Unlike the others, though, this call had a purpose: She wanted to press me again about the experimental procedure my new doctor mentioned. The one that might restore partial vision.
I said no. Same answer I gave three months ago. Same answer I gave six months before that.
She didn’t push. That’s new, too—Georgia Hunter learning when to let things lie. She just said, “Okay, baby. I trust you,” and moved on to talking about how funny the seals at the beach are.
I’ve been struggling to articulate why I’m refusing the procedure, even to myself. It’s not that I don’t want to see my daughter’s face. God knows I’ve traced every curve of it with my fingertips. It’s that I’ve spent the last year building a life that doesn’t require sight. And somewhere along the way, I discovered something unexp
