Five weeks ago, I noticed a dark shadow creeping into the corner of my right eye. I didn’t think much of it at first – but when it didn’t go away, I called my doctor. Within minutes of describing my symptoms, they had me come in to be evaluated and I was told I had a torn retina and needed surgery immediately. What followed was ten days of mandatory face-down recovery, no exceptions.
For someone who’s generally active and has a young family with a 5 and 7 year old, that hit hard. I won’t sugarcoat it: the first few days were disorienting and honestly pretty depressing. My world got very small, very fast.
What saved me wasn’t willpower. It was the people around me. My wife stepped up in a way I’ll never forget, holding everything together at home while I recovered at my parents’ place nearby. My parents helped keep me company and made sure I was fed and got to follow-up appointments. Friends checked in. Family showed up. I felt genuinely loved and immensely grateful in a way that’s hard to put into words.
But here’s the thing nobody warned me about: even after a successful surgery, the recovery was anything but linear. The face-down phase ended, and I thought I was turning a corner. Then came weeks of dizziness, fatigue, and escalating pain that required more medication than I was comfortable with. The first two to three weeks were a blur. Progress felt invisible, or worse, like I was going backwards.
And then, gradually, it shifted. The pain faded. Clarity returned. Today I’m driving again, reconnecting with my team and clients, and being more present with my kids than I’ve been in a long time. I feel genuinely fortunate.
Here’s what struck me most: this experience mirrors a good deal of what I talk to clients about in financial planning. Progress is rarely a straight line. There are stretches, sometimes long ones, where the effort is real but the results aren’t visible yet. Where trusting the process feels abstract and patience feels like its own kind of pain. The temptation to panic, change course, or give up is highest precisely when you’re closest to turning a corner.
Recovery taught me that discipline isn’t about feeling confident every day. It’s about staying the course when you don’t. Whether it’s your health, your family, or your financial plan – the fundamentals matter most when things feel hardest.
I’m grateful for the reminder.
