By Deborah Salomon

Feature Writer

Hal Franklin sees the Relay for Life from two ­perspectives: He is blind. And he battles non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, cancer of the body’s disease-fighting lymphatic system.

Franklin, 59, will walk the Survivor’s Lap with a white cane, a positive attitude and his wife, Debbie, by his side.

This attitude results from reality and acceptance:

“If you have to have cancer, lymphoma is one of the better kinds. It’s treatable.

“Ever since cancer, blindness isn’t such a big deal.

“I’ve lost my sight but I’ve gained insight; I look at things for what they are.

“I’ve got my wife, my two dogs, who really love me, my family and my church family. I count those blessings.”

Hal, a Hoffman resident, worked with his hands as an equipment mechanic and vehicle maintenance supervisor for Richmond County. He likes to tinker with things, fix them.

His vision began to fade in 1990, a result of rod-cone dystrophy. By 1991 he could no longer drive. An arrangement was made for Debbie’s employment at Richmond County Solid Waste.

Hal still perceives some light, shadows and shapes. He tinkers with his lawn tractors by touch and walks his dogs over familiar terrain. He has taken Amtrak alone to New York, to visit one of their sons. Surprisingly, he found Manhattan “a very friendly place for blind people.”

Then, in 2004, when he was otherwise feeling great, a lump appeared in his neck. After a blood test, Hal’s doctor sent him to an oncologist.

“When they said ‘oncologist’ I felt pure fear,” Debbie recalls. Results from the biopsy took two weeks — “the scariest two weeks we ever faced.”

At that time, treatment was not deemed necessary.

Four years passed before Hal began having severe night sweats. A nodule popped out over his eye; his face became swollen. Dr. Ellen Willard, of FirstHealth Cancer Center, took over the case.

“I trusted her,” Hal says. He proved allergic to the first medication, progressed to chemotherapy, but the cancer kept ­recurring. “Then Dr. Willard took out the big guns.”

Debbie sat with him during nine-hour infusions, which left him terribly weak, depressed — and why not? A physically fit, active man who, after adjusting to diminished sight, now must deal with cancer.

They deal with it together.

While Debbie works, Hal keeps the house in order.

“There’s not much worth watching on TV,” he says, except the news and “Jeopardy!” which requires quick thinking, not vision. They both like mysteries and police stories, which they listen to on disc. Hal learned Braille after his cancer diagnosis. Church plays a big part in their lives. Their pastor, Nancy Willard, sat and prayed with Hal and Debbie during chemotherapy.

“Cancer made our marriage stronger,” Debbie says. “We’ve laughed and we’ve cried.”

“We lean on each other,” Hal continues. When Debbie broke her wrist, Hal rose from a sick bed to care for her, although their son offered to come home.

Tina Gibbs, associate director of FirstHealth Hospice House, has worked with cancer patients for 17 years.

“While cancer is a hard diagnosis, it tends to bring people closer together,” she says. However, she adds, a relationship dysfunction may resurface in new, stressful circumstances.

Hal tries not to look back, only forward.

“I get the blues thinking about cutting trees, working in the yard, taking my sons fishing. But you can’t dwell on that.”

Instead, Hal dwells on what is possible, like walking — no, striding — many laps at the Relay for Life because he loves being outdoors. And reassuring patients in the chemo lab.

“They’re like deer in the headlights when they come in. I can’t see their faces but I can tell by their actions that they are scared.”

Hal is uncertain whether his lymphoma is in remission.

“But you’ve got to go on, to live,” he says. “You can’t just sit around waiting to die.”

Especially when you have a new life to live for. Debbie and Hal are expecting their first grandchild in November.

Contact Deborah Salomon at debsalomon@ nc.rr.com.