To New Jersey resident Nancy Nusbaum, the world has always been beautiful. But after receiving two cornea transplants, she discovered just how much beauty she had been missing.
Today, Nancy sees everyday wonders with a renewed sense of appreciation and behind every new discovery is an awareness that she didn't receive this gift alone. Two selfless people and their families made it possible for her to see the world differently, and she carries their generosity with her wherever she goes.
Living with corneal disease
Nancy spent much of her life adapting to vision limitations without fully understanding what was causing them. As a child, she visited the local optometrist and was told that they were unsure what was wrong with her vision and that glasses wouldn't correct it.
"When you can't see something already or you don't know it's there, you don't know you're missing it," she said.
Years later, while working at The Seeing Eye, a philanthropic organization whose mission is to enhance the independence, dignity and self-confidence of blind people through the use of Seeing Eye® dogs, Nancy began working with an ophthalmologist. During a routine eye exam, he explained that she had a form of corneal disease that would eventually require a transplant.
Nancy describes her condition as corneal guttata, which affected nearly every aspect of how she perceived the world around her. It was like looking through wet glass all the time, and glare was especially difficult, making driving nearly impossible on rainy or bright days.
As her vision continued to decline, everyday activities were affected. Nancy purchased large-print books and relied on oversized computer monitors at home and work. Even completing routine work responsibilities required extra assistance.
"I had a giant magnifying glass to read the numbers," she said, describing the difficulty of reviewing expense accounts for approximately 35 colleagues.
The changes extended beyond what Nancy could physically see. Having spent 35 years working at The Seeing Eye, she had witnessed firsthand how vision loss could affect a person's independence, relationships, career and confidence.
She began to experience some of those same concerns herself, eventually reaching a point when her vision limitations affected too many parts of her life. Her doctors had always encouraged her to make the decision about surgery when she felt the time was right.
As they had explained to Nancy, "When life tells you it's time, then it's time."
Holding hope and grief together
When Nancy began preparing for her first cornea transplant, she experienced a mixture of emotions. She was hopeful that surgery could restore her vision, but she also understood the uncertainty that came with it.
Still, she wanted to focus on what could go right, not wrong. But as her first surgery approached, another emotion began to take hold, one that had little to do with her own medical journey.
Nancy's first transplant was scheduled for the week of Christmas. She celebrated with her family the weekend before, knowing she would spend the following week recovering. After everyone had left, she found herself alone in the living room, overwhelmed by the realization of what was about to happen.
"I started crying because the surgery was tentatively for that Tuesday, and I knew someone was dying," she said. "Someone was in the midst of their darkest point—they were dying and their family was making a decision about someone they would never meet or know their name."
She thought about the person whose cornea would make her transplant possible and the family experiencing what could be the darkest moment of their lives. That realization made the transplant much bigger than a medical procedure.
"I was just imagining that kind of grief, and that kind of courage that it took to think about something like that in the middle of all you're going through."
For Nancy, the gift carried a profound meaning.
"The gift—it was powerful and sacred. It was not like having a hip replacement. It was something else. It was a different kind of feeling. There's so many emotions that merge together in a beautiful way."
A world coming into focus
After her first cornea transplant in her right eye, Nancy's recovery was gradual and her doctor hadn't given her a specific timeline for when she might begin to see improvements. But one winter morning, approximately two weeks after her surgery, Nancy experienced a moment she would never forget.
It was early January, and her husband had the fireplace going in their living room. During recovery, Nancy could get up for only short periods of time. When she did, she would stand at the top of the staircase, close her left eye and try to see what was happening below.
"I looked over the railing, and in a little teeny-tiny square, like a patchwork in the middle of my eye, I saw light, and it was the fire from the fireplace," she said.
It was the first glimpse of something recognizable. And then, little by little, more images appeared until eventually she could see the entire fireplace.
"Each day from there it built outward. It was like a jigsaw puzzle," she said.
It was a simple moment at home—one many people take for granted—but for Nancy, it represented the beginning of seeing her world again.
New opportunities through restored vision
As her vision improved, Nancy began noticing things she didn’t know she was missing. One afternoon she remembers riding in the car with her husband on the way to a doctor's appointment. They were stopped at a red light when a blue car pulled up alongside them. For Nancy, the color was almost unrecognizable. 
Because of her corneal disease, Nancy had never been able to see the color blue the way most people do. Seeing that color so vividly for the first time was a revelation.
She also noticed the intricate patterns in her wooden floors, the leaves on the trees and details in her surroundings that had previously gone unseen.
Her restored vision also opened the door to new adventures, like learning how to play the guitar.
"I think learning guitar probably would have been impossible if I had lost my sight," she said. "Now I can read sheet music, I can see the notes beneath my fingers, and I feel so grateful, so blessed, so humbled by that."
The cornea transplants have given Nancy more than the ability to see more clearly. They have helped restore her confidence in the things she wants to experience and the activities that bring her joy.
And she wants to do that not only for herself, but also in honor of the two people who made it possible.
Sharing gratitude and compassion
The connection to her donors didn't end when Nancy left the operating room. It has become part of how she experiences each day.
She often thinks about the people who gave her the opportunity to see again, imagining where they lived, what they experienced and the things they may never have had the opportunity to see themselves.
"Every morning when I get up and I'm brushing my teeth, I'll look in the mirror and I'll say, 'So, what are WE going to see today?'"
She doesn't know what her donors experienced in their lives, whether they were able to see a major city or go on outdoor adventures. But through eye donation, Nancy believes they now get to experience those moments alongside her.
"When I see the beauty around me, whether it's New York City, whether it's something in nature, I think, 'Well, maybe you're seeing this too for the first time and we're seeing it together.'"
Nancy wants donor families to know that their loved ones are not forgotten. Through their gifts, they have made new experiences, discoveries and memories possible.
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