Chapter Text
Remus blinked hard. Once. Twice. As if eventually, he’d open his eyes and be somewhere, anywhere, else. Anywhere but in a hospital office, the harsh white light dazzling off pristine white and chrome surfaces. Somewhere where this whole experience, the diagnosis, the years of ignoring the obvious, were nothing more than a bad dream.
“Retina – what?” He asked. His mouth was dry, and the words scratched his throat.
“Retinitis Pigmentosa. It’s a bit of a mouthful, so we just call it RP.” The doctor, a young woman with pale blonde hair, pulled out a large, laminated diagram of the eye and began to point out all the ways in which his were defective. “It’s a term for a collection of genetic disorders that affect the retina – the part of your eye that converts light. Typically, the rods – the bits of the eye that are in charge of peripheral and night vision – are impacted first. The cones, which manage your central vision and colour, may follow. That’s why you first noticed yourself struggling more in low lighting or looking out of the corner of your eye.”
Remus blinked again and shook his head. “It can’t be that. If it’s genetic. My parents…”
“It isn’t always inherited. Sometimes it develops spontaneously.”
Remus thought of Sirius then. His spontaneity was one of the things Remus loved most about him. This didn’t feel like the right kind of spontaneous.
“So, what happens now?” Remus asked, swallowing the fear that rose like bile in his throat. “Will I need surgery, or…”
The doctor shook her head, her features soft and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Remus. There’s currently no cure for RP. There is plenty of support available and we’ll give you details for various organisations who can provide emotional support, mobility training and other tools to help you adjust.”
“But eventually, I’ll be completely blind.” The realisation hit Remus like a punch to the gut, sending the air whooshing from his lungs. He thought of all the books that lined the shelves of his flat. Would he get the chance to read them all? Half of them, even? All the nights spent curled up with Sirius watching TV. What would they do now?
“It’s highly likely, yes. But it could take years. Decades even. It is generally a very slow progression. But you will notice deterioration over time.”
Remus opened and closed his mouth as he tried to formulate the million questions that were racing through his mind. The doctor put her laminate to one side and pulled a pile of leaflets from a drawer. Remus’s fingers twitched. He hesitated, as if reaching out, touching the papers, would make them and the situation real. And it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be.
“This will obviously be a really challenging time for you, Remus, but you don’t have to go through it alone. There is support out there, for you and your family.” The doctor stopped and tilted her head. “Do you feel you have a good support network? You mentioned your parents. What about siblings? Friends? A partner?”
Remus nodded mutely. He thought of his parents, who had their own lives to lead, enjoying their retirement. He couldn’t hold them back. He thought of James, Lily, and Peter. He thought of Sirius. Beautiful, vibrant, spontaneous Sirius, who had come through and survived so much already for them to be together. He didn’t deserve to take on this new burden of Remus’s when he was still carrying so many of his own. He deserved so much better, so much more than Remus would now be able to give him. Sirius was so full of life, so electric. Remus would only hold him back. He couldn’t do it.
“I can’t…” He started, but the lump in his throat choked him.
“You can.” The doctor smiled softly. “It will be challenging, of course. But you will get through it. You will have to lean on people – and that’s okay.”
Remus swallowed. He lifted his gaze, his eyes taking a moment to focus on the gentle face looking back at him. A shiver wracked through his body and he sighed. Tentatively, his hand trembling uncontrollably, he reached out and scooped up the leaflets.