‘Best thing I ever had done’
‘Wish I’d known about it years ago’
‘I can see clearly again’
So the TV adverts for Laser Eye Corrective Surgery went. Ring this number for a free consultation. After pressure from a friend whose eyes weren’t suitable for the procedure I rang the number, went for an extensive eye examination and was given an appointment to commence for the following week.
Whoa, rewind, not so fast. How come the price was going to be three times that advertised on the TV? Okay, I was never going to get the three years interest free payment scheme; my credit rating was doing the equivalent of a dead yoyo so I had to start saving. A sizable bequest from a deceased aunt, bless her, speeded up the process and the whole amount was paid up front. An appointment was booked and I duly turned up with sunglasses and hotel room booked for one night, to save me having to do the 120 mile round trip for the ‘next day’ check-up. I was given a few routine eye tests then called in to see the surgeon, who was looking at the result of my tests.
I had been wearing contact lenses for years and had developed ‘dry eyes’ for which I was using 'artificial tears' eye drops. A week before the procedure I had to stop wearing the lenses and go back to glasses, so I stopped using the drops. Bad move.
“I’m afraid we can’t operate today” were the surgeon’s opening words. “How long have your lenses been out?”
“A week”
“Mmmm, a month would have been better. I’m afraid you have very dry eyes and this would make recovery.......”
I had zoned out when I heard the words ‘can’t operate today’, so the rest of his words went over my head. Apparently, apart from the dry eyes I also had black spots on my corneas. So, armed with artificial tears, two different lots of steroid drops with a complicated 5 times a day schedule and an appointment for a month later, I went home. No point in staying over now. Besides, I was gutted.
One month and four bottles of drops later I duly presented myself at the opticians after a two and three quarter hour train journey. Well, three and a half because of an oil truck which had broken down on the line ahead. Made a change from sheep or leaves. More eye tests were done by the optometrist; I didn’t even get as far as the surgeon. My eyes were still slightly dry and I had developed ‘sticky eye’ this time; I thought only babies got that. So I was sent away yet again with antibiotic eye drops, plus the basic ones, a recommendation to take flax seed oil tablets and another appointment for a month later. I was getting fed up wasting nearly a day on a train for a 5 minute consult but I had to admit that the quality of their care was excellent.
Another month later and this time my eyes were okay, but the optician recommended I see the surgeon before finalising a date to avoid a repeat of the first visit. He was available the following Friday, a week before Christmas, but by then I had a rotten cold and my eyes were streaming so I canceled. The next available space was the first week of the New Year so up I went in the snow. After another battery of tests I finally got in to see the surgeon.
“Well, this is an amazing improvement” was his opening comment. “I think we can set a date for the procedure!” My grin nearly split my face. “When would you like to come in?”
“Errr whenever; as soon as possible, whenever it’s convenient, I don’t mind!”
He looked at his assistant then back at me. “How about now?”
Result!
At last! I had to wait 45 minutes, time to read and sign the consent papers and send off a shower of text messages before being summoned upstairs to the theatre. For the sake of the squeamish I won’t describe the not so gory details; suffice to say that after 3 minutes on each eye I was back in the dark recovery room where I had to sit for ten minutes with my eyes closed while an assistant read a list of dos and donts. I was told that I would have unclear vision for a while, and once the anesthetic on my eyelids wore off there might be some discomfort. Then a taxi back to the train station with instructions to get a taxi home at the other end.
By the time I was in my seat on the train the discomfort had started. My eyes wanted to close, everyone was sending me texts which I couldn’t read and it was sooo bright, even with my eyes closed. I had my hand over my eyes to cut out the light and slept for some time because when I opened them again my vision was clearing. The closer I got to home the more snow there was; my daughter was phoning me with updates while she was stuck in queues trying to get home. There wasn’t a taxi in sight so I walked home thinking that the surgeon would be having palpitations if he knew!
With more drops and a pair of shaded goggles to wear at night to prevent anything rubbing my eyes while I was asleep, I didn’t know what to do with myself that first evening. Having been told to rest my eyes I didn’t dare put my TV on! I did sneak a peek at my computer though just to let friends on Facebook know that I wasn’t really there. I was supposed to go back the next day for a check up but was snowed in, so I had my next day and weekly check at the same time. Everything was fine and healing well. I was able to read every line of the wall chart across the room then the optician asked if I’d like to see what my eyesight was like before I’d had the correction. He held two round glass lenses in front of my eyes and I was blind; I couldn’t even see the board, let alone read anything on it!
"It is the best thing I’ve ever done."
"I wish I’d done it years ago."
I have to wear reading glasses for close work but that is nothing. It’s just an age thing.
"I can see clearly again."
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