Healing… Or at Least That’s What We’re Calling It
Today’s medical update comes with two exhibits: the eye and the arm.
Let’s start with the eye.
The silicone oil was removed a few days ago, and somehow my eye looks more bruised now than it did on Day 1. Apparently, healing sometimes likes to make things look worse before making them look better.
And the view through that eye?
Previously, I described it as looking through a glass of cloudy liquid.
I’ve decided that description needs an upgrade.
It’s like looking through salad dressing.
Not ranch. Not Thousand Island. I’m thinking vinaigrette—something slightly cloudy where the oil and liquid are separating, and gravity keeps moving everything around.
Basically, my eyeball has become a condiment bottle.
Meanwhile, we also have The Arm.
That’s the rug burn from Friday’s unfortunate disagreement between my prosthetic leg, gravity, and a large Dutch Bros passion fruit soda.
It looks horrible.
It feels… surprisingly fine.
It hardly hurts at all.
Maybe I’m just tough.
Or maybe it’s those steroid eye drops.
I keep putting steroids in my eye four times a day, so surely at some point they travel down to my arm and turn me into the Hulk. That’s how medicine works, right?
So today’s scorecard:
👁️ Eye: Looks worse. Vision by vinaigrette.
💪 Arm: Looks terrible. Barely hurts.
🟢 Hulk transformation: Still pending.
I’ll keep documenting this highly scientific healing process as both my eye and arm figure out what they’re doing.
At this rate, I’m just happy nothing else has started leaking, bleeding, bruising, or falling off.
Recovery continues.
Day 2: My Eye Has Seen Better Days 👁️
Day 2 after having the silicone oil removed from my eye, and this is what we’re working with.
As you can see from the picture, my eye is still very red and irritated. It currently looks like I either had eye surgery or seriously underestimated my opponent in a bar fight.
For the record: eye surgery.
The weirdest part remains the vision. I’m still looking through what feels like a glass of cloudy liquid, complete with a visible line that shifts as gravity does its thing.
It’s like someone installed a tiny carpenter’s level inside my eyeball, except this one is considerably less useful at hanging pictures.
Meanwhile, I’m continuing my eye drops four times a day—antibiotic plus the steroid. I have checked several times, and despite the steroids, I have not turned green, ripped my shirt off, or become the Hulk.
Disappointing.
At night, the eye guard goes back on to protect everything while it heals. Then I head back to the retina surgeon next week to see how things are progressing.
For now?
Red eye. Cloudy vision. Eye drops. Eye guard.
And apparently a front-row seat to watching gravity work from inside my own eyeball.
Day 2 of recovery continues.
The Eye Patch Came Off. That’s When the Fun Began. 👁️
Today, after dialysis, I headed back to the retina surgeon for the follow-up from yesterday’s silicone oil removal.
And the eye patch came off.
That’s where the fun began.
First, my eye looks like it got beat up in a bar fight. It’s bruised, irritated, and yes—it hurts.
But strangely, that isn’t the worst part.
Looking through that eye right now is like looking through a glass filled with cloudy liquid that is slowly trying to level out under gravity.
There’s a line. There’s cloudy stuff. It moves.
Basically, someone installed a snow globe in my eyeball and forgot to put the snow in.
Apparently, this is now part of the healing process.
I’ve also graduated to eye drops four times a day. One is an antibiotic, and the other is a steroid.
So if you see me next week and I’m green, 8 feet tall and screaming “HULK SMASH!”, we’ll know the steroid drops worked a little too well.
For the next week, I’ll continue the drops, keep an eye—literally—on the healing, and wear my eye guard at night so I don’t accidentally mess with it while sleeping.
Then it’s back to the retina surgeon in a week to see how everything is progressing.
Until then, I have dialysis, eye drops, an eye guard, and my own personal cloudy aquarium attached to my face.
Recovery continues.