The last thing I'll ever see...
Donation protected
*** Help me light up the dark ***
I was born completely blind. Over my 33 years, we stopped counting how many eye surgeries I had – More than 40 took place prior to the age of three. I went from no sight those first three years to being able to read and walk without using a white cane from the ages of three to fourteen. Then, another surgery took most of my vision when my right eye collapsed.
Since the age of fourteen, my vision has slowly decreased from being able to count fingers to seeing light, dark, and blobs of indistinct color. My most recent eye surgery was a cornea transplant in my left eye in 2011, when my eye sprang a leak.
Cornea transplants have a limited shelf life. I knew the 2011 transplant would fail in time, but I had no idea how spectacularly and painfully it would do so.
I have an eye infection in my left eye. It is not foreign bacteria invading. My body is rejecting the cornea. My body is deconstructing the cornea molecule by molecule. Currently, it looks like the surface of the moon. And, there’s no stopping point in sight.
Meanwhile, the pain is incredible. The gentlest of eye drops feel like a punch to the eye. It takes up to an hour to stop the tears each time, no matter how I try to stay calm. I’ve never felt repetitive throbbing, burning, bruising pain like this in any of my previous eye difficulties.
Now, some people wonder why I would fight to save such insignificant vision. I can’t see to read or drive a car, after all. Imagine never looking outside and knowing if it is day or night. On cloudy days, you wouldn’t even have the sun on your face to tell you. You would never see the brilliance of a red rose or the stripes on a beloved cat. You would never know if your clothing matched or watch your lover’s hair as gray divided and conquered. You would be in the dark. The dark would never end. And, as time passed, your memory would erode, and you’d forget what colors even mean. That’s what I’m facing.
The bottom line is that, in weeks or months, my body will eat a hole in my own eye. The pain of this process or the resulting collapse of the eye will cause me to have the eye removed. It’s a ticking bomb. Previously, I was a candidate for other cornea reparation surgeries, but no longer. My eye has been traumatized too much, and there’s no “good” tissue left to sew a new cornea onto. I’m a textbook case of cornea rejection.
Here is where I am in my treatment. hourly, I take the strongest prescription antibiotic eye drop. I use gel cold packs to reduce the pain. I’ve had my eye cultured to check if there’s anything we’ve missed. The next steps are to have a customized antibiotic compounded hours away and drive to get it, once we have the results of the culture. But my doctor holds out no hope for saving the eye. He’s buying time and doing his best to save me suffering.
My point to this campaign came from my significant other’s recent thoughtful suggestion. He wants one of the last things I ever see to be the beauty of creation, something to stay with me and comfort me as long as possible. His wish is to take me to Myrtle Beach, to see the water, the sunrise, and the sunset in all its maritime brilliance.
We have reservations (See The Caravelle Resort’s video). We are going. What I’m asking for is help with gas money, food, and other expenses. We have six hours to drive in a low-mileage Jeep. Honestly, the cost of the trip will be financially crippling, but there’s some moments in life when you do what feels right; you do the thing you won’t regret doing in a few decades. I don’t want the regret that I didn’t take my last chance to be visually compelled by the glory here on Earth.
I haven’t spent a night at the beach since I was a toddler. This campaign is a lofty goal, and a huge step for a homebody, like myself. I just know I’m loved, and I’m going to go into the dark bringing the light of that love with me.
Thank you for your time and attention. Please contact me with any questions/comments you may have. I’m also on Facebook.
I was born completely blind. Over my 33 years, we stopped counting how many eye surgeries I had – More than 40 took place prior to the age of three. I went from no sight those first three years to being able to read and walk without using a white cane from the ages of three to fourteen. Then, another surgery took most of my vision when my right eye collapsed.
Since the age of fourteen, my vision has slowly decreased from being able to count fingers to seeing light, dark, and blobs of indistinct color. My most recent eye surgery was a cornea transplant in my left eye in 2011, when my eye sprang a leak.
Cornea transplants have a limited shelf life. I knew the 2011 transplant would fail in time, but I had no idea how spectacularly and painfully it would do so.
I have an eye infection in my left eye. It is not foreign bacteria invading. My body is rejecting the cornea. My body is deconstructing the cornea molecule by molecule. Currently, it looks like the surface of the moon. And, there’s no stopping point in sight.
Meanwhile, the pain is incredible. The gentlest of eye drops feel like a punch to the eye. It takes up to an hour to stop the tears each time, no matter how I try to stay calm. I’ve never felt repetitive throbbing, burning, bruising pain like this in any of my previous eye difficulties.
Now, some people wonder why I would fight to save such insignificant vision. I can’t see to read or drive a car, after all. Imagine never looking outside and knowing if it is day or night. On cloudy days, you wouldn’t even have the sun on your face to tell you. You would never see the brilliance of a red rose or the stripes on a beloved cat. You would never know if your clothing matched or watch your lover’s hair as gray divided and conquered. You would be in the dark. The dark would never end. And, as time passed, your memory would erode, and you’d forget what colors even mean. That’s what I’m facing.
The bottom line is that, in weeks or months, my body will eat a hole in my own eye. The pain of this process or the resulting collapse of the eye will cause me to have the eye removed. It’s a ticking bomb. Previously, I was a candidate for other cornea reparation surgeries, but no longer. My eye has been traumatized too much, and there’s no “good” tissue left to sew a new cornea onto. I’m a textbook case of cornea rejection.
Here is where I am in my treatment. hourly, I take the strongest prescription antibiotic eye drop. I use gel cold packs to reduce the pain. I’ve had my eye cultured to check if there’s anything we’ve missed. The next steps are to have a customized antibiotic compounded hours away and drive to get it, once we have the results of the culture. But my doctor holds out no hope for saving the eye. He’s buying time and doing his best to save me suffering.
My point to this campaign came from my significant other’s recent thoughtful suggestion. He wants one of the last things I ever see to be the beauty of creation, something to stay with me and comfort me as long as possible. His wish is to take me to Myrtle Beach, to see the water, the sunrise, and the sunset in all its maritime brilliance.
We have reservations (See The Caravelle Resort’s video). We are going. What I’m asking for is help with gas money, food, and other expenses. We have six hours to drive in a low-mileage Jeep. Honestly, the cost of the trip will be financially crippling, but there’s some moments in life when you do what feels right; you do the thing you won’t regret doing in a few decades. I don’t want the regret that I didn’t take my last chance to be visually compelled by the glory here on Earth.
I haven’t spent a night at the beach since I was a toddler. This campaign is a lofty goal, and a huge step for a homebody, like myself. I just know I’m loved, and I’m going to go into the dark bringing the light of that love with me.
Thank you for your time and attention. Please contact me with any questions/comments you may have. I’m also on Facebook.
Organizer
Lori Joyce Parker
Organizer
Franklin, NC
