LASIK surgery is like child birth. When you talk to people about it when you are still in the planning stages everyone says how great it is. It’s the best thing they have ever done. It’s only after you have the procedure that people are forth coming.
I showed up on the morning of my surgery knowing that I was going through with it, but not convinced that I wanted to. I walked into the surgery room. It was all framed in glass so people could watch the procedure being performed. Freaks. The doctor put numbing drops in my eyes and then walked me over to what looked like a fancy recliner. I climbed in thinking that I needed more time. There’s no way my eyeballs were numb enough yet. The doctor tells me that I won’t feel anything but the pressure. He tapes a patch over my left eye. Then he straps my right eyelids into a “clock work orange” contraption to hold them open. Then places what looks like a very small juice glass on my eyeball. I keep reminding myself that I’ve had two kids so I can do this. He tells me there will be a bright light and then everything will go black for a second. Which is really freaky because my eye is OPEN? This is the part where they are cutting a flap off the lens. I’m trying not to think about what they are doing, but it’s really hard to go to your happy place with you eye open. Then he does the same thing to the other eye. Only, they have to try twice to get the flap cut all of the way. And I have forgotten to breathe. And I’m pretty sure that they have traded up to a bigger juice glass for my left eye. And I kinda wanted to scream, which is impossible because of the breath holding. “ok done with this part”, I hear the nurse say.
They have me get up and walk across the room to another recliner. I lay back. Right eye first again. They patch my left eye. They tape my eyelashes down and put the “clock work orange” clamp back on my eye. The doctor puts drops in my eye which make everything go Jackson Pollock. Like an acid trip….so I’ve heard. Then the laser. Nobody tells you to breathe through your mouth. They really should because I’m suddenly smelling burning eyeball. And I have to switch to mouth breathing which is more difficult than I ever remember it being. Then the doctor slides the lens flap back over. I’m not sure where he stuck it, but it was stashed somewhere in my eye. He paints glue or something so the lens sticks where it should. He does the same thing to the left eye. And voila, I can see. I get a cool pair of shades and am sent home with directions to get into bed for a 3 hour nap.
Based on what everyone has told me I think I’m going to go home and nap. Wake up and go to
the goose’s choral concert. As we get further from the doctor’s office, my ability to talk wanes. It’s bright and I can’t keep my eyes open. When I get home I get into bed. My eyes are tearing and the streams are filling up my ears. It feels like someone has squirted hand soap into my eyes. I take Tylenol PM and fall asleep. I wake up 4 hours later and now it feels like I have napalm in my eyes. Stubby hubs hunk has to help me put the eye drops in because I use all my effort to focus on keeping my eyes open. I apologize to the goose, take more Tylenol PM, and go back to bed.
The next day I drive myself to my post op. with TWO pairs of sunglasses on. I get the all clear. As long as I keep my sunglasses on I can see. It’s great! I can see! I would definitely recommend it. It is the best thing…..ever.
As I sit here typing this I am wearing my sunglasses. It’s 7am and I need sunglasses. I figure, it’s suitable for a diva.