I heard unfamiliar medical terms: optic nerve damage and severe trauma.
The doctors operated twice, desperately trying to repair the damage.
Neither procedure restored my sight.
The world I had known disappeared into complete darkness.
At first, I refused to believe it was permanent. I waved my hands in front of my face again and again, convinced that if I waited long enough, I would see them moving.
But nothing changed.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks became months. Eventually, I had to face the terrifying possibility that I might never see the world again.
Losing my independence was almost as painful as losing my vision. At school, I could hear other children racing through the hallways while I carefully counted my steps and ran my fingers along the lockers to find my way.
Sometimes, I hated having to ask for help.
But I refused to let blindness determine the rest of my life.
