By Chris Gibbs

It was early this past October, on a Saturday, when Dad called to ask if I could take him to the eye doctor the following Tuesday. He was having trouble seeing out of his right eye and decided not to drive. “Sure,” I said. “I’ll pick you up, and maybe we’ll do the Waffle House after.”

When I arrived Tuesday morning, he was dressed, but was unusually unstable as we maneuvered into the truck and off to the doctor. “Chris, your dad has had a stroke, and it probably occurred last week. He’s lost total vision in his right eye, and it’s irreparable. I’m obligated to send him directly to the emergency room for examination,” said the optometrist.

The diagnosis would launch us both into a maze of administrative and gut-wrenching twists and turns, seemingly designed to confuse and

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