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BLINDSIDED
 

Anthony Bouchér

As Anthony Bouchér well remembers, he went in to get new eyeglasses and came out without eyesight.
 
The saleswoman told him he would have to submit to an eye exam because it was “standard procedure”. He agreed. “I was 46 years old and it was certainly possible my prescription had changed a smidgen in the last two years.”
 
But instead, he was told he needed to go to Northern Colorado Eye Care immediately.  The technician said. “DO NOT drive yourself there. Have someone come and get you. I’m going to call right now and tell them you’re coming.” He managed to blurt out something along the lines of “What? Why?”
 
“The doctor explained that I had a condition called “end-stage pigmentary dispersion glaucoma”. To put that in layman’s terms, the pigment (colored part) of my eyes was flaking off and clogging the eye’s drainage canals. This causes the eye pressure to rise, which (irreparably) damages the optic nerve and causes vision loss.
 
“My pressure levels were 58 and 62, left to right!  I needed immediate trabeculectomies and shunt placement. I was also declared “legally blind”, a term I find perplexing to this day since I have yet to meet an “illegally blind” individual.
 
“I know what you’re thinking: ‘How could he be going blind and not know it?’ I had the same question myself while I swam through the river of denial. The answer is simple and straightforward: Glaucoma is called ‘the silent thief of sight.’ It’s not painful, and it is very, very gradual except in rare cases. As you lose your peripheral vision you turn your head. A lot. You just don’t realize you’re doing it. 
 
“A decade later, I could write a book about the many challenges I’ve faced since I was diagnosed. There were the days of waking up with my eyes glued shut from dried blood, making me think I had gone completely blind. There were the painful surgeries that have left my eyes unrecognizable when I look in the mirror. There is the anger and depression that have driven me perilously close to destroying almost two decades of sobriety and caused me to lash out at my family and closest friends, who are guilty of nothing except loving me the most when I deserved it the least. There’s the frustration of not looking ‘disabled’ but having my body betray me daily as I routinely stumble over (or into) something. 
 
“Even though glaucoma cannot really be prevented, I’ve been known to chastise my family and friends when they don’t go see their eye doctors regularly, even if they don’t wear glasses. Had I gone a year sooner, I might have had an extra five years of eyesight. I often think about what I will miss; would an extra five years let me see another grandchild with my own eyes?  Would I see if my two still-single daughters look as breathtaking as their sister did walking down the aisle on their wedding days? They will, of course.
 
“I also feel guilty every time I need to ask my family for a ride because there is no public transportation in the rural area where I live. I feel even guiltier about the opportunities my family has given up and the many hours we’ve all worked at multiple jobs so we could pay the crippling medical debt of all those surgeries. The tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars that could have gone toward my grandchildren’s education.
 
“Today, less than 10 percent of my vision remains, and even the doctor isn’t sure when I will be entirely blind. At best I have five to six years, but it could be tomorrow. The light fades faster every year, and with it my freedom ― freedom to work, to drive, to pick out a T-shirt, the things most people take for granted.
 
“I’ve come to terms with my fate, to some degree, and I hope our retirement savings will get us through our remaining years. But I worry about the many Americans who don’t seek out medical care because they cannot afford it, or because they have not been properly educated about the vital importance of preventive care. 
 
“But I try to set aside such negativity. I look at what I’ve gained. Motivation. Determination. And, given the confluence of my medical issues and the current political climate, I have developed a passion that demands that I advocate for the disabled community. Politicians seem to forget that we vote.
 
“Best of all, this past June, I received an envelope in the mail. Even though little of my sight now remains, I could see enough to recognize the college diploma I finally earned at age 56 Summa Cum Laude -- from Southern New Hampshire University with a BS in Business Studies, Human Resources Management (English minor). I am currently enrolled in the Master’s Degree program at the University of Colorado Boulder in Organizational Leadership, Employee Relations and Labor Law specialty track. I’ve also been asked to join the board of a nonprofit that helps disabled students apply to college and find scholarship opportunities.
 
“I may not see the future clearly, but I know I still have one, and I want to be here as long as I can to experience it.”