Usually all it takes is a glimpse of a white cane or a service dog, but again don’t be shy about asking. Some places even extend the discount to a sighted guide or driver.

In the United States, a lifetime National Park Access Pass is available at no charge to legally blind U.S. citizens. These passes are available at all National Park offices; bring your documentation.

I have two more minor, yet important, points to share. First, if you’re not yet using raised stick-on dots to help you identify your luggage, your hotel room or even your floor on an elevator panel, get some and give it a try. And, speaking of dots, if you read Braille, ask for such printed matter well in advance. Some companies need two months’ notice to print menus and other handouts in Braille.

With a little foresight, plus an open mind and willingness to ask for help, virtually all of us can travel in comfort and safety. My mission is to create travel opportunities for others who don’t see well, and it’s been a uniquely gratifying experience. As my husband likes to say, it isn’t every travel company that has a blind guide!

When the first patient, Harold Churchy, saw two distinct spots of light, I was hooked.  I recall the sheer amazement we all shared in those early days. But if I could go back and talk to my younger, less gray self, I would tell him, ”You ain’t seen nothing yet!”

By 1998, our work had demonstrated that a retinal prosthesis (an implantable long-term device that uses electricity to stimulate the retina) could potentially restore vision in people with advanced retinitis pigmentosa (RP). So I co-founded Second Sight Medical Products, Inc., to develop the prosthesis. In those early days, there were many skeptics, some claiming it could never work because the retina was too sick, others that the technology was not up to the task.

Backed by a small group of devoted investors, we were nevertheless convinced it could be done.  There were plenty of challenges along the way, but, in the end, with more than $200 million in private and public investment, we succeeded.

In 2002, we started our first clincal trial with the Argus I, a 16-electrode implant based on an established cochlear implant platform. We intended to show that we could stimulate the retina for years without damaging it. (There was some fear that continuous electrical stimulation of the retina might ”burn it out.”)

I recall, vividly, the day we turned on the device in our first patient – and then held our breath as we pointed Harold in the direction of the letter “L” projected on a wall. At first, he said, ”No – nothing, nothing, nothing yet.” And then, ”There’s something! A line… and another line… they look like an ‘L.’”

As much satisfaction as we felt that day, in hindsight, it was just another milestone. We weren’t expecting to show utility with Argus I. But, as it turned out, even with just 16 electrodes (or pixels), the level of vision was useful for our blind volunteers. It helped them navigate, locate objects and, in one case, shoot baskets with a grandson. Patients asked us to commercialize the first implant, but the surgery was too invasive – taking eight hours and requiring an implant behind the ear and in the eye.

In 2007, we began the trial for Argus II, a 60-electrode implant designed from scratch to make it smaller, easier to implant and visually sharper. The study spanned four countries and 30 patients, including 14 in the United States.  We had some adverse events early on, but, thankfully, they were treatable and we learned enough to greatly reduce their occurrence going forward.

I sincerely want to thank all of the patient volunteers from both studies for being incredible pioneers who braved the unknown, with no guarantee of a reward. Without such generous souls, medical science would not be able to advance.

Ultimately, the results of the Argus II trial, which have been published in the journal Ophthalmology, supported market approval in Europe in 2011. In September 2012, an FDA panel of 22 experts voted unanimously in favor of recommending the Argus II for approval, and now the FDA has done so.

With FDA approval, the Second Sight team (now 100 strong) feels a tremendous sense of accomplishment, as if we’ve reached our final destination. But, in fact, it’s just another milestone. Preparing to make the Argus II available in the United States later this year, we continue to improve on the system’s performance and ease of use. The system was designed so that improvements can be achieved through software updates, as with a cell phone or computer.

Twenty-odd years ago, when I embarked on this work to restore vision in blind people, I knew it was a journey that could fill many lifetimes. Although it’s not yet over, we, along with our patient partners and valuable organizations like FFB, are enjoying the journey. Even more important, we are changing the lives of people who previously had no options.

Images courtesy of Second Sight Medical Products, Inc.

