What Eye Disease Has Taught Me About Resilience

When I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes more than 40 years ago, I feared many things.

But the biggest one was losing my eyesight.

Now, after decades of living with diabetes, that fear has become part of my daily life as I navigate retinopathy, diabetic macular edema, and glaucoma.

Like many others, I lived for years without needing any treatment beyond blood sugar management.

But I always knew complications could arise.

As I learned more, I discovered that more than half of people with diabetes will eventually develop some form of diabetes-related eye disease, such as retinopathy or macular edema.

That statistic wasn’t just abstract to me anymore.

It was becoming personal.

In 2019, I learned my mild retinopathy had progressed.

I would need laser treatments.

My heart raced, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what it might mean.

I had heard horror stories about needles in the eye and imagined a painful, overwhelming experience.

But in truth, that first laser treatment wasn’t scary or painful.

It was straightforward, even routine.

From that point forward, I learned to live with eye care as a consistent part of my health journey.

Sixteen laser procedures and six eye injections later, I’ve realized that these treatments, while daunting, are highly effective in preserving vision.

Treatments like anti-VEGF injections, such as Avastin, help reduce swelling and blood vessel leakage in the retina—even though Avastin was originally approved as a cancer drug.

Used off-label, it has been life-changing for many patients with diabetic eye complications.

I was also diagnosed with glaucoma in 2024, which now requires daily eye drops to control pressure and protect my vision.

It’s a reminder that eye health is constantly evolving, especially for those of us with chronic conditions.

Advances in technology, like angiography dye testing and optical coherence tomography (OCT), have allowed my doctors to track even the subtlest changes and intervene early.

Of course, it’s not just physical.

The fear of complications has a deep psychological impact.

The constant worry about what might happen next can shape how we manage our care, or how we avoid it.

For me, “fear of complications” is just as real as the often-discussed “fear of hypoglycemia.”

It weighs on every decision, every doctor’s appointment, and every time I notice a new floater in my eye.

But I’ve learned that fear doesn’t have to define the journey.

Education, proactive care, and a support system have helped me feel more in control.

The first injection terrified me, but by the sixth, I felt calm.

Knowing that other people had been through it—and come out okay—mattered more than I realized.

My journey isn’t over, and my vision still isn’t perfect.

But I’ve learned that staying informed and being persistent about care can make all the difference.

Diabetes doesn’t write our story for us.