I am not surprised that things are pretty much the same in my life. I didn’t expect anything more than what I have now. I worked very hard to surround myself with genuine people and to create a normal life for myself. I am still the same person. It just means that physically， perhaps， I can share more and put the two together： the feelings I had， with sight.
The same doctor who told me I would never see again told me I had regained 80 percent of the vision in my left eye. To be able to look him in the eye and tell him I could see again—honestly， that felt pretty damn good. He ran all the tests and made me read the eye chart， but he has no explanation. He said to himself， and still says， that once the optic nerve is damaged， it cannot regenerate .
I don’t think the knock on the head had anything to do with it. If others want to believe that is how it happened， that is fine. But I consider this a miracle. There is no other way to describe it. Some things just cannot be explained. Of course， some people are skeptical. For me， it is precious. I try not to think about the possibility of going blind again. But my recovery would be no less a miracle even if I lost my sight tomorrow.
11歲那年，我被診斷患有腦瘤。我進行了切除手術，但腫瘤的大小和位置卻導致我的視覺神經萎縮。3年後，我還能看見一點點東西，但眼科醫生說我最終會失明。快過完14歲時，醫生斷言我已經完全失明，並且沒有辦法治療。當時，我患上腦瘤後，存活的機率隻有5%，結果我活了下來，但對於即將失明的現實，我卻無能為力。我努力表現得一切正常，但當它真正成為現實時，我卻絕望了。
5歲那年，父親離開了我們，這簡直令我無法承受。正因為如此，再加上處於失明最痛苦的時期，我最大的恐懼是沒有人再愛我，我永遠都不能結婚，不能有自己的孩子和一個完整的生活。我害怕孤獨。我想，這些就是我當時對失明的理解。