Anne Louise has always been someone who keeps moving forward.
At 65, she had already raised four children on her own, built a life around teaching and creativity, and returned to university later in life. Resilience was something she knew well.
So when her vision began to change, she didn’t immediately think the worst.
“It just felt like something was obstructing my vision,” she says.
At first, she thought it was her fringe getting in the way. But even after brushing her hair aside, the feeling didn’t go away. There was no sudden loss of sight—just a growing awareness that something wasn’t right.
Eventually, she decided to have it checked—a small decision that quickly became something much bigger.
After a routine eye appointment, Anne Louise was urgently referred to the Eye and Ear Hospital. She expected something manageable—a detached retina, perhaps.
Instead, she was told there was a tumour.
Looking at the scan, she found herself asking the question many people fear:
“That’s cancer, isn’t it?”
It was ocular melanoma.
In a matter of days, everything changed. She was given three options: radiation, removal of the eye, or a clinical trial.
“I didn’t want to lose my eye,” she says. As an artist, her greatest fear was not only losing her eye, but how altered vision might affect her ability to paint.
She chose to pursue a clinical trial, hoping there might be a way to treat the cancer while preserving her sight.
But the situation was complex—the tumour was large, treatment options were limited, and clinical trials were not immediately available.
“I was on tenterhooks, just waiting.”
As time passed, the risk of waiting became clearer, the possibility of the cancer spreading became a real concern.
When further scans showed the tumour had grown in a way that treatment could no longer reach safely, the decision was made. This time, Anne Louise approached it differently. It was no longer about trying to save what she could—it was about protecting her life.
Removal of the eye was the only option.
Anne Louise’s surgery opened a new perspective in her art with a deeper awareness of how she experienced the world.
Life after surgery required adjustment in ways she hadn’t expected.
“I move differently now,” she explains. “I take things more slowly. I turn my head to see.”
Depth perception had changed. Walking on uneven ground required more care. Everyday interactions took more energy, even something as simple as reading someone’s face.
There were moments of frustration, and moments of reflection.
But within that process, something unexpected began to emerge.
The first thing Anne Louise did after surgery was paint. She needed to know for herself whether she could still do it—and in that moment, she experienced something that stayed with her.
“I realised I had only painted half a canvas… I hadn’t even noticed.”
At first, it was surprising. But it quickly became something more—a realisation about perception.
“It showed me how much our eyes govern what we see.”
From that point, her approach began to shift.
She slowed down. Became more deliberate. She noticed tone, depth and light in new ways.
“I take my time now. I notice things differently.”
What had felt like a limitation began to open a new perspective in her art. Her work became more intentional, shaped by a deeper awareness of how she experienced the world.
“I still can’t get over it,” she says. “But I feel like I’m seeing in a new way. I’m so grateful that I can still see—and still paint.”
Throughout her journey, connection played an important role—not just emotionally, but in helping her make sense of what was happening.
Through Melanoma Patients Australia, Anne Louise spoke with both Peta, Specialist Telehealth Nurse, and Clare, Melanoma Nurse Counsellor.
Her discussions with Peta helped her navigate her diagnosis.
Speaking with a specialist helped ground her thinking, particularly at a time when she had so many questions or feeling unsure about the medical pathway.
While she found emotional support through nurse counselling, “Clare made me feel still connected,” she says. “I could talk without worrying about anyone else.”
Those conversations gave her space to express fears and uncertainties she didn’t want to place on her family.
Talking it through with Peta and Clare, helped her better understand the reality of her diagnosis, the treatment decisions, and why certain options were no longer possible.
It brought clarity at a time when everything had felt fast-moving and overwhelming.
“Knowledge is power,” she reflects. “It helped me understand and accept it.”
Anne Louise is grateful that she can see and continue to paint.
Today, Anne Louise’s life looks different—but it remains full in meaningful ways.
Her days are quieter, more considered. She spends time painting—often for hours at a time—fully absorbed in the process.
There is also joy in the small, everyday moments, when she has a morning coffee and the familiar presence of magpies that visit her garden.
“They come close… sometimes too close to my eye—but they bring their babies,” she says. “It’s lovely.”
There are still challenges ahead but “I don’t want to stop living,” she says.
Anne Louise continues to adjust, building confidence in a world that now feels different. She has started volunteering and learning how to navigate daily life with a new sense of awareness. She is working towards the goal of driving again.
She says, “Driving my car is another test that will come and painting helps prepare me by exercising my visual judgement and spatial awareness.”
Anne Louise continues to create, to adapt, and to move forward with quiet strength and determination. And in doing so, she is learning that even in loss, there can be new ways of seeing, and new ways of living.
Onward and upward.
Anne-Louise shared her story with Melanoma Patients Australia in June 2026. We thank Anne-Louise for the generosity and courage in sharing her story. We acknowledge both the complexity of melanoma and the strength of those who live beside it.
If this story has raised questions or you are seeking support, contact the National Melanoma Support Line on 1300 884 450.
Like this patient story? Head to Melanoma Patients Australia Patient Stories to read more.
If you or a loved one is affected by Melanoma and needs support, we’re here for you, because no one affected by melanoma walks alone. Contact us here.
Melanoma Patients Australia recognises Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples as the Traditional Owners and Custodians of Australia, and we acknowledge, respect and embrace their continued connection to land, waters and community. We pay our respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Elders past, present and emerging.
We recognise, value and celebrate diversity and act in the spirit of inclusion.
