It’s Story Time Nine years ago, I went completely blind in a matter of days. It started with a small spot in the center of my eye, and before I knew it, my entire vision was swallowed by a cloudy darkness. By the third day, I saw an ophthalmologist—well, more like he saw me—and he confirmed what I already knew: I was blind. But then he hit me with something unexpected. “The problem isn’t your eye,” he said. “You need to see a medical doctor.” I didn’t know how to feel. Confused? Terrified? Numb? All I knew was that I needed answers, so I booked an appointment for the next day. Did I mention the headaches? Paired with the blindness, they were excruciating. It felt like my skull was being squeezed in a vice, and I couldn’t shake the thought that I might not wake up the next morning. When I finally saw the doctor, her words were even worse than I’d imagined. “You need testing,” she said. “We’ll have to schedule an appointment, and the results will take about three weeks.” Three weeks?!? I didn’t have three weeks. I couldn’t just sit around waiting—I needed to see, to live! I had a one-year-old at home who depended on me. But the doctors? They didn’t seem to share my urgency. My health, my vision, my life—none of it felt like a priority to them. Eventually, three weeks later, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. But here’s the real game-changer: it wasn’t the diagnosis that changed my life. It was what I did during those three weeks that made all the difference. I knew if I wanted to live, I had to take matters into my own hands. And what I did next? It changed everything. Two weeks later, after taking very intentional actions, I walked into my follow-up appointment with the ophthalmologist. The visit started the same way as the first—more tests. But this time, the doctor’s response was completely different. He was astounded! Just two weeks earlier, my vision had been 20/200. Now? It was 20/20—the same perfect vision I had my entire life before this experience. It was completely restored! I already knew this walking in, but seeing his reaction was priceless. “How??” he asked, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’ve never seen this before!” I shrugged, grinning. “I stopped eating meat.” He laughed—really laughed. Then he shook his head. “No way, I don’t believe that. Are you sure?” His disbelief was clear, but the proof was standing right in front of him. The following week, I met with the medical doctor to review the results of the MRI I had taken three weeks prior. She explained that I had the onset of Multiple Sclerosis, with lesions on my brain affecting the optic nerve, causing inflammation that had led to my blindness. She told me I needed to start an immediate and indefinite course of corticosteroids to combat the inflammation. She kept going, detailing my new diagnosis—the limitations I should expect, the pain and debilitating symptoms that could come, and the medications that would help me “manage” it all. I sat. I listened. Patiently. When she finally finished, I said, “I’m better. I can see. The headaches are gone. I think I want to hold off on the medication.” She was shocked. Still, she insisted I take the steroids, claiming that my vision returning after cutting out meat was purely coincidence. She even suggested I try reintroducing meat to “see what happens.” But it was too late. I was already sold on the treatment that had saved my life.