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Darkness. That was the first thing I saw. Sighs of relief. That was the first thing I heard. When my eyes opened, things were no clearer. Blurred colors and blob-like shapes. My parents were so happy to see that I was okay.
Unfortunately, I wasn't.
We were home. I had been home for merely two days before my parents realized that, with my diagnosis of asthma, it would be best to move to a less industrialized place. So, we moved to where I am now. A nice little place, signified by many trees and friendly people. When I reached the age of six months, my father knew something was really wrong with me. He was wearing a striped shirt, and didn't understand why I couldn't see it. Then it hit him.
I was practically blind.
My father knew this because he was once the same way. My mother heard him and took me to the doctor.
The doctor walked out and sighed, clearly tired after many hours of trying to figure out my problem. He said sadly "I am sorry. I can't really do anything for her..." A sad, silent moment followed. "... But I may know someone who can."
He told my parents about laser eye surgery, relatively new and improved at the time, and no where near perfected. My parents spent a long time mulling it over and discussing it before they agreed.
They knew that if the surgery failed, I would be blind. But if we did nothing, I would be blind anyway.
My parents met a doctor who specialized in eyes. Doctor Devaro. He would become my go-to doctor when I had to have my eyes rechecked. He handed my parents the papers and asked them kindly to sign while the prep team got me ready. My parents signed it and handed it back.
The surgery began.
My family was relieved to find out that the surgery was a success. I was going to be able to see!
...with the assistance of glasses.
I was later diagnosed with many more problems:
Flat feet.
Scoliosis.
Aspergers.
Anxiety.
And others. It was unfortunate, but it was something I would have to live with.
And so my life really begins.