Tony is no ordinary guy.
Born with the eye disease—Congenital Glaucoma—Tony spent the first 29 years of his life with perfect vision, however in the back of his mind, always worried if and when he would go blind. He was living in Baltimore and flourishing at work when his vision one day became slightly ‘cloudy.’ Naturally concerned, he began seeing a specialist at Johns Hopkins Hospital, a hospital ranked number one in the country for 21 years.
After saving $10,000 and battling insurance companies, he agreed to have a surgical procedure that would clear his vision. Two days after the surgery, he felt the most excruciating pain ever behind his eyes and then suddenly, everything went dark.
On May 22, 2012 Tony went blind.
“Everything went dark,” he said. “I wouldn’t let myself believe it. I still had hope that my vision would come back.”
But it never did. It was like the lights turned off and then never turned back on.
“I was angry. I wanted to sue everybody! My doctor was so confident that the surgery would work. But eventually, you realize that anger doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help anyone.”
He never told his parents that the procedure was even happening and expected life to be normal again afterward – as it had been for thousands of others who had the same surgery done, at the same institution, by the same doctor.
“My family took it the hardest when I lost my vision. They were so upset—they blamed themselves.”
A month after he went blind, Tony sank into a deep depression. He lost thirty pounds and contemplated ending his life. He realized that he needed help.
Tony reached out to Andrea Bodnari, a friend from his hometown of Lancaster and a teacher to the visually impaired. Andrea packed up her life and her family to come and live with TC for a week. She helped Tony learn the basics of being both independent and visually impaired. His biggest fear in life was now his reality.
Though his life seemed to change in every way imaginable, it was Tony’s workplace that ensured him that his leadership was not affected by his vision. When Tony came back to work (after a mere thirty days off), his office had been transformed. Supplied with the best technology for the visually impaired, Tony was trained on how to use this new technology and was given a personal secretary.
After six months, however, Tony made the decision to transfer to Philadelphia. Unlike in Baltimore, he wasn’t well received in the Philly office.
“They would talk to me like I was a child and it was embarrassing. They didn’t treat me like a superior. It took time to earn their respect. I had to really put my foot down to show them that ‘hey guys, I know I’m blind, but I have expectations—and this is what I expect of you.’”
Despite his initial problems at work, Tony doesn’t regret moving back to Philly.
“I love it here,” he gushed with a smile on his face. “There’s so much culture in Philly; so many good people. You don’t get that anywhere else like you can here.”
So how does Tony maintain his sunny disposition? He says that it’s his will to sustain his independence that keeps him going. Additionally, his parents serve as a major motivator.
“I keep my head up because I want to ensure that my parents are OK,” he said. “The one thing this experience has taught me is that life is so short—and how we live sometimes stops us from living.”
He explained, “We get caught up in money and work and problems, and we don’t spend enough time focusing on what’s really important. If you have the ability to do something, do it. Don’t stress about it.”
Although Tony confessed that he misses many things about being able to see (colors and facial expressions, among other things), he is thankful for what he has.
He spoke briefly about a past relationship that was affected by his visual impairment. “Her parents could never accept me,” he said. “But what can I do about that? Nothing. There are people who are going to respond negatively, but I can’t let it get it to me.”
Tony often ponders the question, “If you had to be one, would you rather be blind or deaf?”
Although he has no choice in his fate, his answer is both surprising and beautiful.
“I enjoy conversations. I like talking to people; I like to be in the loop. I can function without my vision—and each day gets easier with the acceptance of being blind—but I’m thankful that I can still hear music, hear laughter, and hear my family’s voices.”
While many people might crumble under the immense devastation of abruptly losing their vision, Tony perseveres. Along with testing websites for the White House Initiative on Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders (Tony makes sure that the websites are suitable for the visually impaired—and he does this for free; his “service” to society, as he calls it), Tony is up to speed on the latest technology.
Tony texts. When his iPhone receives a text message, it reads the message aloud at lightning speed—a speed at which Tony taught himself to understand. To everyone else, a simple “Hey, how’s it going?” sounds like a half second of gibberish. To Tony, it’s perfectly normal.
“My phone is set up to read everything out loud. It was taking forever to read whole messages though, so I changed the settings. I made the reading speed faster and just taught myself to understand it.”
When he’s not texting his friends and family, he uses a variety of Apps that are specifically geared toward those who are blind. There are Apps for everything from matching your clothes, to counting your dollar bills.
“But I don’t have Facebook,” he says. “Not because I can’t have one, just because I don’t really want it. I got tired of it.”
And while many of us take things like being able to cross the street with ease for granted, little things like this are a struggle for Tony. He recently relocated to a condo across from his work to help with this problem after a scary accident that left him in the middle of a busy street with a broken cane and no sense of direction.
And yet, Tony is still thankful for his life and those who have supported him. At 31, he’s one of the youngest employees to reach management at a Federal agency, and he supervises roughly 20 people at work every day. Tony plays and records music in his home, never having taken a single singing or piano lesson. He can probably bench press more than the average 31 year old, run with more stamina and would gladly challenge you to a pull up contest.
“Regardless of being blind, I’m blessed beyond belief because of the people around me, and the support that they’ve given me.”
