Today, I had corrective eye surgery. Not even 9 hours later and my vision is so clear!!! I am ecstatic and humbled and so grateful.
Wondering what it feels like? Well, my experience was so true to “classic Becky”… here is how it went for me:
I went in super confident and full of my yummy Belgian waffle continental breakfast. When we pulled up to the center, my daughter asked, “is this Laser Town?” Yes, yes this is Laser Town, and now I feel like I am going to an arcade. Yippee!
Once in the operating room, I was given a blanket and a stress ball. At this point, my stomach starts churning. It would not be the first time I would regret eating a hotel waffle before trying something new, but that is a different story.
The doctor put eyelid clamps on and raised my whole body up toward a black tube with lights around the inside.
At this, my first thought was about the opening scene from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, when the chocolate drops are being pressed onto the moving tray.
I said to myself: Weirdo, why I am I thinking about that!? This black tube is not going to squish a chocolate candy onto my eyeball. Darn cinematic influence. Ok, Let’s stay focused…
Doctor asks the assistant: “how’s the nose?” “Nose is perfect,” she replies.
*not sure if they can see me blushing. I love a nose compliment.
Doctor: “Look into the light.”
I think: wait, uh… isn’t that the opposite of what you tell someone who is having a near death experience… Am I having a near death experience!?
*Tummy rumbles uncomfortably*
I think: oh please do not throw up in this operating room! (Again, it wouldn’t be the first time, yay childbirth!).
Doctor: “you will feel pressure and your sight will go dark.”
I mumble out loud: “oh man. Oh man. Ok I don’t know. Ugh.”
*pressure on eye ensues
Me thinking: It’s like Guardians of the Galaxy in here. My eye is open, all is dark and starry and full of glitter. Yep, I must be out of my body right now.
Doctor: “you still with me? “
Me: “I’m feeling kind of woozy and clammy…”
(Understatement of the year. Every sweat gland in my body decided to Kon-Mari the heck out of their little sweat spaces. I. Was. Drenched.)
Groggy me: “oh man, I‘m kinda fainty.”
Doctor preps Left eye for pressure (how they create the flap): “Stay positive. Ok? Think positive thoughts!!”
Me: ok. I am positive I am fainty. Am I even here right now?
—Left Eye Pressure—
My thoughts: well let’s just enjoy this space-time continuum floaty-thing while we can shall we?
Doctor: “STAY WITH ME!”
I’m thinking: don’t interrupt my ethereal experience…
But I decide to shout back at him in my woozy not-all-there voice: “OK! I’M WITH YOU! HERE WE GO, NEXT ROUND.
OK! I’M READY!!
*pretty sure the doctor doesn’t like to be “talked through it” either.
Doctor: “ok, just look at the green light.”
Me, as positive as I can be: “OK! I GOT this!
*Bet they never had a half-conscious cheerleader in that operating room before.
The Laser begins to buzz and all I can think about is how hungry I am for seared chicken. The burning smell of your eyes being corrected should not be appetizing.
The doctor finishes with both eyes, then uses his tools to replace the flap on my eyeball. He takes this super tiny “paint brush” and starts smoothing over the top layer. As he is painting my eye, my body finally begins to relax.
My surgeon is Bob Ross, people. I swear he did the little eye painting part just to make me feel calm again. To my utmost relief though, he didn’t say: “We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents.”
Now that my eyes are perfect, I peel my soaked body off the operating table, seeing the room a hazy blur better than when I walked in. The doctor gives me Matrix glasses so I can feel more like a boss walking out than I was walking in.
And that was that.
I doze off the exhaustion from my out-of-body cheerleading experience on the drive home. I expected a lot of pain when the numbing drops wore off, but it only felt a bit like the sting of chlorine after swimming in a public pool.
We get home and I scarf down one of the cookies that our thoughtful neighbors dropped off, change out of the sweat-ridden clothes that were not sparking joy for anyone, and enjoyed that long dark sleep that can only come while wearing those crazy-sexy sleeping goggles Laser Town gave me (so I don’t accidentally rub my eyes)… or maybe it was the anti-anxiety meds.
My eyesight is even more satisfying this evening after my nap. Ironically, I’m enjoying a delicious seared chicken pasta dish made by my handsome and heroic husband.
And that’s my LASIK experience. It was filled with far more drama than the stories I‘ve heard from others, but again, that is “Classic Becky!”
Despite the drama, I didn’t faint, throw up, wet my pants, or cry. The hardest part was definitely the pressure of getting the flap created and all the regrets of eating a Belgium waffle and not keeping my cool with poor Doctor Bob Ross.
He was gracious in the end, as was the entire staff at TLC Laser Eye Centers.
If this post made you smile would you share it?
And if this post made you want to get LASIK, would you mention my name at a TLC Laser Eye Center (it’s not actually called Laser Town)? They may send me a small thank you gift for recommending them to you. I’m hoping it will be a Bob Ross painting.
With clear sight,
PS: My Word of the Year is, you guessed it, SEE! Click here to see how God is doing corrective surgery on my spiritual eyes these days.