Him, my guy, is Socrates. No, no, not the greatest philosopher of all time (although, wouldn’t that be a riot!). My guy is Socrates, a non-Greek who isn’t into philosophy (the latter of which is a travesty...). We met briefly in 2010 through a mutual friend, but he didn’t leave a good first impression. Instead, we reconnected a second time - five months later - at that same mutual friend’s going away party.
That night we ended up sharing a cab and exchanged phone numbers. I felt compelled to let him know what my first impression was of him and texted an unfiltered, “You’re hot, but an a**hole”. He responded with a classy, “You’re hot too, but not an a**hole”. I knew then he was a keeper.
We spent the next several months hanging out together at occasional gatherings until suddenly, it became more consistent. From there, our love grew and grew and continued to grow until the balloon that kept filling up with water formed into a rock, so it could not burst.
And while this rock-solid partnership continued to take shape, a shocking test to our relationship came our way two years into it. The year was 2012 and it was a trying year as I was diagnosed with Usher syndrome, the most common genetic cause of combined deafness and blindness.
My hearing loss wasn’t a surprise to us since I had already been wearing hearing aids since the age of 4. The discovery of having progressive vision loss was a discovery neither one of us anticipated.
While at the doctor’s office I was told I would be blind in 10-12 years, that I should start training with a mobility cane ASAP, and that I should start taking a high dose of Vitamin A – enough to be toxic for my liver – and through it all, Socrates kept his head up like the non-philosophical champ he is.
My head on the other hand was down. Down like a duck searching for fish below the water, but never coming back up with food for its belly.
For the first time in my life I saw myself as disabled and unable to live life independently. The sheer shock of the diagnosis was debilitating enough that the precautionary measures made by the doctor fueled the fear of navigating life blindly. I was imagining how much my life would be unlivable. How losing my vision at a rate to-be-determined would be soul sucking.
About four days after my diagnosis I gave Socrates an “out.”
Very casually, while sobbing and wheezing, as I tried to breathe and cry at the same time I said, “Socrates, if you feel that this diagnosis is too much of a burden for you, I’m giving you a chance to walk away with no strings attached. I will completely understand if you decide to do that.”
His response was, “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with ME.”
It’s been six years since we had that conversation and while we have our ups and downs, there have been more perfect moments of enjoying each other than I care to admit.
About a month ago someone said to my fiancé, “Sophia is so lucky to have you. You are an incredible person for staying with her even through her diagnosis.”
My first thought when I heard that was, I used to believe that too. Then I thought, what!? After years of struggling with my diagnosis and relearning to love myself exactly as I am, I realized that the truth is we are so lucky to have each other. All the lovefest and sappiness aside, it’s true. WE are lucky to have EACH other.
Going blind is just a little speed bump on our road trip to our shared life together. It is not the definition of our relationship, but merely an element of it. Besides, Socrates doesn’t live up to his name as a philosopher and yet I chose to stay with him regardless.
We each come with baggage and we each come with personality. And yet, our union, our friendship, our love for one another, trumps all the small stuff like losing your vision.
My story doesn't have a neat ending or a twist, reassuring the reader with a fairy tale conclusion that I am no longer going blind. Instead, going blind was exactly what I needed to realize that I am still perfect and found my perfect guy who is not anything less than my soulmate.
