Losing Sight, Gaining Vision

When the Light Fades: A Journey Through Pain, Faith and Perspective

I’ve always believed that every obstacle comes with a purpose. That every moment of darkness carries a lesson, if we’re patient enough and humble enough to look for it, but sometimes, life gives us a test that challenges even our strongest beliefs.

A Simple Surgery That Became So Much More

Not long ago, I went in for what was supposed to be two simple eye surgeries - one on the Wednesday for my right eye and another on the Thursday for my left. Nothing major, just a short recovery and back to life as usual - or so we thought.

There were several of us scheduled those same days. By Friday, everyone else could see clearly again. They were talking about how bright the world looked and how sharp the colours were. It was supposed to be a routine recovery, but for me, it wasn’t.

Due to my autoimmune condition, healing didn’t follow the textbook path - my body had other plans. What should have been a week of recovery stretched into several long, painful weeks. My vision remained blurry and for a few days, I was half-blind in my left eye. My veins were injured, leaving both eyes bloodshot and aching for more than two weeks.

Simple things - like using my cellphone, reading, writing my blog posts or recording my podcasts - were suddenly impossible. My world went quiet, dim and frustratingly still.

Needing Help for the Basics

For that first week and a half, I couldn’t do anything on my own. My friend had to move in with me just to help keep my life afloat - cooking, cleaning, helping me move around the house, even feeding my four-legged kids. I couldn’t see well enough to perform the most basic tasks. It was humbling… and honestly, heartbreaking. You never really understand the weight of independence until it’s taken away.

Even now, weeks later, I still can’t read properly, but I was determined to do something - anything - to feel like myself again. So I connected my TV to my laptop and enlarged the font to its biggest size. That’s how I’m writing again after more than two weeks of being unable to work.

I still can’t record my podcasts or conduct any coaching sessions. The blurriness causes motion sickness and watching anything on a screen makes me nauseous. I am not allowed to exercise, bend forward or pick up anything heavy for at least another 4 weeks. It’s frustrating, suffocating at times, but even in this limitation, I see the world a little clearer now.

The Day Everything Went Wrong

The surgery on my right eye went smoothly, but the next day, when it was time for the left eye, things changed.

This time, the anesthesia didn’t work the way it should have. I felt everything - every movement, every cut and every moment of discomfort. The pain was unbearable and I remember screaming. They had to stop midway to give me more anesthesia before continuing, but by then, I was already shaken to my core. I was physically hurting and emotionally traumatized.

It’s strange how quickly fear can set in when you feel helpless. I remember lying there, wondering if I’d ever see properly again and in that moment, I realized how much we take our senses - and our independence - for granted.

As I laid there under the thick operating blanket, completely covered except for the small opening around my eye, I remember hearing the song “Fierce” by Jesus Culture playing softly in the background. The lyrics washed over me like a whisper of comfort in the middle of the chaos. Quietly, almost in a voice only God could hear, I began to sing along beneath my breath. The words became my prayer, my anchor and as the surgeon worked, I found myself praying the Our Father, asking for peace, strength and the will to keep hope alive.

In that sterile, cold room, surrounded by bright lights and uncertainty, faith became my anesthesia - the one thing that kept me still, calm and connected to something far greater than fear.

Losing Sight, Gaining Vision

For years, I used to say that if I had to lose one of my five senses, I would choose my sight. I’d tell people, “I’d rather not see the evil in the world,” but when I actually lost my eyesight, even temporarily, I learned just how precious vision truly is. Not just physical sight, but the ability to see the beauty in ordinary things, to appreciate the world in all its colour, chaos and light.

Yet, in my darkness, something unexpected happened: my other senses awakened. My hearing became sharper. Music sounded richer, deeper. The chirping of birds in the morning felt like a gift. The tone of voices around me carried more meaning. It was as if, when one door closed, another sense opened wider.

The Lesson Hidden in the Waiting

Recovery is slow - painfully slow. Some days I wake up hopeful and other days I feel defeated. I can’t rush the process, no matter how badly I want to, but as I sit in this stillness, unable to work or distract myself, I begin to reflect.

Maybe this was what I needed - not the surgery itself, but the pause. Maybe God is asking me to slow down long enough to see what I’d been missing: the beauty of patience, the power of surrender and the gift of perspective.

I often tell my life coaching clients: every obstacle takes time to overcome, but if God brings you to it, He will get you through it. This experience reminds me that those aren’t just comforting words - they’re truth.

Healing isn’t always instant. Sometimes it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s scary, but even in the hardest seasons, God’s hand is steady, even when ours are trembling.

Seeing Differently

My eyesight is slowly returning now. The world still looks blurry, but my vision - the way I see life, faith and gratitude - has never been clearer.

If you’re facing your own season of darkness right now, please remember this: the light will return. It might not happen as fast as you want it to and it might not look the way you expect it to, but it will come and when it does, you’ll see not just with your eyes, but with your heart.

You’ll notice things you overlooked before - the people who care, the strength you didn’t know you had and the beauty hidden in the waiting.

So trust the process, rest in faith and remember:
If God brings you to it, He will get you through it and when the light returns, you’ll see the world with a new kind of clarity.

With you on the journey,
– Storm Reagan
Life Coach | Lived Experience Guide