Escaping a World Trade Center tower on Sept. 11, 2001, certainly wasn’t easy, but sometimes it seems to pale in comparison to influencing the way many view those of us who are blind. I say this because my Ground Zero ordeal — which I’ve shared in my book, Thunder Dog, and will cover in my session at the Foundation’s VISIONS 2013 conference in June — took place in just one day. Whereas changing attitudes has been a lifelong vocation.

The full title of the book is Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog & the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero. The guide dog was Roselle, who was with me on the 78th floor of the north tower when the first plane hit 20 floors above. Roselle, who has since passed, did more than her job that day, by creating a ripple effect with her complete composure as I and hundreds of others descended 1,463 stairs. She then navigated me to safety on New York’s streets as both towers came tumbling down.

This makes for a compelling story on paper and in the talks I give at universities, corporations and nonprofits worldwide. But I have another story to tell, one I believe can benefit both blind and sighted people. It’s the story of how I came to be in the World Trade Center on 9/11.

I was born two months early in 1950, when premature babies were fed pure oxygen in an incubator to help develop their lungs. That process, however, also damaged the eyes’ blood vessels, rendering many, like myself and Stevie Wonder, blind. My parents were advised to send me off to a boarding school, but they refused, insisting I live a normal life — by attending public schools and preparing for a career.

That wasn’t easy back then. My family and I met with lots of resistance during my formative years. But I was able to earn a master’s degree in physics, then build a career in sales that culminated in heading the New York operations of a Fortune 500 company. The thing is, I got there—and was able, with Roselle’s help, to assist many people out of that tower—because I embrace being blind.

Now, I want to make clear that I wholeheartedly support the Foundation. No one chooses blindness, and because of FFB’s efforts, several clinical trials testing potential treatments are now underway. But life’s not a waiting room, and not everyone, myself included, will benefit from such treatments. So I’m all about helping people live fulfilling lives even with a lack of eyesight.

I should emphasize that I choose “lack of eyesight” instead of “lack of vision” because, although I do not have eyesight, I have lots of vision.  In Thunder Dog, I remind people, “Don’t let your sight get in the way of your vision.”

I have a friend, Don, who, decades ago, was a top sales guy at a big company. Due to diabetic retinopathy, he lost his vision in mid-life, which is understandably difficult. But Don was able to train at the Iowa Department for the Blind, which equips people with the tools they need to either continue or start working.

More than 70 percent of those who are blind and employable are unemployed. And a recent poll shows that going blind is among people’s top five fears. It doesn’t have to be this way.  Anyone losing eyesight needs to associate with blind people who serve as role models. Loss of eyesight means being presented with the challenge of having to learn new things. You’re literally exploring a new world.

Once he was done with his training, and discovered that his employer wasn’t amenable to advancing the career of a blind person, Don started his own business. It flourished to the point where, years later, ready to sell the business, he told me, “Mike, I paid more in taxes last year than what I earned in my best year at my old company.”

What I share in my book, and will share at VISIONS 2013 in Baltimore, is that, no matter what your vocation or circumstance, blindness is not the end of something. It can kick off a personal crusade to help FFB raise funds for research and serve as a new lease on life. If that weren’t the case, I wouldn’t have been in a position to be in the World Trade Center that fateful day or make it out alive with Roselle and so many others.

Picture, above: Michael Hingson, author of Thunder Dog, with his current guide dog, Africa.

But you know what? I can no longer shop for groceries.

Before I explain why, I’d like to mention a book I wrote and published two years ago. It’s titled Eye Envy: Perspectives Into Vision Loss. And while it tells my story, it also features the stories of more than a dozen other people, of various ages and walks of life, affected by retinal diseases. They’re among the hundreds I’ve met in my travels worldwide, as a triathlete, coach, speaker and fundraiser for the Foundation Fighting Blindness. In fact, the proceeds from the book—which you can order, in print, on my website, or as an e-book—go to FFB.

I got involved with the Foundation almost 10 years ago, after I’d been diagnosed with cone-rod dystrophy at the age of 35. Before that, I knew that I had vision problems, but it wasn’t until I hooked up with Dr. Gerald Fishman, a Foundation-funded researcher and clinician, that I discovered the cause. Since then, I’ve dedicated not only my book sales to FFB, but I’ve co-hosted fundraising events in both Florida and Chicago with my parents, and I co-founded the Race to Cure Blindness program, through which athletes leverage their competitions to fundraise for FFB.

