I have constant bruises on my body from where I bump into things, and misjudge doorways and bench tops. Being visually impaired whilst living with a three year old is like competing in a crazy obstacle course, blind folded. I end every day with pain killers, for the splitting headache caused by constant eye strain.
I did manage to pull myself out of the depression that was threatening to engulf me. Admittedly through seeing the Dr to increase my medication, but hey, whatever it takes to keep that Black Dog at bay.
I am not defeated any more. I am determined.
My eye specialist told me he thinks I should have a vitrectomy, surgery that I have already had on my other eye. (basically remove the vitreous gel from my eye, that is full of blood from the haemorrhage) If it was successful, it could mean clear vision for the first time in over four years. I may be able to drive again. The specialist even believes it may be possible for me to fall pregnant again, without the risk of blindness. (A big maybe, but still – hope!)
Can you imagine? Can you imagine how incredibly life changing it could be if the surgery worked?
If you can imagine that, then I’m sure you can imagine how completely devastating it was when the surgeon had a quick flick through my (very thick) file and said no. No, he thinks I should wait. Apparently waiting for FOUR FUCKING YEARS is not long enough. Bye bye, on your way, see you in a few months.
After I cried all the way home, I realised, NO. I need to stop feeling defeated, I need to fight for the quality of life I deserve, that my family deserve. This surgeon who looked at my history for all of 10 seconds, has no idea what it is like to live like this. He has no idea how it feels to not remember what life looks like when your vision isn’t clouded by blood. He has no idea what it feels like to have never seen your own daughter, with clear vision. He has no idea of what if feels like to be given hope for a life that had been all but given up on.
On Wednesday I am travelling in to the city to see a new surgeon, and get a second opinion. And I will not leave his office, until I am satisfied that he has a damn good idea of what my life is like; what it has been like, for the past four years. And surely, SURELY he can’t deny me that chance?
Please send me your prayers, positive vibes, strength, hugs, whatever it is you believe can help me, because I am getting ready to fight. I have spent my whole life feeling defeated by my circumstances, not this time. There is nothing more dangerous than a person who has nothing to lose, and something to hope.