In 2006, I had an allergic reaction to an ingredient in prescribed medication from my doctor. (This ingredient has since been banned in the UK.) A week after starting the medication, I began to feel unwell and stopped taking it due to heart palpitations and other negative side effects.
A week after discontinuing the medication, I developed blisters in my mouth, which soon spread. I also had difficulty breathing due to internal blisters. I was admitted to the hospital and diagnosed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome, a condition where the body attacks its own membranes.
My eyes, nose, throat, and skin resembled someone who had been burned.
After several days of treatment in intensive care, I was referred to Southampton Eye Hospital. The damage to my eyes was severe, and without intervention, I could have permanently lost my sight. Fortunately, the consultants were trained in the exact pioneering surgery I needed.
During the surgery, they took a piece of membrane from an amniotic sac and sewed it into each eye to prevent the eyelids from touching the eyeballs, allowing my eyes time to heal naturally.
The procedure left me temporarily blind, which gave me some understanding of how the world feels without sight. It filled me with admiration for anyone who navigates life without vision.
At the time, my four children were young, with the youngest being only nine months old. This presented challenges I had never imagined. How could I care for little ones when I struggled to care for myself? While the older children had some understanding, they just wanted their mum and needed things from me, which I found difficult to provide.
I had no choice but to rely on others, which was hard for me. I couldn’t even dress myself because I didn’t know if the clothes matched. I struggled to tell if I was using the right shampoo, and changing my daughter’s nappy was a real challenge—although I did my best!
Toys became my biggest hurdle. If I wanted to move around the house, they were constant trip hazards. The children tried to clean up, but it was hard for them to remember all the time, and stepping on left-behind Lego became a painful daily occurrence.
I found some comfort in listening to the TV. I would “watch” programs I had seen before, picturing the people and surroundings, which felt familiar and reassuring.
Cooking was out of the question. I didn’t feel confident enough to attempt it, and the risks were too high.
Leaving the house was a strange and frightening experience. Everything I once took for granted became an enormous effort, and it was exhausting. I worried about getting in people’s way, missing a step, or falling. I had to put complete trust in the person guiding me. The road was scary, but thankfully, this was before electric cars, so at least I could hear them coming.
The hardest part was not seeing my children’s faces. I could feel and stroke their faces, but it hurt not being able to see their emotions and expressions.
During that time, my other senses heightened significantly. My sense of smell became much more acute, and despite already having good hearing, it seemed to improve even more. I could probably hear a pin drop in the garden.
I learned so much during that period, and I’m incredibly grateful that my sight returned. Although my eyes didn’t fully recover and I face ongoing challenges, none of them hinder my life too much. I will never take sight for granted again.
It is evident that the world is not fully equipped for people who are blind. While some changes have been made, there is still much more to be done.
