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Since being diagnosed with glaucoma 12 years ago, I've been so used to making twice-a-year advance appointments with my current doctor. Yesterday was my first appointment for this year, and technically the second one during the challenging time of a pandemic.

Compared to the neurological condition that I acquired some 25 years ago, glaucoma is an ailment that is not visible from the outside. But routine consults with a specialist is a must since its signs and symptoms can lead to irreversible repercussions if neglected. I can't frankly say my being a wide-reader was put to good use on this particular scenario, because when I first heard the diagnosis when I was 24, I won't hide the truth that it scared the shit out of me. My mom knew how loud and hard I cried because I already knew what kind of "inevitable result" is in store for me because of this disease. 

At first, there was denial since the disease mostly affects the geriatric population (as in those above the age of 60!) and I was way far from hitting that age. And as if that was enough, I was told all the other ugly truths: the disease cannot be cured, it can only be managed and controlled to delay the prognosis and try to prevent the inevitable effect from happening this early. Hearing the fact that the disease is manageable allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief, at least. But the next words from my doctor were enough to burst my relieved bubble in an instant:

"That would mean you will need to be on lifetime maintenance medication."

And so the whole shitty scenario began. Aside from an illness that seemed to have arrived at a very unreasonable time, I was also battling some personal and career-related issues. But I was definite at one thing: to save whatever is left of one of my five senses for as long as I could. 

After being with three different doctors and being prescribed three different medications, I crossed paths with my current doctor in 2013. I guess deciding to find another doctor was one of the wisest decisions I made that year. During my first consultation with Dr. Norman Aquino seven years ago, he was able to shed some light on my condition, and was able to clearly explain the disease that I am battling. From its causes, as well as the treatment available, and how my condition can be managed. He further assured me that with proper management and medication, I need not cry that hard like the first time out of fear from the ailment's inevitable effect -- that one of my five senses will cease to exist.

"As long as you are taking your medication regularly, malabong mangyari ang kinakatakot mo." were his exact words. And during yesterday's appointment, Dr. Aquino explained that these measures that we are doing are to make sure that the disease is managed and controlled in a way that it will be far from progressing rapidly. He further told me, "36 ka pa lang. You still have a life ahead of you. I want you to have that quality of life well until your 80's."

I know not all doctors can be like that. And to encounter a specialist like him somehow put a few of my worries to rest. But there was another question that I've always wondered about. Given that the disease will be something that I have to live with for a lifetime, I want to know if it will affect my future plans. You see, I still have a lot of items left unticked on my bucket list. It was a question I asked my previous doctor five years ago to which I received an expectedly heart-crushing reply. The night before my appointment, the said question got rehashed in my head. But it also got me thinking, "We tend to get a second (even third) opinion from doctors about diseases, right?" Next to wanting some peace of mind, I thought I guess it won't hurt if I ask my doctor for his two cents worth whether my condition (and our current approach to the situation) can have unfavorable effects on my other plans. 

Despite mustering the courage, I was already expecting a "part two" of the previous scenario. But I want to say that yesterday's appointment is among those that's one for the books. Next to hearing a favorable response, Dr. Aquino also advised me of measures that I will possibly need to do should I decide to pursue those items on my list. Unlike the previous scene when I was just told "no, that is not possible" and was not even provided with further explanations as to why -- or if there can be options that can somehow make things a bit attainable.

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I was going through my old journal from 2009 tonight and chanced upon a note I have written with the same date as today.

It was around this month that year when I was diagnosed with glaucoma and had been undergoing treatment since. When I first found out, I was both in shock an disbelief. I have known that ailment to be something "only adults get". When the diagnosis came out, I was just 24. It was like going through a triple whammy of some sorts that year; I've lost a five-year relationship, I was in between jobs and the treatment, though available, was somewhat costly and it will be a lifetime thing.

Added to it was the feeling of being scared and concerned of getting blind at a young age. Yes, even without the doctor telling me then, I knew it's going to be the worst case. It made me cry for some time. I have a lot of things left unaccomplished and plans I wanted to do. If I would be blind, I knew that's going to be the (possible) end.

But when I look at it now, Mama was right. God is still good. He has blessed me with a job that not only allowed me to help my family, but it sufficed my treatment, thus it lessened the burden of having someone else to shoulder it. And my doctor told me not too fear. He assured me that I will not be blind for as long as I adhere to my medication.

Since that day, it has always been my prayer that God would not allow my fear to happen. I have been hoping and praying that God would keep my eyesight fine and working well enough so that I can enjoy my long-awaited trip to Disneyland, clear enough for me to see how happy everyone will be and how dashing my future husband is going to be on our wedding (who, knows, God might just grant that too). But more importantly, I still want to be there well enough to raise my future kids and see them to be the person they're supposed to become.

And in every morning that I am able to see light when I wake up, I continue to be thankful, because it means I am well. I am still okay and God's fulfilling His promise.