For those who are blessed with sight, imagine losing it. Until that moment, sight was something I had taken for granted. I don’t want to go home just yet mom, I said to her, so we drove around, both of us in tears. That morning when I left the house I still had HOPE, I still had a life. That’s all I ever wanted to do, that’s all I knew, that was my identity. At home I would see my motorcycle and car, freedoms I could touch but no longer enjoy along with a career in firefighting and football that was over. I knew that the moment I went home, the magnitude of my new reality would become permanent. The last place I wanted to go was home because I feared that the pain would be too much. The pain, the anger, the heartache, the loss, the sadness, it was all hitting me at once. On the way home, I was consumed with thoughts such as, why is this happening to me? And, what is going to become of me? The fear overwhelmed me to the point my mom had to pull the car over as I began to violently throw up. Everything that mattered to me was gone, replaced with the sole vision of a life-time of possible darkness, daily struggle, and tremendous uncertainty, along with a debilitating fear. It was like a slideshow playing out in my head, one to terrible that I didn’t want to see it! I saw my career, football, my car and motorcycle, my independence, my hopes, my future, all disappear. It was one of the most vulnerable and pivotal days of my life that left me struggling through adversity so immense that it broke me and took me down a somber path so dark, I almost didn’t find my way back. To this day, almost thirty years later, I still recall every grueling moment of that dreadful, life-altering day in great detail, along with the events that followed. I’m a firefighter, a football player, a son, a big brother - I can’t be going blind! In an instant, I knew my life would never be the same. As tears began to stream down my face I said to him, This can’t be happening, I’m only 22. In disbelief, all I could do was sit there, in that hot leather chair, repeating the word NO, NO, NO, NO, to myself. As I snapped back to reality, I realized my mom had broken down and was uncontrollably crying while still squeezing my hand tightly. Through the tormented thoughts and questions battling in my mind I could faintly hear my mom’s sobs and the doctor asking me if I was okay. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of anguish, he delivered the news that I was no longer permitted to drive. He continued to tell us that for my diagnosis, sadly, there is no cure. Despite the expression of intense and raw despair I knew had consumed my face, because I felt it to my core, he went on to say that there is nothing we can do to stop it all we can do is hope that it stabilizes at some point but there is no way of knowing if and when that will happen. Chris, you are going BLIND, and your sight will continue to deteriorate over the course of the next year. In my head, I was thinking, okay, I know something is wrong with my vision and he’s probably going to tell me that I’ll need to wear glasses or at worst, I will need costly corrective eye surgery, no big deal…right? I was not at all prepared for what he was about to say next. I wasn’t able to fully comprehend the magnitude of what he was telling me. In that split-second, any optimism I had left me entirely. I am sorry to say that the outcome is not what we anticipated or hoped for. My heart was pounding, its beats echoed in my ears as I gripped the armrests in anticipation.Īs the doctor enters, my mom squeezes my hand tighter as she notices his concerned disposition. I let go of my mom’s hand only long enough to adjust my shirt in an attempt to cool myself down while squirming, trying to find a bit of relief in the hot leather chair. As we anxiously waited for the specialist in intimidating silence, my hands began to tremble and under my shirt I could feel beads of sweat running down my back. I had recently been put through a barrage of tests, including an MRI, and we were finally about to get the results. I was also experiencing harrowing headaches that were accompanied with flashes of light. My vision had become blurred to the point where I no longer felt safe driving. Although her words are comforting, like a warm hug, I am still consumed with apprehension. Sitting nervously in the doctor’s examination chair, my mom holds my hand and tells me everything is going to be alright. Emotion motivates you it drives you it is the energy and force behind your ability to achieve what you might have thought was once unachievable. Emotion comes from being totally immersed in an experience. 1 Ground Zero…The Journey Begins I believe that to change your life, you need EMOTION.
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