Closed doors, open windows

I’m guest posting today at George Rede about my journey to blindness.

Come give it a read:

image of the sea seen through an open window

On July 24th, 2007, my quest to save the last vestiges of my vision began. I left my small apartment in Tallahassee, Florida, with my husband and nine-month-old baby, and drove down to Miami International Airport, because I refused to board a connecting flight to Rio alone. My goal was to undergo glaucoma surgery, which I couldn’t afford in the U.S., but which I could receive in Brazil with my health insurance.

Most people in the U.S. measure normal sight at a distance of twenty feet. A 20/20 vision is the norm, but back then, my ophthalmologist had mine measured at 235/400, according to my medical file (for my left eye). I could see only through the periphery of my left eye, which was my dominant one. With my right, I could see no more than light and shadows.
Whenever I moved and needed to see ahead, I’d look sideways (all the way to the right), so that I’d have the periphery of my left eye focused to the front. It made for awkward moments with people who’d think I was focused somewhere else when talking with them.

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