Using Perspective and Gratitude to Frame Disappointment and Heartbreak

This month’s blog entry was going to be about finding the courage to fix something that has hindered me for a long time, but after yesterday’s doctor visit, that isn’t going to happen. Yesterday, I got a gut punch that I wasn’t expecting.

Until yesterday, I enjoyed a little more than six weeks with normal eyes. It was the first time in 47 years, that my disability didn’t affect my appearance or my vision. Thanks to a surgical procedure that I had in August, I could finally look in the mirror and not see any trace of a disability, and as my primary care physician predicted, people reacted more positively to a guy who could finally look them in the eyes. I almost turned into a narcissist standing in front of the mirror and admiring my two symmetrical eyes, until it all went away.

For most of my 51 years, I’ve lived with droopy eyes, resulting from the disability that I’ve been blessed with since childhood. As opposed to my other maladies, droopy eyes seemed like a minor, cosmetic problem that didn’t merit much concern, so I accepted that I would just have to live with them.  Because my eyelids drooped, I almost always looked tired or intoxicated, even when I wasn’t, and it was difficult to make eye contact with strangers, which occasionally made for awkward social encounters. The latter was also problematic during my public speaking engagements, where eye contact can enhance messages. Still, compared to wobbly legs, a dysfunctional shoulder and a weak arm, the challenges that my eyes presented seemed rather inconsequential, until I felt their impact on my vision.

Initially, I started to feel uncomfortable driving at night. I even hit a deer with my truck on an evening last fall. The collision didn’t damage my truck, but it did awake me to how important vision is to driving. I began to feel that I needed more light than my eyes could gather, in order to feel safe behind the wheel, so I scheduled a surgical consultation. A few weeks after that, I had a procedure to lift both of my eyelids.

Almost everything was great for six weeks. I not only looked better; I could also see better. The only hiccup was a wound that wasn’t healing correctly over my left eye where the anchors helping to elevate my eyelid were located. The corresponding wound over my right eye had almost healed completely, but not much healing had taken place over my left eye. On Sunday morning, that wound erupted and exposed the anchors that were crucial to helping me fully open my left eye. It didn’t hurt, but two thin rubber strings suddenly emerged from my forehead. The surgeon said that he had never seen anything like it.

When I went in for my scheduled follow-up visit on Tuesday, I anticipated that the surgeon might have to tighten the system supporting my left eye, but that wasn’t an option. Since the main components of the system had been exposed, infection was a real risk, so the surgeon opted to remove the system entirely. Immediately, my eyelid drooped, and my vision dimmed.

I was pretty disappointed and heartbroken to lose most of what I had gained with the procedure, and I struggled to regain the positive mindset I have held tightly for most of my life. It all seemed tremendously unfair and cruel.

It took me a while, but I was finally able to summon some perspective that I used to quell my disappointment and heartbreak. While my disappointment seemed like a big deal to me, every day, people go to medical appointments and receive much worse news. Compared to what they’re facing, my problems were small. Additionally, I stacked gratitude on that perspective, and reminded myself to be thankful for what I have and not rueful for what I don’t have. Perspective and gratitude have helped me through challenging times before, and they’ll help me here too.

Note: There might be something we can do to balance my eyes again, but my surgeon says that we need to wait at least three months before exploring those possibilities.