Due to circumstances beyond my control, namely foul weather and sick babies, I had to cancel my Lasik follow-up exam 3x now. I was finally able to make it in last Thursday. It took all of 5 minutes, but I'm pleased to report remarkable results. I've gone from being reasonably visually impaired to down right eagle eyed. My left one clocks in at 20/20. My right: 20/15. With both peepers working together, I now have sharper than 20/20 vision. Amazing, absolutely amazing. I'm more pleased with this procedure than I ever expected to be. Images are crisper, edges are sharper, colors are brighter. Things even taste better! Well, maybe not; but the change in my sight is truly miraculous. If you have considered undergoing the procedure yourself, I wholeheartedly endorse it. If you have poor vision but have not thought about surgery, you should think about it. The enhanced vision alone is worth it. But being free from the burden of eyeglasses is almost as satisfying.
I will tell you one thing though, the surgery itself is a little unnerving. You know, I won't sugar coat it, it was more than that. Even though the procedure is over and done with in a matter of minutes, you're putting your eyesight in the hands of a stranger. A highly skilled & educated, licensed & insured stranger; but a stranger none the less. It did make me feel (somewhat) assured that my stranger had performed this particular operation on over 5000 previous subjects. Until I was laying on the operating table that is. Then it didn't really matter much. All I thought about was my own eyes. Now, they did a great job prepping us before hand. All questions were answered and concerns addressed. They told us what was going to happen, how they were going to do it and what to expect once it was over. Plus, the actual laser part is done by a computer - no shaky Dr. Burke hands to worry about. Except for when they slice your cornea. That's done with a little device that reminded me of something an experienced burglar would use to cut a tiny round hole in the glass box encasing the diamond. This is when things start to get a little blurry. And I do mean that literally.
They must have told me about the next step during the pre-op consult, they had to have, but I really don't remember it. So when I hear the Dr. say to me: "You're now going to go blind for about 30 seconds", I freaked out a little. And I'm certain nobody mentioned what I heard right before they flipped the switch to let the laser do it's job: "You're going to smell something like burning hair. It's not your eye though...it's just how the laser smells". What! I didn't know lasers had an odor? Burning hair would certainly not be the scent I would have chosen either. Lilac, or Vanillaroma maybe; not "Burning Hair". Hell, "Wet Dog" would have been better than burning hair. I'm still not sure if that was a little white lie on the Dr's part or not. I would have thought about it more, except then I went blind and really started to panic. It probably wasn't even 30 seconds either. But close your eyes for 20 and see how much you can think about in that short of time. Now imagine doing that while a metal spreader is forcing your eye lids apart, you're a little loopy on Valium, and a burning hair scented laser is beaming into your eyeball. I had plenty of time to recall all the contraindications that I so easily glanced over in my introductory paperwork. Things like "halos", "ghosts", "induced astigmatism", "over-correction", "epithelium erosion", "post vitreous detachment" and "permanent blindness" were flying past my mind's eye. Which now, in my sightless state, seemed to see clearer than ever; and was telling me I had made a grave mistake. I tried to think of the last time I saw my babies that morning and hoped that image would last with me into visioness old age. 30 seconds is apparently way more time than I need to work myself into almost total hysterics.
I will tell you one thing though, the surgery itself is a little unnerving. You know, I won't sugar coat it, it was more than that. Even though the procedure is over and done with in a matter of minutes, you're putting your eyesight in the hands of a stranger. A highly skilled & educated, licensed & insured stranger; but a stranger none the less. It did make me feel (somewhat) assured that my stranger had performed this particular operation on over 5000 previous subjects. Until I was laying on the operating table that is. Then it didn't really matter much. All I thought about was my own eyes. Now, they did a great job prepping us before hand. All questions were answered and concerns addressed. They told us what was going to happen, how they were going to do it and what to expect once it was over. Plus, the actual laser part is done by a computer - no shaky Dr. Burke hands to worry about. Except for when they slice your cornea. That's done with a little device that reminded me of something an experienced burglar would use to cut a tiny round hole in the glass box encasing the diamond. This is when things start to get a little blurry. And I do mean that literally.They must have told me about the next step during the pre-op consult, they had to have, but I really don't remember it. So when I hear the Dr. say to me: "You're now going to go blind for about 30 seconds", I freaked out a little. And I'm certain nobody mentioned what I heard right before they flipped the switch to let the laser do it's job: "You're going to smell something like burning hair. It's not your eye though...it's just how the laser smells". What! I didn't know lasers had an odor? Burning hair would certainly not be the scent I would have chosen either. Lilac, or Vanillaroma maybe; not "Burning Hair". Hell, "Wet Dog" would have been better than burning hair. I'm still not sure if that was a little white lie on the Dr's part or not. I would have thought about it more, except then I went blind and really started to panic. It probably wasn't even 30 seconds either. But close your eyes for 20 and see how much you can think about in that short of time. Now imagine doing that while a metal spreader is forcing your eye lids apart, you're a little loopy on Valium, and a burning hair scented laser is beaming into your eyeball. I had plenty of time to recall all the contraindications that I so easily glanced over in my introductory paperwork. Things like "halos", "ghosts", "induced astigmatism", "over-correction", "epithelium erosion", "post vitreous detachment" and "permanent blindness" were flying past my mind's eye. Which now, in my sightless state, seemed to see clearer than ever; and was telling me I had made a grave mistake. I tried to think of the last time I saw my babies that morning and hoped that image would last with me into visioness old age. 30 seconds is apparently way more time than I need to work myself into almost total hysterics.
And then it was over. The light of the giant laser machine that hovered above me was starting to shine through again. And when Dr. Stranger flipped my cornea back into place, I could make out objects and forms within seconds. The other eye was not nearly as harrowing. I did hurt for the next 6-8 hours though. Like someone jabbed me in each eye socket with the butt end of a cue stick. Not the "dry eye" or "irritation of a stray eyelash" as the pamphlets alleged. We were both very uncomfortable for most of the day. But that was it. A small price to pay for the gift of sight that I am experiencing today. A little bit of nervousness, a brief bout of absolute terror and an afternoon of swollen eyeballs. By the next Saturday, things felt good and I knew my vision was drastically improved. After a month, I knew I was seeing at least 20/20. I didn't need the follow up to confirm it. They also said I will see my sharpest at 6 months out. I can't imagine things getting even better. I wish I had considered this years ago.