I wrote Eye Envy for a couple of reasons. In every way possible, I want to help FFB raise the considerable amounts of money necessary to fund the lab, pre-clinical and clinical-trial work aimed at providing people like myself with treatments and cures. My younger brother, Russell, has also been diagnosed with cone-rod dystrophy. And our paternal grandfather, once a larger-than-life Chicago attorney who loved driving his Cadillacs, playing golf and watching the Cubs and Bears — we watched him deflate in his later years, as the effects of age-related macular degeneration robbed him of his sight. He died just two months before I ran my first race for the Foundation, in 2005.

Now, I’m not married, and don’t have children, but I have five nieces and nephews. And these diseases I’m talking about — they’re hereditary. So, yes, in many ways I’m doing this for myself and my family.

But I also wrote Eye Envy because, over the past decade, I’ve met truly inspirational people who, despite their conditions, live fulfilling lives. And, like me, they once experienced the loneliness and despair that accompany a retinal-disease diagnosis. More than anything, you need to know you’re not alone, and my book is a means of offering the support so many of us need. And for the sighted community, it hopefully provides both inspiration and a glimpse of the low-vision world.

So, back to the groceries. When I wrote Eye Envy, I had some trouble with daily tasks, but not much. A few years earlier, in fact, I was able to drive. My vision, however, has deteriorated significantly in the last year alone. Even in optimal conditions, my vision is twice the legally blind limit.

So shopping in a grocery store — trying to get around others, seeing signs, reading labels — is no longer possible. An Ironman competition is easier for me to navigate than a Whole Foods. And because I live by myself, I have an assistant do it.

Food shopping is just one of many tasks that have become difficult for me. So I’m more determined than ever to help fund treatments and cures. But I also consider myself fortunate. Without this condition, I would not have met many of the people I have and made the same kinds of deep, meaningful connections.

I’m also confident enough in FFB’s abilities that I can imagine the following happening in my lifetime – an eye doctor, after delivering a diagnosis to a patient, saying, “OK, this is what you have. And this is what we’re going to be able to do for you.”

Medical research is a monumentally expensive endeavor that demands investment from nonprofits like the Foundation Fighting Blindness as well as biotech companies and the federal government. It’s a team effort which, in the past, has resulted in a cure for polio and drugs enabling those diagnosed with AIDS to live full and productive lives. Those are just two of innumerable examples.

Not only would the “fiscal cliff” adversely impact long-term public health; it would allow the United States to fall behind other countries and lose valuable time battling diseases such as Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, muscular dystrophy and the many retinal degenerations the Foundation has fought, for more than four decades, to eradicate.

That’s why FFB and more than 50 other health-related nonprofits will join Research!America in its “Save Research” campaign November 12-16. Along with our partners, we will raise public awareness and lobby Congress to change its mind before the January 1st deadline.

To find out how you can aid the Foundation in this effort, check out our “We Need Cures, Not Cuts!” web page, which offers guidance on raising awareness, including through social media. I also encourage you to email President Obama and your local members of Congress directly, which you can do with help from our advocacy tool.

So, what does the “fiscal cliff” mean to those with vision-robbing retinal diseases? Worst-case scenario, the National Institutes of Health (NIH), the world’s largest biomedical research agency, and the National Eye Institute (NEI), the part of the NIH that funds vision research, would face significant cuts in funding. The NIH stands to lose up to $4 billion, the NEI $55 million, if Congress fails to act by the end of 2012.

Clearly, the stakes are high for vision research. Even if Congress does act, it is likely that a longer-term debt reduction plan will be negotiated next year that could negatively impact biomedical research funding generally.

Bill Schmidt, CEO of the Foundation Fighting Blindness

So we all need to remain vigilant in our efforts to ensure that legislators understand the importance of federal investment in research and protect it as a budget priority. The reality is that basic research is not something the private sector can, or will, invest in if public support erodes. As numerous studies have shown, this public investment also leads to the creation of jobs in our biotechnology and pharmaceutical sectors.

So I encourage you to join us and the Research!America alliance next week in engaging with your federal elected officials to ensure that biomedical research funding remains a priority in the federal budget.