Driving home from my day-after exam this morning I was reading car models off bumpers, the sides of plumbing vans and strip mall store signs. What a world - I guess I didn't realize people wrote so much stuff on things.
Because I already had some significant night halo affect (lights blur into blobs) they recommended a custom computer guided treatment. To do this they needed to take pictures of the inside of my eyeballs. It took awhile because I have naturally small pupils. I also have long eyelashes (that's right ladies) that kept getting in the way. The surgeon's nurse said she might have to come in to help me with my eyelashes. Not sure what that was all about, but I didn't like the sounda it. Thankfully they didn't need to bring in the eyelash muscle. Getting the right pictures did take over an hour though.
The procedure itself took maybe 15 minutes. It is kinda surreal. First, comes the machine that cuts a corneal flap. A big suction cup comes down and latches on to your eyeball. This is not a pleasant sensation. They said you will feel a "little pressure" much like the dentist told me I'd feel a "little pressure" right before he clamped his hand across my forehead and climbed on the side of the chair to pry my wisdom tooth outta my head. As it turns out, even a little pressure is more pressure than you want directly on your eyeball. I wouldn't call it painful really, but it is definitely uncomfortable and freaky. Everything goes dark for a bit but its over quickly.
Then on to the laser. You're looking up at some bright lights including a flashing orange light surrounded by a white ring of light. They clamp your eyelid open which isn't something you want to do for kicks, but isn't as bad as it sounds. The white ring of light distorts as the surgeon moves the flap. It kinda looks like your jumping to lightspeed aboard the Millennium Falcon (and no, ladies, that's not geeky).
The laser makes a loud snapping sound and the gasses stink, I could see how it could panic some people. The surgeon continually talked in a quiet, reassuring voice that reminded me of Bob Ross and his happy little trees; I liked that.
The orange light you're supposed to focus on actually comes into focus as the surgeon wipes off my eye. Whoa, that was cool.
You're instructed to go home and take a nap. They caution you that the eyes will significantly tear up. Boy, they weren't kidding. I was crying like I was watching the end of Field of Dreams (hey, Tough Guy, if you don't shed a tear at the end of that flick you just might be a sociopath).
Apparently I was nearsighted in one eye and far sighted in the other with a pretty significant astigmatism. No wonder I had crazy eyestrain and frequent headaches. Now its 20/20 all the way.
Look out world, peek-a-boo I see you.
3 comments:
I could have gone without hearing about the "slight pressure" part. After hearing that, I'll probably push any thoughts of laser surgery back a few years.
If you can hack 12 dirty centuries in all sorts of conditions you can take about 60 seconds of pressure on your eyeball. Just think about happy little trees.
When Andy was in high school, he came home one day and announced he had heard Bob Ross had died. I asked who that was. He said "the guy on PBS who does the paintings". I noted that seemed like an unusual topic of conversation for the high school crowd. He paused and said "I wonder if they were just joking?". He then decided it wasn't funny enough for that! I'm glad your peepers have seen the light. D. Anglin
Post a Comment