I haven’t blogged in a while.
Mostly, honesty, because I’ve been crankypants and can’t see the computer screen worth a flip in the evenings unless I zoom in enough that you’d think an 80-year-old owned this MacBook.
This would be because I had LASIK. Well not actually LASIK, but some kind of vision correction surgery with lasers that has a long name that no one uses because of it’s unnecessarily long name and everyone still calls it LASIK.
You should know what this whole dealio is before you go get yourself some laser vision. So I shall tell you of course.
They tell you to stop wearing contacts about 3 weeks before surgery (for some people, this is no biggie, for me, I wanted to shoot myself in the face when wallballs came up on the WOD at CrossFit because I always love a good chance to break my nose while I’m working out). They give you a list of prescriptions you’ll need. You bring them to the surgery with you.
Day of surgery:
Sweaty palms, but excited at the prospect of being able to get out of burning building with nothing but your own God-given body. Or better yet, how I sometimes think that if I was kidnapped in the middle of the night and my kidnapper didn’t happen to grab my glasses, I would have no ability to escape or I.D. my kidnapper later on.
Take a valium. Sign paperwork. Take another valium. Feel drunk and require assistance to all seating arrangements.
Get taken back to a very small room, lay down in a chair, and get a blanket. I did really appreciate the blanket, thanks Lisa. Get your eyeballs numbed with some little drops.
This is where the fun begins. Keep in mind you can see everything going on right in front of ya.
Get your eyelid taped up so high it’s definitely making contact with your eyebrow. Then an eyelash curler is brought out, except instead of curling your eyelashes, they somehow clamp the dang thing around your eyeball. Don’t ask me how, peripheral vision does not exist on the side of your actual eyeball. Then they bring out the little tool that Randy my pedicure man uses on my nails that buffs them smooth. Except I bet you can guess that doc didn’t give me a pedi. HE BUFFED MY EYE JELLY OFF! After they buff of all of the clear part of your eye they use a little scalpel to scoop out your eye jelly. Don’t forget, I can still see, y’all. And then I stared at a red blinking light that sounded like a laser hair removal machine (I know this because I once had a lady beard, people. no shame.) for 36 seconds. That’s a long time when you have an eyelash curler clamped around your buffed-down eyeball.
Then they did again. Because crap dang it, we have two eyes.
The next exciting part of my LASIK story will have to continue next time, because my eye muscles give up after 10pm. And it’s 11:20pm, which means I’m practically blind at this point.
I probably should’ve prefaced this story with a “eat your lunch before reading this.” Oh well.