It was a normal day in August. I didn’t pay any special attention to the blueness of the sky or to the colour of the leaves that morning. I didn’t memorize my loved ones' features or the allure of the city street as I made the trek to the doctor’s office.
We pushed it too far that day with exercises meant to treat my Post Concussion Syndrome. I became overwhelmed with intense fatigue and lightheadedness. I felt pretty crappy but it was all relatively normal. It wasn’t until I was allowed a seat that I really noticed something was wrong. At first I thought I’d imagined it. I tried shutting and jarring my eyes but the room continued to darken. My stomach dropped as I widened my eyes attempting to take in the room one last time. I memorized the green walls, the wooden desk in the corner. There were people next to me but I could no longer see them. The lights kept dimming.
The words I uttered next were filled with dreadful realization, “I feel like I’m going blind.” My dad and the physiotherapist came into view, “What?” “My vision is dimming. I think I’m going blind.” I blinked back tears. The picture before me was almost identical to when my eyes fluttered close. There was silence on my right side. I needed an answer. I clenched my teeth, “Why is it happening? Why can’t I see?” More silence, followed by “I don’t know.” My heart shattered and my mind along with it. I began to hyperventilate. All I could do was hold on to my dad for dear life as the physiotherapist ran in panic to find the doctor. I wondered if I would ever see again, it was a petrifying thought. When the doctor returned, he explained that my overwhelmed brain had shut off the parts it’d deemed unnecessary for survival in the present moment. He eventually managed to restore my vision to its former glory. That evening I witnessed one of the most beautiful moments of my life: a fiery sunset painted across the sky. I’d watched the sun rise and fall countless times over the course of my lifetime but never had I appreciated it as much as in that moment. A realization dawned on me as a tear escaped my eye, of how close I’d come to never again seeing the light.
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