I am a writer. At times, I fancy myself an artist. I create things. With pen, paper, a camera, paint.

My mother says that I ate the world up as a young girl. That I couldn't get enough. I would stay up into the wee hours, watching the shadows on the wall or examining the shapes on the wallpaper from top to bottom and then bottom to top. She also says I didn't care to sleep. She felt I was afraid I'd miss something. I think she's right.

I still spend a lot of time looking at things. Feeling light, color, and texture with my eyes. Scrutinizing the world around me. I suppose some of this is the artist in me. The need to really SEE things before I can include them in the art I'm making.

And some of it is how afraid I am of losing my eyesight.

I believe the worst possible complication of diabetes, for me, would be retinopathy that steals my sight. And so, in preparation for the possibility of that day, I think, I'm collecting. Collecting visions of this world that I'll be able to visit should things go dark. I want vibrant, vivid, detailed recollections to use if the day comes when diabetes steals my ability to see. It's not morbid, I say, it's practical. It's smart. And it's just my way.

I know many people whose eyesight has been affected by their life with diabetes. Some have mild retinopathy, others barely see at all, two are completely blind. Their experiences with this complication chill me to the bone - mostly because they vary so much. Some had years of laser treatment with some success, others weren't so lucky. Some had numerous doctors visits with spots appearing and dissolving. Some went to the doctor after six months of what they thought was responsible care to find that their once spotless eyes were filled with bleeds.

I brace myself each time I visit the eye doctor. Sitting in the chair with my pupils the size of pennies. My knuckles rollercoaster-white. My breath coming deep and sighing. I am afraid of the announcement of little spots or big bleeds. I am afraid of being told that it's OK, it's treatable or being told that my eyesight will simply never be the same. I am afraid of any news that isn't "things are looking good."

I have been fortunate so far. I've always heard that the news is good.

But between visits, I continue to do my best to really see the world spreading out before me, behind me, above me, below me. I eat up the blue sky or the rain clouds or the way the building lights climb into the city sky. I consume the look on my lover's face when he tells me he loves me or tells me a joke. I memorize the lines starting to form on my own face, the waves in my hair, the scars I have earned. I devour the wondrous little creatures that are my nieces and nephews, taking in their eyes and their skin and their hair. I store it all away.

Because I know that diabetes could steal away my sight.

But diabetes can never. Ever. Have my visions.