Forcing a light

My Grandfather ran a wheel of fortune booth at the Palace on the Boardwalk at Asbury Park. He would leave early in the day with a lunch packed by my Nana which would always include a Tastycake wrapped in wax paper.
After she died and he had a bout of cancer in his jaw, he returned to work with half his mouth missing, yet when I would visit, I could hear him before I could see him standing in front of the wheel and the various stuffed animals. His words were totally incoherent and, he had a microphone.
I was reminded of his transformation when I read the Memoir Invisible by Hugues De Montalembert. This visual artist was robbed and blinded by two assailants in his studio in NYC.
He describes in detail and quite lyrically how he managed to come to some sort of a reconciliation with his situation and to move forward with his life. Ironically of course he was a visual artist and learning to live within only an interior world was paramount.
When there are only one or two choices, to either adapt or give up, it becomes a matter of perseverance and trickery. What we think we could never manage or adjust to, remarkably become everyday things that incrementally come to be everything that we barely notice, which make up our lives.