I lost my left eye just after my first birthday -- I'd fallen seriously ill. My artificial eye was very convincing and I usually wore glasses over it -- even my boyfriend, Mick, didn't really notice. I told him I was blind in one eye just before we got married -- I was 19 at the time. He said he didn't care and that he loved me just the same. The day before we married, I was at my parents' house, when my other eye suddenly went blurry  . My dad phoned the doctor, who told him it was probably nerves  and I'd be fine by morning. He was right -- when I awoke, I was able to read my good luck cards. The wedding photographer arrived just as I was putting on my dress and I was called into the garden for a pre-ceremony photo. There was no time even to look in a mirror. Afterwards, we drove straight to the church. It was a sunny day, and as we approached I could see all our friends waiting. The service was delightful, and Mick and I went into the minister's office to sign the register -- the last thing I ever wrote with my sight. It was only when we reached the hotel, where the reception was taking place, that I started to feel strange. As we waited to greet our guests, my sight started to become blurry again and I really had to concentrate as our friends and family lined up to congratulate us. Afterwards, we went into the reception room, so the photographer could take our picture as we pretended to cut the cake. That's when the pain started. "Don't let anyone know!"my mum said. She'd always blamed herself for the loss of my other eye, wishing she'd taken me to the doctor earlier. Only a few family members had ever been told -- even my close friends had beennone the wiser. So even as the pain became more severe, I carried on as if nothing was happening. I'd waited so long for this day, and everyone seemed so happy, I didn't want to spoil things. I couldn't make anything out, but I managed tostay calm and made it through the meal and the speeches. I suppose it's normal for the bride and groom to stay close together after a wedding, and Mick led me around properly. We took regular dance lessons, so the first dance passed without incident, Mick leading me in a slow, graceful waltz. Afterwards, we left the building to see if a bit of air would improve the situation, but it didn't help, and nor did a lie-down. I still thought the blurriness would pass, as it had the night before. But I finally accepted that things just weren't going to get better on their own -- I was in so much pain. Mick sent for a doctor, who took one look at me and called for an ambulance. At the hospital, I remember a nurse bursting into tears when she saw me arrive -- I still had confetti   in my hair. I was diagnosed with glaucoma, a disease in the eye that causes terrible pressure -- it was unrelated to the problems I'd had as a child, just a coincidence. An operation to try to save my sight seemed successful at first -- as the bandages were removed, I remember seeing a vase of flowers at the end of the bed. But it's the last thing I ever saw. It was hard, but I coped, and nearly 40 years on I feel I've had a full and active life. There are sights I'll always feel sad not to have seen -- the face of the daughter and my grandchildren. I'll always regret not finding the time to look in the mirror on the morning of my wedding, too -- despite everything that happened, I have happy memories of the ceremony. We can infer from the passage that the writer   .
never got to see herself as a bride signed the register led by Mick held the ceremony at Mick's house walked to the church with Mick