My LASIK Experience

"Just keep staring at that blinking light." That blinking light is a LASER beam and when it's turned on will surely fry my brain. "Ok, we'll need 22 seconds of correction on the left eye." Oh dear God, don't flinch. Do. Not. Move. "Ok, we're all set. Looks perfect in there. Looks really good."

This was the dialogue between my reassuring ophthalmologist and my panicking brain Thursday around 1pm during my LASIK surgery. You go into it prepared for either the best or the worst: thinking maybe he'll magically snap his fingers and you'll be seeing 20/20, or the opposite, you'll walk into a room and there he'll be sitting, in front of a tray of various sized scalpels and clamps. Both of these are true. It is quick and pain-free (as of my follow-up the next day, I was already seeing 20/15 - must have something to do with my preternaturally smooth corneas), but the 20-odd minutes I was lying on my back, getting a flap cut in my cornea and then pulled back, getting the air bubbles brushed away from said cornea, clamping each eye open in preparation of the laser, holding statue-still while the laser was on - those 20 minutes were amongst the most terrifyingly bizarre of my life.

LASIK stands for laser-assisted in situ keratomileusis and in the simplest terms, involves using a laser to cut a flap of corneal tissue, folding the flap open and using a second laser to reshape the cornea, then repositioning the flap over the cornea so it can readhere and heal itself naturally. Step 3 in this process was a joy, and a giant relief to have my vision back, albeit blurry and disorienting. Step 1 was okay too; I didn't even realize this laser was working until it was done, and the flap opened up, making my vision extremely blurry. The suction cup applied to my eye during this stage was a nice touch too, and left behind a little gift as well, in the form of huge red marks on the whites of my eyes. Apparently these burst blood vessels fade in a few weeks.

Status check: Step 1 complete, corneal flap cut and middle of cornea exposed, causing blurred vision and mild freakout, quickly quelled by the knowledge that any movement will make this situation much worse. And, due to a proliferation of numbing drops, I can't actually feel any of this. Which somehow makes it worse.

They say that sensory deprivation can be a very effective form of torture (and by they I obviously mean George W. Bush) and I, for one, will tell you that they are absolutely right. To most accurately depict this harrowing 7 or 8 minute stretch, I better liveblog it:

Thursday, 12/2/10, 1:19pm: After the first laser is done, I'm feeling pretty good. Geez, that was easy. Didn't even feel it. Minus the weird, blood vessel-popping suction cups on the eyes, piece of cake.

1:20pm: So the flaps were just flipped open. I feel like I'm wearing the glasses that simulate drunkenness in driver's ed class. I would wager, out of all the senses, sight is my favorite, followed closely by taste. I'm less than thrilled by this blurriness.

1:22pm: The table shifted from under one big laser machine to under another big laser machine. Doc says I have some air bubbles on my eye, and uses a small brush-like device to wipe them off. To say this was weird would be an understatement. I could see it happening, but it seemed like from a distance, and obviously I couldn't feel it. At this point I began to wonder what the hell I was doing.

1:24pm: Turns out my right needed 16 seconds of correction by the laser and my slightly worse left eye needed 22 seconds. After taping each lid open, and placing a clamp on the lid as well, apparently as a safeguard to prevent frying of the eyelid, Doc told me to look directly at a blinking orange light, and I did as I was told. In normal situations, in which the specter of pain makes an appearance, my default reaction is to shut my eyes tight, raise my shoulders, and pray. In this situation, it was physically impossible to do the first two, so I relied on prayer and some clinched teeth.

 1:25pm: After what felt like an afternoon at Abu Ghraib, the procedure was over, and the corneal flap was folded back over. Both eyes felt scratchy and dry, and pretty blurry, but on doctor's orders, there was to be no rubbing of the eyes for at least a week, lest I risk disrupting the healing of the flap.

Well, I survived and am now the only non-nerdy glasses wearer in my family. Money well spent, and despite the uneasiness described above, I'm glad I did it. Now, if only they had LASIK surgery for spinal cords...