The Consultation

For several years now, I've been intrigued by the idea of having LASIK surgery. There were many reasons not to do it, including not wanting to have lasers shot into my eyeballs. But the thought would creep up every now and then, and my desire increased in intensity until I decided to do something about it and made an appointment for a consultation.

When I made the appointment, they told me I couldn't wear my contacts for five days prior to it, so we had to schedule it around a time when I could be contact-less. It hasn't been awesome wearing glasses all the time, but I made it the whole five days. One of my coworkers drove me to the appointment, because I'd been warned that they would dilate my eyes, and I wouldn't be able to drive home. She dropped me off, and I went in, not knowing what to expect.

After I signed in, they handed me a little personal DVD player and said, "Watch this video and take the quiz at the end. It's all ready to go--just push play." I confidently sat down, opened the player, and pushed play. Nothing happened. No click. No whirring. No explosion. Nothing. I, like anyone else would've, pushed play again. I got the same result. I pushed all the other buttons I could see, but they were just as useless as the play button. I then picked up the machine and turned it over to look for hidden buttons. There weren't any. Knowing full well that if I were witnessing someone else go through this, I would've labled them "idiot," I finally gave in and went and asked for help. The lady took the machine, flipped the power switch, and handed it back to me. In my defense, she hadn't said anything about a power switch.

I watched the 15-minute video, which is designed to make no one ever want to have LASIK eye surgery ever in their lives. They detail exactly what's involved in the procedure and then list about 35 horrible things that can happen to you afterward. Then they made you sign a consent form that says (I may be paraphrasing, but I think it's pretty close), "I consent to having LASIK eye surgery performed on both eyes. I realize that there is a chance that I might go blind, see spots, hear voices, crave paint chips, or lose control of any or all bodily functions as a result, and I promise not to sue anyone for it. I am not pregnant or nursing, but if any of my future children are born blind because of this surgery, I won't sue anyone for that either."

After that, I sat there for a while listening to this other lady's video (I'd at least turned my volume way down. She was blasting hers for the entire building to hear. Maybe she thinks this surgery is for hearing.), and they finally called me back. The first thing they did was show me all of their different machines that they use for the surgery. This office is pretty state of the art, and a couple of their lasers are the only ones like them in the state. She told me one was the most recently approved by the FDA, and I'm not sure why she thought that would make me feel better. To me, this says, "This one hasn't been used very much, but we're pretty sure we've got the hang of it. Now hold still, and don't blink." There was a kid having his surgery done right then, and he didn't seem to excited about having an audience. I wouldn't either, not least because they make you wear a surgical cap and booties.

The next step was some sort of test that involved looking at something and not blinking. Then we moved to another room and did three more tests like that. I didn't do very well on one of them, because she made me do it again. I nailed it the second time.

After those few tests, she took me into a room that looked like any other eye exam room. When I sat down, a dude carrying a tray of hot chocolate chip cookies came in and offered me one. That's when you know you're in a posh office. The lady then conducted a pretty typical eye exam--"read me the smallest line you can see," etc. When she made me take off my glasses and do it, I said, "I'm pretty sure there's an E on that screen, but only because I've done this before."

Once we were done, she left and told me someone would be in soon. I think we have different definitions of the word "soon." But, it is true that someone did come in. This guy was apparently the "opthamologist," and he didn't seem to do anything much different than what the other lady did, but who am I to judge? Maybe he knew that occasionally, a dude with cookies came in that room. Anyway, I wasn't a huge fan of this guy, because he didn't say hi, or look at me, or ask if I had questions, or anything. It was like I was bothering him by being there. He didn't stay long, but he told me someone would be in in just a few minutes to test the pressure of and dilate my eyes.

I sat there. And sat there. And sat there. People outside kept walking by and looking at me, but no one came in. I texted some people while I waited. I looked at all the equipment. I thought about how hungry I was. Finally, the same guy came in and asked if anyone had come. I said no. He stepped back outside and started fussing at these two girls and said, "She's been waiting ten minutes--fifteen minutes!" I will admit that I am not the best estimator of time. But I am pretty sure I had been waiting MUCH longer than fifteen minutes, based on the time checks I did every time I sent a text message. So, one of the girls came in looking all put out that she'd just gotten yelled out, so she didn't make any small talk either. She just told me to lean my head back, and she put in some eye drops. My eyes didn't feel much different after that--just a little dry around the edges. Then she came over and held up this device that looked kind of like those hammers doctors use to test your reflexes. She held it RIGHT up to my eye, so I instinctively pulled back. She soothingly said, "It's okay..." like I say to my cat when we're on our way to the vet for his shots. She moved it forward and backward super close to my eye but never touched it, like when annoying people go, "I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!" Then she moved to the other eye, and I was fine then. I said, "Now that I know you're not going to touch my eye, I can hold still." She said, "Yeah..." and I said, "Just out of curiousity, what did you drop in my eye?" She said, "That was a numbing solution. I actually did touch your eye." AAAHH! Not only was I startled that I'd just been poked in the eyes several times, I felt dumb for thinking I hadn't been. Hey, at least the drops work.

Finally after that, the real doctor came in. He looked at all the test results and looked into my eyeballs and talked to me about what procedure is best for me. He said, "Would you rather go for safety or comfort?" I was like, "UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH...." He chose for me--we went with safety. He said my procedure will leave me with more discomfort and slower results, but I'll eventually catch up, and it is safer. I can live with that. And it's hundreds of dollars cheaper. I can live with that too.

The last thing to do was talk to the money guy about how much this is all going to cost, and then he sent me off with my day-of-surgery instructions. I made my way downstairs for my roommate to pick me up. My eyes were dilated, so I couldn't see well enough to read, so instead I busied myself by trying to take a picture of my dilated pupils with my camera phone. It's pretty creepy looking. Then I spent the weekend gathering up everything I'm supposed to bring with me on the day of surgery.

Keep your fingers crossed that everything goes well. I'll report back in once I can see again. Til then!