“Babe, I finally figured out how to do it,” he said one evening, his voice shaking. “Our dream is going to come true. You’ll be able to see. Trust me!”
I froze at our kitchen table, my heartbeat thundering.“Don’t play with me,” I said quietly.
“I’d never do that,”
he replied.
He knelt before me and clasped my hands.
“I’ve been developing a procedure that could reconnect damaged pathways using a regenerative graft. It’s risky, but your scans show you’re a viable candidate.”
I struggled to absorb his explanation.
“And you would perform it?”
“Yes. I would stake everything on this.”
All those late nights had been dedicated to developing a treatment for my blindness.
The possibility overwhelmed me.
What if the operation failed? What if I remained blind? Or what if regaining my sight changed the life I’d learned to navigate without it?
