I got LASIK surgery on Sunday morning. Despite what I was told, I did not end up with laser vision afterwards. I feel like suing someone. But I can’t figure out who.
I woke up bright and early, because my appointment was at 8 AM. I called a cab, because I don’t have any friends or family who would possibly give me a ride at that time (note to self: figure out why this is and see what I can do about that).
The cab driver was not helpful in preparing me for the impending surgery. He told me about his son, who went in for eye surgery and ended up with worse vision. He continued, explaining how his son hung out with a bad crowd and got jumped by some dudes, who punched him in the eye. And that’s how it started. The cab driver asked how much my surgery was, then laughed at me. He said Iran had health insurance for all its citizens for only $50 a month. And that eye surgery would only cost $700 there. I didn’t really want to debate him on socialism or the insane amount of medical lawsuits in this country, which drive up healthcare costs in the States. I just wanted to get to the doctor’s office.
I did a lot of waiting around for the first hour. Then I got whisked away and operated on in a flash. They turned around patients every fifteen minutes. I was concerned that they’d get my file mixed up with the others and possibly do the wrong surgery on me. It seemed like an assembly line.
I thought it was cool that the operating room had windows for walls, so that everyone in the waiting room could watch the procedure. It’s kinda weird at first, but it really prepared me for the operation. I got to see them doing the procedure, and I got to see the patients’ reactions.
My whole mental strategy for getting LASIK was just to not think about it. It was like a social event I felt obligated to attend. Just check my daily schedule when I wake up and see what’s in store for the day. Oh, LASIK surgery? Okay, let’s get it over with.
As I lay on the table, I tried to conjure up the peace I had before my first improv performance. That moment in time was more stressful, right? No, not really. I wasn’t getting my eyes cut up by a laser beam. This was more stressful. This was definitely more dangerous. Would I be part of that very small percent of people who had negative results from the surgery? Would my vision be more impaired? Would I lose my vision completely?
Too late. I had already put four thousand dollars into my FLEX spending account, and I couldn’t think of another health-related expense that would cost that much. So, financially speaking, I had to go through with it.
I didn’t have time to worry too much. The procedure was starting.
The first eye was no problem at all. I barely felt discomfort. But my other eye was much more sensitive to the suction ring that held the eye in place. It felt like there were bits of sand that got caught between the machine and my eye. It hurt. And I had much more trouble keeping my focus during the laser cutting. The doctor said there were only 15 seconds left. And I almost gave up. It was an eternity.
After it was done, I could tell my left eye (the second one) was going to look more traumatized and would eventually take more time to heal. During the post-op exam, the doctor took more time looking at that one. I could tell.
I put on my Prada sunglasses and sat outside until my ride came. Jamie picked me up and dropped me off at my condo. I slept for five hours, popped in the eye drops, then continued the DVDs I had been watching on Friday. It was a British show called “Second Sight,” where Clive Owens’ character starts to lose his eyesight. How apropos.
Twenty-four hours later, I feel way better. But I still have to do the eye drops for another couple weeks. I can’t play sports or get my eyes wet for one week. That means no kickball or exercising (now, I at least have an excuse for not doing so).
Some things I learned through all of this…
1) Having LASIK surgery isn’t a walk in the park. And recovery takes at least 24 hours.
2) The iPhone is useless for people who can’t see.
3) Only a girlfriend would be willing to give me a ride to the doctor’s office at 7:30 AM on a Sunday morning. Must get me one of those.
