Welcome to Running: A FEVER. My name is Michael Davis, and this is a podcast about fitness, diet, and medicine. My goal is to live a long, healthy, happy, active life right up to the very end. Basically, it’s about livin’ long and lovin’ life.

I haven’t been recording much lately because I’ve been sick and coughing my head off. But today, I was ordered to record an episode by my effective boss at Padua Podcast Network, Tom Rohr. And I suppose it was a good idea, given my current condition.

If you’re watching on YouTube, you’re in for a treat today—you get to see me at my ugliest in living 4K video. My right eye is black and swollen. I know what you’re thinking: Did I lose a fight? Am I being abused? Who would do this to me? I could say something like, “You should see the other guy.” But in fact, the other guy is my doctor, and yes, he did this on purpose—with my full consent. I had surgery yesterday on my eyelid, and this is how you look after someone cuts part of your eyelid off. So, why would I go through something like that?

I suffer from a condition called ptosis (spelled P-T-O-S-I-S), which means my right eyelid droops over my eye when in a relaxed, normal state. This had the same effect as closing or covering my right eye, causing loss of peripheral vision and depth perception. It’s been progressing for a long time.

My left eye has always been dominant, especially since I also have keratoconus in my right eye to a greater extent than in my left. This condition causes the cornea to become misshapen, distorting my vision. I wear contacts specifically designed for keratoconus. They’re filled with saline, which smooths the cornea and rounds out my vision, making it normal. There’s also an additional correction involved, bringing my vision to 20/20. Unfortunately, keratoconus cannot be corrected with eyeglasses. I often worry that someday I may not have the dexterity for the complex procedures required to insert and remove these contacts. Vision is, obviously, extremely important to life.

One problem with the contacts, according to the consulting ophthalmologist who performed my surgery, is that the type I use—scleral lenses—can stretch the eyelid tendons and muscles, resulting in ptosis. Coincidentally, my father had a similar condition and eventually underwent the same type of surgery. He didn’t wear contacts, though, so his case must have had a different cause.

As I mentioned, the condition has gradually worsened. When I first brought it up with my regular ophthalmologist—whose identity I don’t recall due to frequent staff changes—after a brief examination, they determined that any correction at that point would be cosmetic. The obstruction wasn’t significant enough, and the surgery wouldn’t be covered by my insurance or the VA, where I receive my care. The VA is the U.S. Veterans Administration Healthcare System, which provides healthcare to military veterans in the United States, of which I am one.

A couple of weeks ago, I brought it up again and was referred to a surgeon who has a private practice but serves the VA monthly. Believe it or not, some ophthalmologists specialize exclusively in eyelid surgery—and they’re surprisingly common.
After a brief consultation, I was diagnosed and scheduled for surgery, which I had just a week later—yesterday. It was initially scheduled for the afternoon, but a cancellation allowed me to come in that morning, which was a welcome change since I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything until after the procedure.

Despite being a minor surgery without general anesthesia, they treated it with the same seriousness as any other operation. I had to have a driver present the entire time. I arrived two hours early, though most of that time was spent waiting. I was asked the same questions multiple times by different staff members to ensure they had the right patient, the correct procedure, and the correct eyelid. That makes sense, and I wasn’t bothered by it. I had to remove all my clothes except my underwear and change into a hospital gown.

As the procedure time approached, the doctor came in and had me sign a consent form on a laptop. Then he marked my eyelid with a pen—presumably where he planned to make the incision. He told me, “Ice and ointment,” though I received more detailed post-op instructions later.

I didn’t receive any medication until I was in the operating room. Though I was awake the entire time and remember hearing music and conversation, I didn’t pay much attention to what was happening to my eye, so the drugs worked. I heard them mention three different medications. The surgery took about twenty minutes.

I felt pretty standard afterward, except my eye felt strange when I closed it. It was already swollen, though I didn’t notice it much at first. Once the drugs wore off, it was painful. I took some aspirin. Eventually, the pain subsided, leaving only mild discomfort. I’m icing it for ten minutes every hour I’m awake and applying ointment three times a day. I’m expected to be mostly recovered within ten days, with full recovery in three months. I’m scheduled to have the sutures removed exactly one week after surgery—next Friday.
So, it remains to be seen whether the procedure helps my ptosis, and I’ll be sure to let you know. For now, enjoy the view. Unfortunately, the other guy actually looks a lot better.

Remember: If you’ve got the fever, keep it burning. And if you don’t—catch the fever! I’ll see you next time, with BOTH eyes, on Running: A FEVER.