A few years ago, right after the world shut down during the pandemic, my life changed in a way I could never
have expected.
I was working at a small convenience store, managing a headache that wouldn’t go away. I took some
tablets, brushed it off, and kept pushing through the day. But later that afternoon, I noticed something
terrifying – I had completely lost the sight in one of my eyes.
I thought maybe something had gotten in it. “I’ll check when I get home,” I told myself. But when I got home
and looked, there was nothing there. Maybe it’s just the headache, I hoped. Maybe it’ll pass by morning.
It didn’t.
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Why I Started Making Soaps: A Journey of Healing, Hope, and
Purpose
By the next day, it had gotten worse. I could barely see – only the faint outlines of objects. That’s when the
fear set in. I called the doctor, explained what was happening, and they referred me straight to the eye
hospital. After several tests and no answers, I was sent for an MRI and more tests – bloodwork, spinal fluid.
The weeks blurred together with uncertainty and fear.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). The doctors explained it gently but bluntly: as I age,
I would likely lose parts of my vision, hearing, mobility – depending on which nerves the disease affected.
There was no cure. Only management.
But something inside me refused to fully accept it.
By the time I received the diagnosis, my eyesight had already recovered 70% – without treatment. The
doctors were surprised. They called it rare. A small miracle.
