Time for a Break!

After Tanner's rotten neuro-ophth refused to do 15 minutes of paperwork for him to get the genetic testing, we kicked them to the curb. After some thought, we asked Tanner's primary to do the testing for us, and of course he agreed. God Bless Dr. Rosales and Lisa.

The testing would take eight to ten weeks. We had nothing but time, so where better to spend it than in the beautiful Florida Keys! Sure, we have money problems, but we got a great deal on a hotel, and I figured that if Tanner were going completely blind, I wanted him to have memories.

The best part about the Keys is Bahia Honda, a state park with sugary sandy beaches, and warm, gentle surf that beckons you to spend the day. We found a live conch, but of course had to put it back because they are protected.

It was when we were in the Keys that I realized how much Tanner's vision had failed. He couldn't read menus, see his food, or even read his text messages. He could reply to the texts, because he had his keyboard memorized, but it was just very sad watching him. It was sad for me, because I saw the death of all the hopes and dreams I had for my son - Tanner wanted to join the service or be a police officer, or join the FBI. I didn't have the heart to tell him how difficult it was going to be to do any of those things.

Tanner was also deprived of his greatest joy, playing sports. His wrestling coach would not allow him to even practice with the team, lest something jiggle whatever was making him go blind. At this point, we still did not have a diagnosis. Tanner told me that he did not want me mentioning his blindness during our trip to the Keys - I was so bad; every day, I would put Tanner through my own informal "tests." Can you see this? Can you read that? I asked him several times a day, trying to figure out what he could see. Bless Tanner, he never lost his patience with me.

I did cry on the Fourth of July. We had made arrangements to be at a big beachside hotel to view the fireworks. Our family took position on the pier, where the show was spectacular. You could almost reach out and touch the fiery display. Everybody clapped at the end, out of sheer joy for the lights, the noise, the smell of gunpowder.

Why are they clapping for fireworks? I asked myself. Don't they know my son is going blind? An irrational, angry thought, but I couldn't help myself.