As some of you know I just had LASIK eye surgery this week. It’s something that I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. A few times in life I’ve found myself in the middle of a discussion where women are talking about how they want to get their tummies tucked or their breasts enlarged, to which I’ve always replied, “I want to be able to see my tummy before I do any tucking!” So my husband has spent the last 6 or so years listening to me yammer on about how joyful I thought lasik would be and finally this Christmas he decided to end all of our suffering and made a consultation appointment for me. I was thrilled!
The first thing I was told about the whole lasik process was that I could no longer wear my contacts. In order for my corneas to be their natural shape I needed to only wear glasses until surgery day. I hate wearing glasses. After about 8 hours of wearing them I find myself wanting to tear them off my face and hurl them into the next county. This is usually after my baby has torn them off my face about 100 times during the day. I knew it would be worth it though.
I went in for a consultation, they said I’d be a great candidate and I made my appointment for the following week.
The morning of surgery rolls around and I’m feeling a bit nervous. On the drive over I remember thinking to myself, hey if this doctor screws up the surgery this freeway could be one of the last things I ever see. I must not have been too worried because my brain moved on to other things and I was fine.
We arrive at the office, wait for a few minutes in the lobby, and I’m called back. Geoff is going to be allowed to watch the surgery on a monitor in another room. A nurse starts explaining the routine to me and I admit I’m feeling a bit nervous. She then asks, “Would you like a valium?”
“Um, I guess,” I reply.
“It’s only 5 mg. Most people say they can’t even feel it,” she states.
Can I have 3 then, I think to myself. I take the valium we wait a little bit longer and I feel nothing.
I am escorted to the operating room and I sit down on the table and a nurse starts swabbing my eye sockets with betadine (or whatever the brown stuff is called). The doctor comes in to talk about the surgery and the whole time he’s talking I’m thinking, sheesh, I bet I look like a kook with all this brown stuff on my face.
I lie down and another nurse asks me if I’m excited to which I reply, “Yes, but I think I’m more nervous.”
“Would you like a blanket (the O.R. is pretty chilly)? She asks.
“Yes please,” I reply.
Then she asks, “Would you like a stuffed puppy or bear to hold on to?”
Oh for the love of Pete! “No, I’m not that nervous!” I reply.
The surgery begins with the doctor and technicians putting a patch on one eye and taping the eyelids open on the other eye. Then they put in some kind of metal device to further hold the eye open. The nurse drops in some anesthesia to numb my eye and we begin. Oh yes, the doctor told me earlier that I have to hold absolutely still. No feet wiggling, no heavy breathing, no nothing.
A suction device is lowered onto my eye. It’s not painful but it’s not pleasant either. The doctor says, “It should be going dark now.” At which point I’m thinking, darkness, what sweet relief. It only lasts for a few seconds and then I can see the laser again. I’m now thinking to myself, hold very still. Hold very, very still. You’re fine, just hold very still. There’s a burning hair smell and then the doctor starts swabbing my eye with a Q-tip like thing. That’s probably the weirdest part of the whole surgery, watching a Q-tip being swabbed back and forth across my eye. The process was then repeated on my other eye.
The nurse told me to go home and sleep for at least 5 hours. It was very hard to tell my family, “Run along, Mummy needs her beauty sleep.” Those 5 hours went much too quickly.
Since the surgery it’s been great. I haven’t been able to see better than my husband in…forever! Now I’ve got the eyes of an eagle. For the next month I’m going to be an eye drop queen and I have to wear these ski goggle things at night for the next week (they’ve usually been thrown across the room by morning) but I think it’s a small price to pay for great vision.