Blindness & Brotherhood: The Dean Patterson Story
Dean doesn’t call himself a hero. In fact, he laughs at the idea. “Do I think of myself as a hero? Not even close,” he said. “If a hero is made, I pray I’m on that journey.” But as we dug deeper, it became clear—this man has walked through fire.
Dean’s story is one of unexpected suffering, and the slow, unrelenting work of God building a man into someone stronger, humbler, and more courageous than he ever planned to be.
This is the story of a man who lost his eyesight—and with it, his career and identity—but gained something greater: a mission to serve, and a Brotherhood that saved his life.
When the Lights Went Out: Losing Sight, Finding Soul.
Dean was in midlife, mid-career, and mid-fatherhood when everything changed. “I learned at middle age that I’d be losing my eyesight,” he told me. “Mid-career, mid-life, with three kids, losing my eyesight to a very rare medical condition.”
He had a master’s degree. A thriving career in corporate leadership. He’d invested heavily in a future built on achievement and vision—literally and metaphorically. “When it’s all about you and it gets taken away, it feels like it’s all about you,” he admitted. “And you feel like a victim.”
At first, he numbed the pain. “I wasn’t sleeping easily... curling up in my little chair and entertaining myself, trying to just get away from my life rather than embrace it.” But then came the wake-up call: three kids watching how Dad would respond to this crisis.
Dean made a vow with his wife: he would not live like a victim. “She’s been amazing through the whole thing,” he said. “I took strength from our marriage... I had to find some role models who were visually impaired. I had to find some other heroes.”
Grit in the Dark: Mentors, Midlife, and the Power of Brotherhood.
That search led Dean to people like Tom, a blind entrepreneur and radio guy who had started his own cab company just because he was tired of waiting around for rides. “He had less eyesight than I may ever have,” Dean said. “He was incredible. A friend. A role model.”
But brotherhood came in many forms. Dean joined a charismatic Catholic parish and eventually, a men’s group that’s lasted nearly 30 years. “We meet every Friday morning,” he said. “Some of these guys were further along in their faith. They pulled me through. We grew together.”
Eventually, this Brotherhood would become his bedrock. When he finally told his friends, “Guys, I’m about to lose my eyesight,” the response was powerful. “You know how kind they’ve been to me?” he said, voice heavy with emotion. “It’s been amazing.”
And out of that Brotherhood came purpose. “We’re not made to do this alone,” Dean said. “Even if we’re married and have big families around us, we can feel completely alone. I’ve experienced that too.”
Inside the Walls: What Prison Ministry Taught Him About Freedom.
One of the most unexpected chapters in Dean’s life began when someone at his parish wouldn’t stop asking: “Have you thought about prison ministry?”
“I resisted for two years,” he admitted. “Every time I saw her, I’d duck out, grab coffee, avoid the question. I thought, ‘What’s a suburban guy like me gonna offer men in prison?’”
But he finally said yes. “And it was profound,” Dean said. “The Holy Spirit was moving. These men—they’re not so different. They want Brotherhood. They want to be seen. They want to be known.”
One man stood out: convicted of a double murder, burned in a failed attempt to take his own life, and sentenced to decades in prison. “Now he’s earned multiple degrees, become a mentor, and the judge who sentenced him is helping get him out to do ministry,” Dean shared. “Crazy story. Beautiful redemption.”
What Dean learned inside those walls changed him. “These guys—they have no idea what they’ve done for me,” he said. “It could’ve been me. Wrong choices, wrong time... We all want the same things. To be known. To be loved. To find God.”
The Long Game: Faithfulness Over Flash.
Dean’s life hasn’t been a highlight reel of big wins. “We’re not here to solve the loneliness crisis,” he said. “But we can offer something real. Brotherhood.”
He’s now part of the team at Heroic Men, building networks for men across the country. “Every 13 minutes, we lose a man to suicide,” he said quietly. “We’re not a suicide prevention program. But we are a Brotherhood.”
His advice to men? Start small. “Sometimes it just takes one guy asking another, ‘Hey, want to come to Bible study?’ Like that jailer did. Maybe you ask six times. Maybe it takes ten years. God’s got time.”
And as for becoming a hero? “It’s not about big, flashy deeds,” Dean said. “It’s about showing up. Every day. Giving God your five loaves and two fish. And somehow, He makes a banquet out of it.”
“I’m okay being decreased so that He can increase.” That’s how Dean summed up his journey.
He lost his sight—but gained a new mission. He resisted the call—but stepped up when the moment came. He walked into prison—but found freedom in serving others.