It all started with a
pre-op test. I arrived at the
SNEC lasik centre at 8.30 in the morning and registered with the nurse. It was a very comfortable and plush setting, and i felt glad I did not have to jostle with the long queue which dealt with other eye maladies.
The first test I did was to measure the curvature of my cornea. The nice nurse led me into a darkened room where there was a machine
in front of me with swirly things. It looked like the
teleportation machine from
austin powers but only the size of my face. There a warm beam of light scanned my eye while she held up my eyelid. After doing it several times for each eye, I guess in part because my eyelashes kept blocking the scanner, it was back into the waiting area where I relaxed on the sofa and sipped hot tea.
Next up was the degree and eye pressure test. The degree test was exactly the same as the kind they have in spectacle shops, with a little picture of a road leading to a farm for you to admire. The pressure test, however, was another matter. This machine actually blew air into your eyes to I assume, test the pressure. It took them six readings to get my eye because I kept jerking my head away. Took awhile before I could overcome my instincts.
To get a better reading, the fake glasses thingy was used in the next
room where various lenses were placed
in front of my eye and I had to decide whether the green light or the red one was brighter.
For the last step, a few droplets were placed in my eye which rendered me unable to focus on things. I could not read anything at all and I could actually see better without my glasses. As I had agreed to participate in some strange experiment, I was led upstairs to another machine, and then back down again to do the degree checking while I was
waiting for the doctor to call on me.
By the power vested in him, the doctor now pronounced me fit for
lasik. I may now kiss my glasses goodbye. Not so fast though, because the actual operation itself was to be done four days later.
I awoke that day with a heavy heart, knowing that I would never again see the delightful
star burst that is caused by
astigmatism on
Christmas trees that made them seem all the more beautiful.
Into the waiting room I went, where the nurse put on a gown and
shower cap for me and cleaned my eyes with iodine. There was a man before me, so I could hear
everything the doctor explained twice. When it was my turn however, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen. The whole episode seemed like a crazy nightmare from X-men wolverine, and all that I could visualize was the scene where they were modifying that guy's eyes to be able to shoot laser. Little did I know that I would soon become an inverse cyclops.
The first step was to create a flap in my eye, and this was done with maximal pain and pressure. A ring was pushed into my eye which made a sucking sound when it fit in perfectly and next the full weight of the machine was brought to bear upon my unsuspecting peepers. All I could see was a descending ring of pretty LED lights that just reminded me of UFOs before it connected to my eye, and as the pressure increased, the dancing lights gave way to blackness and lots of pressure. Just when I thought I couldn't hold on a second longer, the doctor said that he was going to turn on the laser, and I actually had to hold on for several seconds more.
After an eternity, the pressure and ring finally lifted and i heaved a sight of relief. The doctor asked me how it was and I burst out into relieved laughter that the pressure was gone. He took that as a cue to begin on my left eye. One more eye, one more ring, one more set of dancing lights, i cursed the
symmetry of the human face.
With bloodshot eyes and blurry vision, I was led outside to rest. The doctor told me that he had to do some markings on my eye. I didn't know what he meant until he whipped out an actual marker. Ever wondered what its like to stick a pen in your eye? Well, lets just say that from then on, I wondered no more.
Back into the theatre, where it was time for the
lasik proper. This time, he used some tape to hold back my eyelids, and a expandable ring to make sure I can't close my eye. Next it was time for a little device that looked like a bubble blower except that it was metal and ringed by three sharp claws. I'm not sure what he used it for but it sure wasn't to comfort me. A squirt of water, dabbing of cotton, and a single hook was produced with a flourish, appearing as if in some horrible nightmare
in front of my helpless eyeball. This hook
proceeded to lift up my corneal flap, which feels way more disgusting than it sounds and the cyclops machine was brought to bear on me.
I could feel a warmth in my eye and smell burning flash as the laser fried my eye. There was nothing much I could do at this point so I just had to bear the brunt of this onslaught. No
allamentium skull to protect me from this optic blast.
The flap was replaced by the evil hook and a sample
ice cream taster stick was used to squeegee my eyeball back together. The lack of pain actually made this step feel pretty good. But then he ripped the tape off and proceeded to swivel my table around...
One more eye, one more time. I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't born a spider.
When the laser was done I couldn't open my eyes at all due to the pain and had trouble focusing on what the nurse was telling me about my
eye drops. All I could think of was the party going on inside my eyeballs. Soon however, the doctor emerged and brought me to a machine to check my eyes.
he carefully scrutinized my right eye, then proceeded to my left. This was when, and my heart skipped a beat, he did a double take. Lets
refloat your left cornea, seems that there was a piece of lint stuck inside or something.
Back into the room and the bed of doom. Back on went the tape, and the eye-opening experience was once revisited upon my little lefty as it whined and complained that it wasn't getting fair treatment. I explained that it was a victim of circumstances and that it would be over quickly. It responded by threatening to jump out of its socket and impale itself upon the hook. I retaliated by reminding it that I had control of my eye muscles, not it and
bludgeoned it into stubborn cooperation. Without any cards left to play, it fell into line and suffered through another episode of hooking and squeegeeing.
Thankfully it was all nice and good this time, and I left the place looking like cyclops and with my eyes smarting terribly. I spent the rest of the day in bed, and it took a good 6 hours before the pain got bearable enough for me to look about normally.
They say that hindsight is always 6/6, and that the future is blurry. I may not be able to predict the future, but at lest now I have one more scary story to freak my nephew out.
And hey, don't be scared off
lasik either, a day of pain for a lifetime of not-so pain.
