The known and the unknown stand at the beginning point of any journey we make during our life time. If the knowledge we possess at the beginning of a journey suggests that it will be filled with satisfying and rewarding experiences, then we begin with happy steps that will lead us to a desirable destination.

But if we begin the journey with insufficient knowledge as to where our journey is taking us, then our steps become unsteady and our thinking becomes cloudy and we face the prospect of reaching an unhappy ending at an undesirable destination.

All of us have experienced both kinds of journey beginnings. You have had yours and I have had mine - one bringing a sense of comfort and delight - the other bringing a sense of fear and trepidation. We love the first and we have a genuine distaste for the second. Unfortunately, it is the second that presents a serious problem for me, and I can find no comfort zone in it, leaving me with a sense of fear and anxiety. It has become my personal journey into the unknown.

As I gave serious thought to this new journey, my memory took me back to the beginning of this journey into the unknown. It began with visits to my ophthalmologist, Dr. Bernard Patty. I was experiencing vision problems and he informed me that the tests he had made indicated that I had an eye disorder called macular degeneration. Not being familiar with this disorder, I began asking questions and doing personal research. What I discovered was not good news - not good news at all!

For starters, I discovered that age related macular degeneration (AMD) is the leading cause of irreversible vision loss for people living in the United States. This incurable condition attacks the central portion of the retina, the part of the eye that receives light patterns and transmits them to the brain. Furthermore, macular degeneration progressively damages or destroys the part of the vision used for reading or seeing fine details. No good news in that either - no good news at all!.

Those of us who have this disorder develop an area of vision loss that slowly increases in diameter until, over a period of time, we are unable to read small print and even see groups of two or three words at normal reading distance.  There is no good news here either – it is all bad, really, really bad!

And, if that isn't enough, AMD targets the most sensitive part of the retina, a cluster of cells called the macula located directly in its center. There are two forms of AMD, dry and wet. I, and 90 percent of others who are afflicted with this disorder, have the dry kind. In the dry kind the macular cells slowly waste away, causing gradual vision loss. The unwelcome words "slowly waste away" accurately describes what has happened to me. While there is no physical pain associated with AMD, the emotional pain is severe and long lasting.

A letter to me from Dr. Patty confirms that all my fears concerning the seriousness of AMD are justified. He wrote: "Dear Mr. Morrison: As you are aware, you have a...history of macular degeneration. Your maculae are predominately dry and no treatment other than antioxidant vitamins is indicated at this time... Your vision is diminished because of your macular degeneration... "

This information confirmed my fear that the slow progression of my macular degeneration was launching me closer and closer to the time when critical changes to my life style would begin to happen - changes over which I had little or no control.

This was a continuation of my journey into the unknown and it began to take on an identifiable form and shape that presented a new challenge to my ability to navigate through the emotional terrain that is associated with learning to live with an age related disability

The list of activities that are affected by AMD is so long that to mention all of them would be tedious to read. And, standing at the top of that list is the privilege of driving an automobile. My progressive AMD changed a significant question from "should I continue driving" to "when will I" stop driving? Wisdom dictates that I set a date when I would remove the key from the ignition of my faithful Chevrolet, park it under the drooping limbs of an ancient magnolia tree and never drive it again.

Wisdom tells me it is the correct decision to make, but that same wisdom cannot keep the tears from flowing freely from my eyes. Wisdom correctly tells me to end my driving, but wisdom cannot rescue me from the loss of independent living - one of life's most valuable possessions a person can enjoy.

I now became more acutely aware of the meaning of my journey into the unknown, and curious kinds of thoughts began coursing through my brain, like: What would be my choice of a final destination after 65 years of driving? The choice I made would the value I placed on that destination, wherever it might be.

The choices were many, but only one would receive the honor of being the last destination to visit before surrendering my privilege to drive. This was a one-time event that could never be repeated. It would go down in history as either the best or the worst decisions of a lifetime.

When I drove out of my driveway on a pleasant afternoon, only I and my faithful car knew where we were going. The two of us had gone there many times before. Turning west, I traveled to Forest Hill where I turned north toward Woodworth. Continuing on toward Alexandria, I began slowing down before I reached the entrance of Alexandria Golf and Country Club. No, the Country Club was not my destination.

Just south of the Country Club was another well known entrance used by the citizens of Alexandria and Central Louisiana. The sign read: Alexandria Memorial Gardens, a lovely and well kept cemetery where my wife's grave site is located. This is it! This is my destination and my heart grew warm with the anticipation of spending quiet time with grateful thoughts going through my mind about life with Doris. And soon there were other thoughts - serious thoughts about my continuing journey into the unknown.

It is an Indian Summer day and there is silence all around, except for the sound of pine tree branches as they are moved about by a gentle breeze. I find it to be a tranquil setting and I feel calm and am at peace with myself. This is what I have always experienced when I visited her grave. During her eighteen years of an adventure with two different forms of cancer, she demonstrated a remarkable ability to stay in charge of her life. This was her personal journey into the unknown and it was her vital faith and victorious spirit that enabled her to navigate through the emotional terrain of deadly cancer cells.

Now you know why I chose this destination. It was to remind me of the power of a vital faith and a victorious spirit. It was my desire to allow the spiritual ambience of this sacred place - a place where the memories of how she made a successful journey into the unknown. The question now is: Will I be as successful in my journey as she was in her journey? Only the passage of time will tell.

Note: Part two of this column will be found in the in the next issue.