MAX MONROE gazed at the cherry blossoms outside the doctorâs office on Park Avenue, the fully opened buds as soft and round as pink puffballs. He blinked; were the blossoms blurring together into one indiscernible rosy mass, or was he imagining it? Fearing it?
He turned back to the doctor who was smiling at him with far too much compassion and steepled his fingers under his chin. When he spoke his voice was bland, deliberately so. âSo what are we looking at? A year?â He swallowed. âSix months?â
âItâs difficult to say.â Dr Ayers glanced down at the clipboard that chronicled Maxâs history of sight loss in a few clinical sentences. âStargardtâs disease is not a predictable process. As you know, many are diagnosed in childhood, yet yours was not detected until recently.â He gave a tiny, apologetic shrug. âYou could have months of blurred vision, loss of central vision, sudden blackoutsâ¦â He paused, tellingly.
âOr?â Max asked, the single word opening up a well of unwelcome possibility.
âOr it could be faster than that. You might have nearly complete loss of sight within a few weeks.â
âWeeks.â Max repeated the word with cold detachment, turning to gaze once more at the blowsy blossoms, now at the height of their glory. Perhaps he wouldnât see them fall, wouldnât witness the silky pink petals turn brown and wrinkled, curling up at the corners before they fluttered slowly, disconsolately to the ground.
Weeks.
âMaxââ
Max held up a hand to stop the doctorâs words of sympathy. He didnât want to hear how sorry the man was, how Max didnât deserve this. Polite but pointless offerings. âPlease,â he said quietly, his throat suddenlyâstupidlyâtight.
Dr Ayers shook his head, his words lapsing into a sigh. âYour case is unique, as the head trauma from your accident might have exacerbated or even accelerated the conditions of the disease. Many people with this disease can live with a managed conditionââ
âWhile others are legally blind and have nearly complete loss,â Max finished dispassionately. Heâd done his research, back when the first flickers of darkness rippled across his vision, as if the world had gone wavy. Back when heâd been able to read, watch, see. Just three weeks ago, yet a separate lifetime.
The doctor sighed again, then reached for a brochure. âLiving with sight loss is challengingââ
Max gave a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter. Challenging? He could do challenging. He thrived on challenges. Sight loss was not a challenge. It was a devastation. Darkness, utter darkness, as heâd felt once before, when the fear had consumed him, when heâd heard their criesâHe bit off that train of thought, refused to lose himself in the memories. It would be all too easy, and then he would never find his way back.
âI could refer you to some groups that help you to become accustomedââ