The “Take-A-Number” Dispenser Made Me Cry

It’s been exactly a month since the first hospital visit that started the ball rolling with finding out I am positive antinuclear antibodies (+ANA), have Uveitis, and also possibly the eye disease called pars planitis.

imageThis past month may have been the most transformative I have ever lived. A month ago, I could barely see. A month ago, I was dealing with headaches and pain that I associated with the stress going on in my life (finishing a Masters, starting my career as a professor, finally being secure enough to live authentically). A month ago, I was scared that there was something very wrong with me.

But, this whole ordeal has shown me how much is RIGHT.

From friends showing love via texts and calls and Facebook, to my rock Jelaine doing so much (read: EVERYTHING) to help keep me moving in a positive direction, I have seen so much that is good and right and worth appreciating in life. It really is the “little things” that mean the most.

One little thing reality-checked me today, though:


I could see the ticket – A893. I could see it!

A month ago, no matter how far or close I held it, I couldn’t see the letters and numbers. Letters and numbers, things I’ve known for 98% of my life, some of the most simple concepts, escaped me. But not today!

I was overwhelmed, right there in public, and had to walk to a corner and gather myself. The beauty of seeing that little ticket was unexpected, and I was suddenly aware of everything that I had been missing without even realizing it.

What a great gift.

Everything seems more beautiful, almost like I’m seeing things for the first time. I watched a construction crane from the train platform as I waited to go home, and it made me smile to be able to watch it, but to marvel at feats of technology and the ability of it to captivate us all at any age. I saw a guy help his girlfriend with her coat, which gave me warm fuzzies. The sky was clear. Someone graffiti’ed a hilarious frog on a building in Deep Ellum. When we sat down to a gorgeous stir fry, I watched the stream rising from my plate and was grateful – we spent time together, making nourishing food that we could sit and enjoy with a glass of vino and some tunes. On the couch, Izzy laid her head on Jelaine’s leg, and I choked up at the tenderness. A month ago, I wouldn’t have been able to see any of it, the giant crane or across the living room.

Life is full of so much good. Nearly losing my sight helped me see that.

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Excuse any typos or uncapitalized i’s. I am, after all, still really impaired. 🙂