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    It may sound strange, but I think I am fortunate to have been blind since birth rather than losing my sight later in life.  I never knew and was never told what a blind boy was supposed to not see and not do; rather, I only knew what a boy was supposed to do.  My older brother played sports; I played sports.  My older brother climbed trees; I climbed trees.  I never realized what I was not supposed to be able to do, and I was certainly never told.

    From the time I was little my parents could tell something was wrong with my vision, but no doctor I had seen could tell what the problem was.  There was even one doctor who thought it was a cry for attention and yelled at me when I couldn't read the eye chart.  Being misdiagnosed,  I can recall going to kindergarten in my bifocals, which did not help my vision or my self-confidence. Strangely enough, they were often left in my cubby, but my teacher would then remind me to go and get them.  I remained misdiagnosed until my family moved to Pennsylvania for my father to attend seminary.  

    We moved to Pennsylvania when I was seven, where I was taken to another specialist who quickly diagnosed me with optic nerve atrophy.  Although this condition was untreatable, it was an answer... an explanation.  While in Philadelphia I was blessed to have some of the best specialists working on my case; I also believe that they were some of the kindest and most well intentioned professionals.  In fact, they enabled and motivated my mother to go on and get her master's degree in the field of low vision, and my sister followed suit by getting her bachelor's degree in this field as well. These days changed our lives and opened our eyes forever.

    I think most parents will agree that raising children can be excruciatingly humbling.  This is probably no more evident than a blind parent trying to raise sighted children.  When Sam was in the Cub Scouts we attended the annual campout.  I learned a lot about Sam through this experience.  While other boys were playing in the woods near the clearing where our tents were, Sam would happily stay close by my side so I wouldn't lose sight of him.  In addition, when I needed to use the restroom I would need to ask him to help me find my way, and when the sun started to set I would need to keep a hand on him so I would not get lost or trip.  Even with these drawbacks, Sam and I had a great time on our camping trip.  My life has been filled with stories of depending on my children to be my eyes.  From notable times like this to everyday occurrences like walking past aisles in a grocery store asking my 3- or 4-year old if they see Mommy. When someone passes the driveway and shouts "Hi Mr. Kitchen", I need to ask one of the kids to whom I need to respond. While we watch sports on T.V. the children need to tell me the score. When I walk into a room I need to ask who is currently in the room. While Christmas shopping for Lori, Alana and I leave Lori at the entrance to a store and Alana reads signs to locate the department or aisle I am looking for. After we find the section she then proceeds to read the items and the prices until we locate the perfect gift. As a blind father I have had to learn to put aside pride and to reach out for help from my children, including my three year olds.

    If, Lord willing, I am able to get stem cell therapy and it is a success I look forward to many things. There is, of course, the grandiose, like driving a car and standing at the top of a lighthouse with panoramic views, but there are also smaller, more common blessings to be had. My father, my brothers, and I would frequently go to Phillies games together when I was growing up, and I wish this would be an experience I could have with my boys. We also used to go on camping trips on Memorial Day weekend--just the boys-- and how I long for that.

I would like to go to a restaurant with Lori and be able to read my own options.

I would like to look at the bill for dinner without appearing as though I am inspecting it.

I would like to be able to walk into a coffee shop and see the specials and be able to decide if I want to try something new.

I would like to shave and not need to have Lori do an inspection afterwards.

I would like to decide if the lawn needs to be mowed prior to it looking like a jungle.

I would like to mow the yard without shredding two tennis balls and a shoe.

I would like to grill without the fear of exposing people to undercooked burgers.

I would like to say goodnight to the children without stomping on a misplaced toy.

I would like to check the car's oil and not have Lori do it.

I would like to see someone in church and know whether I need to introduce myself or not.

I would like to have a late night craving and be able to run out and pick it up myself.

I would like to know who Lori is waving at without having to ask her.

But mostly I would like to be able to recognize my children.

Adam Kitchen

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