By Dawn Phelps
The first time I met Terri was in December 2014 when I took another hospice employee with me to meet her. Before going, when I asked for her street address, Terri said, “My house will be the one with the candy canes.” So, I knew I was at the right house when I spotted candy canes lining a sidewalk, and Terri warmly welcomed us at her front door.
The second time I visited her was in October 2025, too early for Christmas decorations, but I was again warmly welcomed. She had agreed to let my husband Tom come with me to meet her, and it was amazing to see her again 11 years later.
As before, her house was neat and tidy and decorated for autumn. She invited us in. She and I sat on the couch, and Tom sat in a recliner. She was easy to talk to, and we “caught up” on the many changes since I had last seen her. By then, her daughters had grown up and married, and Terri now had 4 grandsons and 2 granddaughters. But first, let me tell you a little about Terri’s story from our 2014 meeting.
TERRI’S STORY. Terri was born in a small town in Kansas in the house where I visited her. She grew up and attended public school, and after high school, she married her classmate, Jim, in 1979. Terri and Jim lived in various locations in Kansas and Nebraska while Jim worked for the railroad.
After a few years, she and Jim moved back to her childhood home where Terri currently lives—where they raised their two daughters, Mistina (Misty) and Stephanie. Life was going fairly well for Terri and her family until February 1992. That’s when Terri lost her eyesight.
She told me, “When I went to bed I could see, and when I woke up, I could not see.” She continued, “I rubbed my eyes and wondered ‘What in the world!’” Terri’s local eye doctor referred her to a specialist. Without any tests to confirm a diagnosis, the specialist told her, “You have a brain tumor.” Terri said she was devastated, but a CT scan and MRI were negative for a brain tumor.
When she and her husband went back to the eye specialist with the good news, he responded with, “Then you have MS,” again with no tests to back up his words. She said her husband told the specialist they would not be coming back. Terri described the eye doctor’s bedside manner as “awful” and said she “left his office bawling—twice.”
After that, she went to doctors in Kansas City, looking for answers, begging them to “do something,” but there was nothing they could do. She said, “I never even had eye drops.” Her final diagnosis was optic neuritis, an inflammation of the optic nerve, but the cause was never determined. Stress? Birth control pills? One doctor even suggested her hair was too long and heavy!
Terri was only 35 years old when she lost her eyesight many years ago. Her daughters were 4 and 7 years old at the time. After her world turned dark, she said she stayed on the couch for two weeks, refusing to do anything.
For those two weeks, Jim worked during the day, came home and fixed supper, and made sure the girls had their baths. Then one evening Jim told her, “I can’t say that I know how you feel, but I feel bad for you. I don’t think you want me to raise these kids by myself. So, you better get your ‘rear’ up and help me raise these kids!”
She said that was enough to get her out of her slump—his words woke her up! She had to learn to do everything without her eyesight, including cooking, cleaning, and more. She also learned how to knit and weave baskets, and she keeps her house spotlessly clean and grows flowers outdoors in the summer!
Jim died of cancer on February 20, 2011, after they had been married for 31 years. She spoke lovingly of Jim, stating they used to go fishing and take walks together after she lost her eyesight. She said that when Jim turned 50, he bought a Harley motorcycle and they rode all over the state of Kansas together, describing it as “scary” at first, but adding “I trusted him.”
Terri used to bowl on a team. She said she started bowling rather than sitting around and feeling sorry for herself after she lost her eyesight. She averaged 107, and her highest score was 179. She missed having her name on a wall by 1 point—180 score is required. Terri’s blindness did not hold her team back—their team went to State competition several years! She said that she had to quit bowling a few years ago due to problems with her shoulder.
When asked how she bowled, she said she measured from the ball return. She has a little light perception. She said the gutter was a little darker than the alley, so she threw the ball accordingly. She could not see the pins, and if pins were left standing, her friends told her which pins she needed to knock down.
During my first visit, I counted 24 baskets in Terri’s house that she had woven. Unique, beautiful, quality work. During my first visit, she showed me a country-blue scarf that she was working on, and during the second visit she pointed out a blue cloth on a table that she had also knitted, and she continues to knit!
Terri’s story has been astounding (unbelievable) to me as it may be to you. But there is more to tell—too much to tell in one article. So, stay tuned until next week for the “rest of the story,” as Paul Harvey would say, for “Candy Canes, Part II).
