I wasn't at all nervous. All week I had told people I was going to get my eyes laser beamed to the ho-hum response of; 'oh that's nice.' My consultation had been smooth and apparently I was a strong candidate. I scheduled the surgery on the spot.
Sitting in the waiting room with cloth booties on my feet and a hairnet over my long hair, however, I felt the first twinge of nerves. Five minutes earlier I had experienced the uncomfortable feeling of having a doctor draw dots on my eyeballs with a Sharpie. Yes, that is every bit as unnerving as it sounds. There were two men and a couple sitting in the room with me all bootied-up and ready to go. The men were discussing what they had read about the surgery in overly loud voices, while the woman whimpered into her husband's sleeve. He seemed eerily excited about watching the whole process. I lounged in the cushy leather chair, feeling smug in my independence. The nurse had asked if anyone would be coming to hold my hand, but there was no need. I had always been tough.
The whole process was a smooth assembly line. As the people before me were called into the operating room we rotated chairs in the order which we had entered the room. The image of being at the DMV and hearing the call; "Next!" from down the line came to mind. The nurse even stuck a sticker on all of our foreheads, like slapping an inspection seal on a product before it gets boxed up and shipped out.
Images of what lay on the other side of the stainless steel door began to creep into my mind. Perhaps a giant laser, such as Marvin the Martian carries, poised over a table with restraints for my arms and legs. It was slightly disappointing when my number was up to find the laser looked more like a huge computer.
Easing back in the padded chair, the panic began to set in. Thoughts of blindness or getting horribly burned in a freak laser accident caused my heart to throb. My large brown eyes were pried and held open by a wire contraption- very Clockwork Orange. Before we began, the nurse explained to me that there would be a strong burning smell. She wanted to reassure me that my eyeballs would not be burning; it was the machine that produced the smell. I was instructed to stare at a little red light, and it began. There was a lot of clicking from the machine, and I struggled keeping my eyes on the red dot. A nasty burning smell invaded my nose. It reminded of me of the smell when I hold the blow dryer too close to my hair. The machine made a clicking sound and the surgeon kept brushing some sort of clear liquid over my eyeballs. The procedure seemed to drag on and on.
"Look at the red light...keep looking at the light... do not take your eyes off the light..." the doctor's voice was low and soothing in my ear, as I struggled to stay focused on the tiny light surrounded by the hulking machine.
"Your vision is going to be gone for about 30 seconds, but it will come right back," the detached voice murmured in my ear. Before I had processed what he said, the red light faded to complete dark. I took a careful deep breath and sure enough, the red dot slowly pierced the darkness once again. By this time, the urge for this to be over was almost too much for me tolerate. Both eyes were itching and starting to burn. The whole procedure had been going on for far too long, when the voice said, "All right, you are all done. You did really well. I know you were very nervous. Keep your eyes closed until they come to get you."
Before I could protest that I was far too tough to have been nervous, gentle hands led me out into a hallway and carefully sat me in a chair. My whole body seemed to be buzzing and I reached up to my face to find I was wearing plastic sunglasses.
"I know we're supposed to keep our eyes closed, but this is so amazing," a female voice whispered from directly next to me. I attempted to crack open my eyes to see if she was talking to me, but even the dim light in the room was too much, and I squeezed them shut again.
"I can't believe I can see! I thought it would be more painful..." a male replied from somewhere in front of me. The whole crew was there sitting around me. I decided to just wait calmly for a few minutes and then perhaps my burning eyes would allow me to experience the wonder of perfect vision.
Minutes passed as my fellow patients gushed about their clear vision and how quick the operation was, but I remained in the dark. When a voice seemed to be addressing me, I just smiled and nodded generally. No more tough independent girl here...just a scared lonely soul in tacky sunglasses.
Suddenly I felt a touch on my hand. They must have called my boyfriend to come take me home.
"Joe?" I whimpered in a disgustingly pitiful voice.
"Hey Sweetie," he replied, obviously amused, "Do you know there is a sticker on your forehead?"
That did it for me. Tears began to flow out of my burning eyes, and all I could think was that I wanted to go home. My strong will and my stoic composure had crumbled and I clung to my boyfriend's waist like a child.
"This is going to be harder on her than the others," the doctor explained minutes later, back in the normal examining room. "Her eyesight was so poor that the procedure took longer, which means she is in a lot of pain." I felt a fatherly pat on my hand. "Just take her home and let her rest."
The next twenty-four hours are nothing more than a drug induced haze. In my after-surgery kit were pills that kept me asleep for two whole days. The overall recovery took several days of me rolling around in bed moaning, two weeks of hourly eye drops, and having to be seen in public in the dreaded plastic shades.
It was almost ten days after the surgery before I got to have my "wow" moment. My boyfriend's dog was taking me on a walk, when I happened to look up and see the trees. Every leaf was clearly defined, and the result was breathtaking. I stood mesmerized; turning in slow circles with a goofy smile on my face.
At the age of four I had been saddled with my first set of glasses. They were so thick they left an indention on nose that lasted a whole year after I switched to contacts. Walking out of the optometrist's office that first time with my new glasses I was blown away by the trees. Anyone not born with the gift of perfect sight knows exactly what I am talking about. Twenty-plus years of glasses and contacts; of stumbling around in the middle of the night; of holding books an inch from my face were gone, like magic. The full impact struck me for the first time.
My vision has continued to improve over the last few months. The little things make the most difference; like getting up in the middle of the night for some water and strolling to the kitchen without fumbling for my glasses, walking in the rain, or reading in bed until I fall asleep with no itchy contacts or squashed glasses under my pillow.
Every day when I walk out my front door, I see the world with such clarity! Despite the low points, the surgery has turned out to be not just a convenience, but a whole shift in my lifestyle and perspective. I encourage all of you blind folks out there to go in for a consultation and see if it feels right for you.
Source: http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/617253/lasik_eye_surgery_to_see...