For the first decade or so of my life, eyesight was something that I took for granted. Sure, I had to have glasses in fifth grade, but I thought they were pretty stylish and didn’t think much of it. After all, having wire rims on your face was the norm. I didn’t realize how valuable the sense of sight is until I was suddenly left without it.
Right before my freshman year of high school, I went in for a routine eye exam. I suspected that I might need a change of prescription before I was thrown into the fast-paced life of a high school student. My eye doctor, who had become friends with my family through the years, began his usual examination process. I read the charts, did a color vision test, and allowed him to drop the cold dilation drops into my eyes. Knowing what to expect, I walked out of the doctor that afternoon in a complete blur. It takes a few hours for the dilation effects to wear off so I planned for a quiet evening at home, anticipating the next morning when everything would become normal again.
When I woke up the next day, the blurriness had not changed. I could barely fumble my way down the stairs, grasping the banister as I told my mom about my discovery. She sort of brushed it off, thinking I might be overreacting, but after a few more days passed, she realized something was definitely wrong. This began a series of different doctors’ appointments, each time hearing something to the effect of, “stop faking,” or “just muddle through.” I was diagnosed as being legally blind and told that there wasn’t much hope for my future. People told me I’d never drive or be able to succeed in school with such low vision, but I was not willing to accept this.
After a long and difficult journey, I finally found a doctor who could help. Not only was she a sweet, caring doctor, she was also familiar with my other mysterious condition, RSD/CRPS. After finding tangible evidence of a problem in her exam, she concluded that this might be an attack of the RSD monster and prescribed daily vision therapy.
Eventually my hours of therapy paid off and I was able to see more clearly with the aid of bifocal lenses. Like the treatment for RSD in my limbs, where I had to move what hurt, I was forced to move and use my eyes, even when they didn’t seem to work. My doctor was pleased with the results and even wrote a paper about this great mystery.
Why do I say all this? Well, it’s because after my crazy journey (which still is not over), I have learned to not take anything, even eyesight, for granted. As I was forced to change my phone settings to the largest font today, I reminded myself that things could always be worse. I’ve come a long way since wearing two pairs of glasses on my first day of high school in an attempt to be able to see something and not run into walls. While I still wear bifocals and am far from having amazing vision, I am grateful for every sunset I get to experience, every book I am privileged to read, and every picture I get to look at. So, even though I won’t always know who you are until you’re close to my face and I have trouble reading sometimes, there is beauty in the fact that I can see.
Take some time to appreciate your eyes today. Watch something beautiful, read a story, capture a moment on film. Just don’t let this gift of sight go to waste.
College on Crutches 