Laser Surgery on My Eyes? What's the Worst that Could Happen?

Eye Win

I'm having eye surgery. LASIK to be precise. It is a fitting end for me. In my childhood I did the same thing to hundreds of bugs. Why should my fate be any different? Of course, the tools I used were far cruder. I wielded a magnifying glass to capture the rays of the sun, but the results were the same — a laser frying flesh.

The only difference is that I had volunteered; no, I had paid to go through this procedure. My victims had never been so willing or so generous. The spider. The ant. The stubborn bug — they would all be laughing at me now as I lie prone with my eyelids stretched open, staring up at the laser. It's payback time.

This is to be the final assault on my eyes in an effort to coerce them into seeing correctly. Nothing else I have tried has ever worked. Believe me, I have tried. The orthokeratomy lenses I wore for a year during college caused me untold agony as they attempted to force my eyeballs into the proper shape. Then, there was the book that I read with techniques to achieve better vision. One of those techniques was to stare directly at the sun.

Twenty years ago, Dr. Mary had been my last hope to correct my vision before I went to my airline interviews. Wearing her trifocals, Dr. Mary looked to be on the verge of blindness or death herself. Her frail, shriveled body seemed several sizes too small for her eyes as they appeared bulging behind the glasses that were perched on her diminutive nose. Dr. Mary was convinced that if I used her eye exercise machines and paid her enough money, my eyes would eventually see 20/20 and she would be able to go on a vacation to Tahiti. She too was wrong (except about Tahiti), but I didn't figure that out until I had transferred roughly half of my children's inheritance to her. LASIK is my final hope.

The laser is about to do its work. First, it cuts a flap out of the eye which the doctor then peels back. What medieval torture could be more painful than that? It's as though I'm a prisoner of war and my captors are trying out their latest torture techniques on me. All I can think is: What if the doctor decides to walk out or drops dead or the power goes out with my eye flaps still hanging there? What if the laser malfunctions and fries a smoking hole right through my head? It's of no comfort that the doctors have told me to “hold my eye still and stare at the light.” Does that mean that if I lose focus for a nanosecond, my eye's a goner? With the flap out of the way, the laser is free to zap my eye for a few seconds ridding it of the vile cells that have caused my vision to be substandard for the past 35 years. It's hard to believe that all of the effort, all of the expense and all of the agony I've endured could be made right in a matter of moments.

For the longest time, I couldn't bring myself to have laser eye surgery. This reluctance was mainly because I enjoy seeing and didn't want to jeopardize that simple pleasure. I also like my job as an airline pilot, which might also be lost if I went blind. To the best of my knowledge, the Braille cockpit hasn't been certified yet.

My entire perspective changed during a flight when a fellow pilot told me that he was considering laser surgery. I checked out some links on the subject that he sent me. As it turned out, no one had ever gone blind from LASIK surgery. I decided it was time to step off of the cliff. If I wouldn't do it now, when would I do it?

I chose TLC to do my surgery. There was a tiny voice in the back of my head trying to convince me to go somewhere else. The voice told me I could save a few dollars. Since I am fairly cheap by nature, the voice had my ear for a second, but only for a second. There was no way I was going to do one of those $499 per eye deals complete with a backup seeing eye dog. These were my eyes! Shortcuts and “cheap” were out of the question.

Sitting down for my consultation at TLC, I sensed that they thought that I might be the most paranoid client they had ever treated. I had a few questions for them:

“Maybe I should do only one eye?”

“How can you possibly think this will work?
You're not cutting a piece of wood here, you
know? You can’t promise my eyes won't heal
in some weird way, can you?”

“What if you get my eyes mixed up and
zap the left when you should have zapped the
right?”

“Any recommended sleeping positions?
I don’t want to squish my eyes before
the operation.”

“Should I change my diet?”

“What's the worst thing that can happen?”

The last question didn't need to be asked. The answer could be found in the disclaimer I would have to sign before the surgery. Look at what a LASIK patient is up against:

“Your vision my not be as sharp as can be
achieved with glasses or contacts.”

“Your night vision might be degraded.”

“You could go blind.”

“You could die.”

“Death” might be considered a fairly significant side effect. “Blindness” wasn’t too comforting either. TLC had all of their bases covered. If they wanted to, they could probably lop off my arms off during the procedure and I would have no legal recourse. As with most important things in life, I decided to do all I could from my end to ensure the best outcome possible. I would take comfort in the fact that if I ended up with poor vision or went blind or died; it wasn't going to be my fault.

My contact lenses came out immediately. I didn't want my eyeballs distorted in any way, not for the evaluation nor for the operation. Keeping my eyeballs distortion free also meant that I had to give up tummy sleeping. Here was a real sacrifice. I'm a connoisseur of comfort and tummy sleeping is the way to go. Sleeping on my back for a month was going to be horrible.

Junk food was the next to go. I began eating like a diabetic. The theory is that diabetics have a hard time healing. I didn't want a spike in my blood sugar to cause my eyes to heal in some way that would give me “fly eyes” where each eye produces dozens of duplicate images. Which was worse, no tummy sleep or no chocolate? It’s hard to say, but I gave up both. Was I paranoid or just taking prudent precautions?

As I stare up at the laser no amount of preparation seems adequate. This is it. No turning back. My eye flaps are cut and pulled aside. I'm staring at the light like my life depends on it, which it might according to that disclaimer I signed. The laser begins to flash. Then, I smell the familiar smell – the same one I used to experience as I fried an ant on the sidewalk with my magnifying glass. The flesh of my eye is being melted away. A few moments later it's over. The flaps are smoothed back onto my eyes. Everything is foggy. I'm given a pair of dark sunglasses, some medication and immediately sent home for sleep—on my back, of course.

Several hours later, I wake up. It's early evening. Everything is still a bit foggy. I hurry downstairs and go outside to sit on the porch to try out my new eyes.

It's as though I have been resurrected! My imperfect body has been replaced by a perfect one. I can see everything across the street. House numbers. License plates. It's a miracle.

When I visit TLC for a checkup one of the doctors tells me my eyesight will get even better. She is right. The fogginess disappears. There are no night vision problems. I see better than I ever did with glasses or contacts. In fact, my eyes test out as perfect. Nothing could be done to improve them. As an added bonus, I didn't even die!

Several months later I come back for another checkup. As I enter the office the laser repairman is leaving. Repairman? Just what indicates that the laser isn't working right? I don't see any body bags or anyone leaving with a cane or seeing-eye dog. It's probably nothing their latest patients should worry about, but I'm glad that I've already received my new vision. In fact, there is no question I would do the procedure again if I had too. I went from the most skeptical to the most satisfied customer they have ever had. The struggle against my eyes ends in victory.

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My first two books Don't Look Before You Leap and This is NOT a Serious Book full of true, humorous experiences are available at Amazon as digital and paperback.