A Tumor, Going Blind, and Learning to Heal Myself

Something that surprises most people about me is that I'm blind in my left eye. And it was one of the scariest things that ever happened to me. Sometimes I still feel some PTSD from the procedures. And sometimes I'm reminded how grateful I am for the whole experience. So, how did a 28-year-old lose vision in her left eye, and what can we learn from harrowing experiences? Let's start from the beginning.

I was eating brunch with my friends one Sunday morning when I felt like there was a bright spot in my eye. I kept asking other people if they were having vision problems, but of course they weren't. I thought it would go away, but 2 days later it was just getting worse. I was getting worried, so I left work and went to an optometrist. She immediately forwarded me to a retina specialist, telling me that I had a detached retina, but that it was strange because I didn't have any physical trauma. I asked her how that could be and she said she couldn't know but was worried about a tumor.

Everything in my life changed after she said that word. Even just thinking about it now makes me tear up a little. I was dating two people at the time, and called my long-term partner, Dave. I asked if he could leave work and come to the retina specialist with me. This doctor had made room in his schedule to see me that day because of how serious a detached retina is. Dave met me there, and I was already a mess. Not knowing is one of the hardest situations to be in. I was scared.

He told me I did indeed have a detached retina, and he tried one treatment, which was a steroid shot directly into my eye. I went back a week later and no change. He basically told me there was only one explanation for this, a tumor on my retina. So, he forwarded me to a retinal tumor specialist. Again, my world collapsed.

Lucky for me, I live near Seattle, and Seattle has all the specialists you can imagine. I had to wait a couple weeks to get the appointment, and in that time, everything was a mess. The bright area of my eye had turned dark, and the brightness was expanding. The spot was in the lower left areas of my eye at this time. My Mom flew out from Delaware to be with me for the appointment.

When I walked into the doctor's office I was the youngest person there by 30 years. 28 years old. And everyone else there was at least 60 or 70. I was trying to keep it together. They had a special machine that took pictures of my retina, and the doctor came in to tell us what he saw. Even he was surprised how young I was.

He told me that the reason my retina was detached was because a small tumor had grown behind my retina, and it had leaked fluid as it grew, which is what detached the retina. He said these kinds of little growths are actually quite common, but the fluid was uncommon and concerning. He told me the only thing we could do is wait 6 months and see if it grows. If it grew he would label it a malignant tumor.

To be honest, I'm crying now just writing this because of the memory of that appointment. I didn't know what to do with this information. I was well supported, had good insurance, but didn't know how to just wait and watch as the bright spot spread. Those 6 months were one of the most difficult in my life.

On top of this news, my friend Jacque also killed herself. And my girlfriend's husband divorced her, which meant she moved into my house with her dog. My life completely turned upside down. I felt like a zombie, just moving through the motions of life. Work days blurring into weekends of worry, trying to forget by drinking. But the spot in my vision was a constant reminder. I couldn't even go a second into my day without opening my eyes and seeing it.

The spot was growing bigger and bigger. Moving very slowly towards the center of my vision. You see, your vision in inverted in your retina, and your brain inverts it again, so you see everything where up is up and down is down. So, even though the fluid is following gravity downwards, it's moving up towards the center of my vision since it's inverted.

But they always say, no matter what happens, time continues to move. So, even though I was struggling the 6 months went by. My Mom flew out again to come to this appointment with me. My two partners were there as well. They took me to the fancy retina photo machine, and then we waited in the office. The doctor came in and told me the tumor had grown, he was labeling it a malignant tumor.

He told me that the tumor was basically touching the optic nerve, which made everything more complicated. Surgery would likely blind me. Radiation would definitely blind me. There was an experimental treatment he was willing to try that had a low chance of success but wouldn't blind me. But other than that, there was nothing we could do.

This type of cancer had about a 50% chance of spreading beyond the eye and infecting other parts of me with the cancer, likely my brain. The 30-year survival rate of this kind of cancer was 50%. I agreed to the experimental treatment, and this is where a lot of the PTSD came from.

This treatment was a shot directly into my eye, every 30 days for 6 months. I was fully awake for the shot. It started with a teeny tiny needle that numbed the eye, then a rather large needle that delivered the medicine. I had to just look to the right and hold my vision there while he quickly injected the shot. If I moved, I risked complications and blindness. It was a lot of pressure, repeated every 30 days.

I needed someone to drive me home from each of those appointments, and my partners took turns, with my Mom joining for one as well. Dave did the best as he isn't very squeamish, but even he was a little uncomfortable. My Mom was the worst, she had to turn away completely when they gave me the shot. Haha. I don't blame her. My whole life, I haven't been squeamish at all, except when it came to eye things. My literal worst fear was something puncturing my eye. And here I was living it every 30 days.

