I Became Blind
Nineteen years ago today, I took one last look around the Children’s Hospital with blurry vision.
I saw my family, together with the ophthalmologist, holding hands in a circle as we prayed for what was about to happen.
Nineteen years ago today, my Daddy carried me into the operating room and laid me down on the operating table.
And I smelled the watermelon scent that always lulled me to a blissful, dreamless sleep.
Nineteen years ago today, I became fully blind.
And nineteen years ago today, I became cancer-free.
This day goes by several names—my blindaversary, my blind birthday, Classy Glassy Day, but no matter what I call it, it will always be a day that I celebrate.
Yes, it’s the day that I became blind. It’s also the day my little body was free of the retinoblastoma. But this day acts as a marker for much more than that.
It reminds me how far I’ve come.
It reminds me of what my family and I went through, because cancer and blindness isn’t just my story—it’s theirs, too.
It reminds me that everyone who has a disability has a story, and each of those stories are unique and worthy.
It also teaches me things that I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.
It taught me the value of my health, and how nothing in this life can be taken for granted.
It taught me to be thankful for what I have, and who I have.
It taught me that my story has shaped me for the better, that I wouldn’t be who I am without having experienced what I did.
And it taught me that God is here through pain and suffering, and sometimes, it’s through those times that He’s the most visible.
So, happy Blindaversary to… me! I’m excited for what the next year will hold. How will I grow? How will God shape me into the person He wants me to become? I’m excited to find out.
Oh, and I forgot to mention one thing that this day always reminds me to be thankful for:
It isn’t the end of my story.