My husband and I were eating dinner last night and all of a sudden, I felt tears coming on. As I sat there crying and trying to stop, I apologized to my poor spouse and he asked what was wrong. I thought about it and realized I didn’t know, and immediately began to triage any emotion I could grab on to.
I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t longing for my mom more than the constant ache in my heart. I did, however, keep returning to the happenings of the morning, trying to find a way to my appointment. As soon as I recognized that this was the prevailing thought, I said to my husband, who was just trying to enjoy his meal after grilling chicken in the rain, “It is inconceivable that this is my life. But how can it be inconceivable when this has been my life for three plus years? I am living this life so how can I still be in disbelief over it?”
I cried a little more and then we finished our dinner. There was, of course, no answer for these questions but that didn’t stop me from still thinking about it 20 hours later. I am aware, every day, every hour, every minute, that I am severely visually challenged. And yet, it still can shock me that I now must live my life without my full sight. My repeating question during this journey hasn’t been Why me? but How did I get here?
We all play the hand we are dealt but sometimes I “look” at the cards and simply cannot believe the fact that they are mine. Most of the time I play them with no emotion but sometimes with a profound sense of incredulity. Forget poker, rummy, pinochle and blackjack, this game is called Inconceivable.
