When I was young and stupid I used to live in a little town not far from the Grand Canyon in Arizona. The creek that flowed through the town was a tributary to the Grand Canyon and the same forces of local geography that carved out the Grand Canyon meant the town sat at the bottom of a valley surrounded by thousand foot tall red cliffs. It was like living at the bottom of a smaller version of the Grand Canyon.

My job was on top of the cliffs. The daily commute included hair pin turns up the side of a rock wall. I had a motorcycle back then. The morning drive to work wasn't unusual. The bike was sort of gutless and I drove slow because there were a lot of deer in the area at dawn. But in the afternoons something crazy happened.

The heat coming off the desert road, the echo of the motorcycle engine reverberating off the cliffs, and the knowledge I was done working for the day all combined into something dangerous. I flew down those cliffs like a madman on the drive home, leaning so hard into turns that I was inches away from the asphalt. The line between the bike and I blurred until it was hard to tell where I ended and the machine began. My reflexes felt razor sharp, my senses tuned in, my confidence invincible. I could almost feel the tires gripping the road and the gasoline moving through the bike's veins into the carburetor. It was addicting.

It was also stupid. I'm not just saying that in hindsight, I knew it was stupid when I was doing it. One mistake and I would either slam into the rock wall on my left or plunge 500 feet down to the river on my right. A deer in the road - hell, even a squirrel in the road would have meant death. An oncoming car on the other side of a hairpin turn would have broke every bone in my body. The slightest loss of traction could send me off the side of the cliff. But I couldn't help myself. Flirting with death made me feel alive. And I loved it!

In a strange way going blind reminds me of those days. I've made a blind bucket list and everything I check off of it makes me feel alive. Standing in the batting cages and swinging at softballs I can no longer see? Hell yeah! Waterskiing with my kids? Yes please! Nerf Gun war with the grandkids? You little twerps better run 'cause Grandpa's on the warpath! Seeing Def Leppard one more time? Absolutely!

Going blind recalibrates a person's priorities. Working is good - I'm not denying that - but working had become my identity. Losing my eyesight set me free. I'm not my job anymore. Losing my job meant losing my old self, and that led to finding my real self.

OP, I'm not on the exact same path you're on but it's similar enough that I recognize it. You've left everyone's expectations behind you and you're looking forward, not back.

Rock on, my friend. Rock on!

When I was first diagnosed, I was told "total blindness in under five years". That was in 1994. I am just NOW to the point I can't drive at night.

Fight the good fight. Accept that you may lose the fight, but fight it anyway.

Good luck.

Thats a hard one, i dont quiet understand what risks you take, but i understand why you need to be direct to others, it's because you have been hit very hard with suchaninformation.
But you should be kind to people around you, if you are to hard on them, they might turn you their backs..
But im not certain if im correct in my understanding of your post.

Best wishes

Maybe it won't happen so fast brother.. blood flow is key.. best