Just Call Me Hawkeye

I neglected to mention that during my blog sabbatical this summer, I ended up having LASIK surgery, after all. It's been almost three months now and I've officially changed the name on my drivers' license to, "Eagle Eyes Rama."

The surgery itself is nothing to be afraid of, as long as you're not one of those people who starts bustin' out the ninja moves if someone comes near your eyes. For one thing, they give you a val1um right before the procedure begins and what this does is cause you to chuckle while the surgeon marks up your eyeballs with a magic marker.

I found that I was actually quite relaxed - giddy, even - while the operation was taking place. I only freaked out once when the technician kept telling me to focus on the green light, but I couldn't see it because the surgeon was still adjusting things. I started to become a little frantic, like, "I CAN'T SEE THE GREEN LIGHT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?" and then the technician got in trouble with the surgeon for stressing me out.

You experience a lot of strange sensations (you might also smell something burning) during the surgery, but it doesn't actually hurt. The procedure I had involves cutting a flap in the cornea and re-shaping the surface underneath. The worst part was that, after they cut my "flaps," I had to lie down and rest in the next room over for a few minutes before the second part of the procedure began. While I was "resting," my numbing drops began to wear off and I started to experience some "discomfort," as they like to say in the biz. At first I thought I could master the discomfort, but when I realized I could not, I stumbled, batlike, into the hallway in search of relief and had to be escorted back into my holding cell.

The rest of it was pretty uneventful and I actually don't even remember all the details anymore. When it was all over, I could already tell that my vision had improved, albeit through a brilliant haze. I had to wear a horrendous pair of wraparound safety goggles for the next twenty-four hours and then every night for a week, which thrilled J-dog and V-meister to no end.

As I'd feared, my eyes were very dry for the first month or so after the surgery and not a day went by when I didn't say to the P-Dawg, "P-Dawg, I knew this would happen. Now I'll have to wear goggles and live in a climate controlled humidity chamber for the rest of my life." And each time, the P-Dawg pretended as though no one had spoken.

So even though my eyes are still drier than they were before the surgery, there are very few days when I am uncomfortable because of them and it's still better than the worst bad contacts day. All told, I'm very glad I went through with it. The only drawback is that I have a lot more crows feet than I'd realized and I found out my shower is pretty gross. But on the flip side, I could easily, with valium, pilot a stealth bomber or build myself a nest out of shiny objects.


P.S. I realize I'm jumping the gun a little with my pretty new autumn themed Queen Elizabeth/Disney Princess banner, but I couldn't stand looking at retro mom running away from her kids for one more day.