Cure Blindness Project

Three years ago, Patience’s life changed forever when she received a heart-wrenching call from her brother, Paul, in the middle of the night. Living in Ghana’s Volta Region, Patience was a farmer and trader, working tirelessly to support her family. Her brother Paul, a driver for a reputable company in Greater Accra, was the family’s beacon of success, providing for his wife and four children. “With the little money I made, I was able to care for my immediate family and still support those back home,” Paul once shared with pride.

But that night, everything fell apart. Paul, who had been ignoring discomfort in his right eye, woke to use the washroom and discovered he could no longer see. Completely blind and in shock, he turned to Patience, unable to face telling his wife and children. “I just started weeping,” Patience recalls, her voice heavy with the memory. “I wasn’t there to help my brother.” She quickly contacted his wife to assist him, but the family’s struggles were only beginning.

Paul’s blindness led to the loss of his job, and soon after, his wife left him, overwhelmed by the sudden change. Patience, without hesitation, left her livelihood behind in the Volta Region and moved to Accra to care for her brother. The weight of supporting Paul and his children fell on her shoulders, and hope seemed distant.

Then, a glimmer of possibility emerged. Patience learned about the National Cataract Outreach Program (NCOP), supported by Cure Blindness Project, which was holding an outreach in Tema, near Accra. With renewed determination, she brought Paul to the site, only to face heartbreak again—it was the last day of the outreach, and they were too late. “I just started weeping out loud,” Patience says. “Everyone was looking at me, but I didn’t care.”

Moved by their desperation, the NCOP team shared news of another outreach in Koforidua, three hours away. Refusing to give up, Patience embarked on the journey with Paul, clinging to the hope of restoring his sight. The next day, after a successful bilateral cataract surgery, the moment of truth arrived. As the ophthalmologist removed the patches from Paul’s eyes, Patience stood by, holding her breath. When his eyes were cleaned, Paul looked at his sister, smiled, and called her name in their local dialect.

Patience broke down in tears—this time, tears of joy. “Thank you so much, Cure Blindness Project and the entire team, for restoring my brother’s sight,” she said, her gratitude boundless. “I look forward to him taking care of himself and working again.”

Patience’s unwavering love and sacrifice gave Paul a second chance at life. Her story is a testament to the power of family. Cure Blindness Project knows that restoring life helps not only the patient but also the caregiver. With Paul’s sight restored, Patience can also return to her life as a farmer and trader.

Links:

• Learn more by visiting Cure Blindness.org

Stoic and silent, Paul, 90, sits in the 9-man passenger van driven by community outreach coordinator Samuel Nji. Paul’s family had explained the need to travel to the hospital and spend the night before his scheduled surgery. Although Paul knows this, he is anxious. It’d been three years since he’d been able to see his children’s faces. He desperately wants the surgery but he is afraid.

 If anyone understands the fear and isolation of being blind, it’s Stevenson. He’d been unable to see until recently. City Eye Hospital in Nyeri, Kenya performed sight-restoring cataract surgery on his left eye. He is returning to the hospital to have his right eye corrected.

Whether divine intervention or happy coincidence, these two share a ride to the hospital.

Stevenson bounds into the van, bursting with excitement. He’s counting the minutes until his next surgery. He knows the life-changing effect of the first one. To have sight restored to both his eyes? It seems a miracle beyond measure.

This is the exact right person to be beside Paul as he navigates the unknown waters of his own surgical journey.

“Since I was helped, I want to help others,” explains Stevenson, 82.

Stevenson’s chatter is upbeat, encouraging, and constant during the 30-minute road trip to City Eye Hospital. Once there, Stevenson assigns himself in charge of Paul’s care: taking the man to the bathroom, holding his hand and leading him to the pre-op testing stations, sitting beside him as they wait.

Once registered and having completed pre-op testing, the two men settle into the ward to spend the evening. Stevenson reports that “Paul got up in the night. He was afraid and wanted to leave but I calmed him down and talked to him until he fell asleep.”

The next morning, nurses wake the ward to begin preparations for surgery.

Stevenson enters the operating theater first. Twenty minutes later he’s done. Paul waits patiently for his turn.

“The doctors will fix you,” Stevenson says, gently patting Paul’s back. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Tomorrow when we can see again, we dance.”

As promised, there is dancing. And a little singing. The two celebrate together and a few staff members join in. It’s difficult not to when joy fills the room. Paul is able to see the face of his new friend who walked with him every step of this journey.

This blossoming friendship touched all those who watched it develop and grow. Strangers before their meeting through City Eye Hospital, they will forever be linked by this shared experience.

Photo Credit: Michele Cardamone Photography

Links:

• Cure Blindness Project