I still laugh at the universe about this one. My single biggest fear, and it came true.

After 6 months of this, and waking up sweating in the middle of the night thinking about it, I finally went in for the follow up. Fully supported again by my support team, we found out that after all that it wasn't a success, and the tumor had grown again. And not only that but now the spot was starting to take over the center of my vision.

I remember the day it happened. Each day I closed my right eye to check on the progress of the spot. And it had been creeping so close for a while. The bright spot always led to distortion in the vision next, then after the distortion came the dark spot. The distortion was especially disorienting in the center of my vision. I remember thinking that was the last day I would ever have clear vision in the left eye.

It took 4 years to completely lose the vision in most of my left eye. Today, 8 years later, I still have no clear vision in the center of my left eye. I can see colors and shapes around the peripheral of the left eye, but with my right eye closed I wouldn't be able to make out the faces of even my closest loved ones.

But something miraculous happens in the brain when your vision fails. Because I had clear 20/20 vision my entire life my brain knew how to compensate. With my eyes open if I'm looking generally forward, my brain fills in the vision. With both eyes open I can see almost perfectly. When I look to my left I notice it the most. Wherever my right eye can't see fully I get this foggy look in my eye. It's not exactly a black spot, it's more just dark and foggy, completely blurry there.

And then another miracle happened. I was the manager of a paint store back then, and went to a chamber of commerce meeting. And a doctor was there talking about traditional chinese medicine. I let him read the veins on my wrist and he named all the issues my body normally has, then asked what was wrong with vision. I told him I had been diagnosed with a malignant tumor, and there was nothing else that could be done. He said well, nothing else Western medicine could do. He told me there was absolutely something TCM could do.

I started seeing him immediately and began a wildly strict diet designed to reduce inflammation, increase blood nutrients, and increase blood flow. The body's natural healing system is the blood and oxygen. So, getting nutrient rich blood and oxygen flowing to all parts of the body is how, in TCM, you naturally treat illnesses and tumors. I drank a concoction of herbs 30 minutes before all my meals, and did some acupuncture as well.

The diet was the strictest I had ever eaten in my whole life. No sugar, no processed carbs, no grains, no fruit, no alcohol, and no dairy. I was vegan at the time as well, which was even more complicated. But having this be the path to kill a tumor was all the motivation I needed! I did this for 6 months, only straying once by eating two chocolates on my anniversary. I lost 35 pounds in that time, and went back to the Western doctor to measure the tumor.

I told the Western doctor what I had done, and he was skeptical. But the retina photo didn't lie. The tumor had shrunk! The Western doctor said he must have made a mistake and that the tumor was never malignant in the first place, because there's no way that diet and herbs could have made it shrink... ok! I guess you'll never know, but I know that the traditional Chinese medicine made a difference.

Unfortunately, the detached retina is a different story. It's scar tissue, so even though there isn't more fluid leaking, the TCM can't regenerate scar tissue. It seems that once the vision is gone, it's not coming back. I did try Sananga, a tincture from the Amazon jungle, and recovered some of the peripheral vision, but I tried a second round of it and didn't see any more progress.

I've accepted that the vision in my left eye is gone. But I also got a vision one day in a Shamanic vision journey, that one day I'll be able to see with my third eye as well as I did with my regular vision. So, still holding out for that!

What I learned from this journey is that I am resilient, I am supported, I am loved, I am powerful. I can do anything I set my mind to, and I can face even my biggest fears. This isn't a sad story, but a story of reclamation. Reclaiming my power beyond my vision, reclaiming my health, reclaiming my path. Because after you lose something as big as your vision, it kind of reshapes how you look at your life.

Now, my life is completely different from that paint store manager just trying to hang on to something. I faced rupture after rupture in those 6 months of waiting. I faced challenges that not many 28-year-olds face. And I live to tell the tale of resiliency. I live to share this story so that you can be reminded of your own power and ability to heal yourself. I expanded how I viewed our medical system, and how I viewed the body's ability to heal.

And I am so grateful for my right eye, and my brain for filling in so much of my vision. I still get caught off guard sometimes when I forget I can't see that far to my left. I still sometimes close my right eye and see how bad my vision is in my left to remember that truth. But then I open my right eye again to celebrate what I still have.

They say nothing reminds you of how grateful you are until you lose something. Well, this entire process has reminded me of the most amazing things I'm grateful for. I face this life very different after having gone through this difficult experience and lived to tell the tale. I'm ready for whatever is next that life chooses to throw at me.

INSPIRED ACTION: I would love to hear a tale from you about how you've transformed through a harrowing experience. I know they're tough to tell sometimes, but it's pretty cathartic to tell it, too. Comment yours.