The Lasik Experience

There are a few perks to being legally blind, 1) Christmas lights look cooler, 2) the right pair of glasses look super sexy 3) people think you're smarter even if you're a total dumb-dumb. When lasik was invented, the idea was both terrifying and wonderful; like Shark Week.  For people who had dealt with contacts and glasses for any length of time, lasik was a miracle from God.  When I was 24, my mom said she would pay for me to get lasik.  I was thrilled but there was a problem, the procedure was more expensive because my eyes were so bad.  I could only lasik one eye but which one would I choose?  I imagined my eye-mouth saying, "Jesus healed both eyes jerk!"

I chose the right eye.

Before the procedure, they gave each patient very strong pain medication and put us in a small room together wearing white robes and tube socks. As we waited our turn, I noticed that people kept staring at me.  Being drugged, I just assumed they all thought I was an Indian Princess because that's what I told them.  Someone finally spoke up and asked why I had a patch over my left eye with the word "NO" written in red marker.  After reminding them that I was an Indian Princess, I explained that we couldn't afford to get both eyes done.  This brought an on-slot of drug induced concern over my left eye. I let them go on.  I could tell it made my left eye feel better because it stopped twitching for the first time in weeks.

After they let me out of the little room (man I get tired of saying that), I was placed in a chair to begin the procedure.  Although I was drugged, I was conscience.  I was already freaked out because they put a medieval torture devise around my eye that stretched it open like in the movie Minority Report. Perfect time to give some reassurance and comfort but instead, the doctors started talking about their golf game. I then heard someone open a canned beverage.  I began preparing for eminent death. Death by freaking laser beams.  After one doctor started laughing about a "goof" he made on the course, I burst into tears and started screaming at them.  What I said in my head was, "Stop talking about your golf game, I'm totally freaked out".  Considering the state I was in both mentally and physically, what actually occurred probably looked and sounded more like a scene from The Goonies with Chunk in it.

The next thing I knew I was slumped over in a chair, completely alone with a patch covering my right eye waiting for my ride.  This exact scenario may have occurred in the book, The Stranger.

On the car ride home, I laid my head against the window with my eyes closed and waved at the people who drove by. I had a plastic cover that protected my patch and when my sister turned a corner it would hit the window causing me to wake up.  My sister continuously tried to wipe my face because I was covered in drool and gently persuaded me to stop waving because we were now home and I was confusing the dog.

All in all it wasn't a great experience but I can still see perfectly out of my right eye.  A twig-like something grows out of it occasionally but only when I'm around peat moss.  That was ten years ago.  Certainly technology has advanced and no one has to experience medieval eye torture and healing salves consisting of frogs and dirt.  I didn't use frogs & dirt for salves but I still hope you never experience that.

My reasons for picking the right eye are as followed:

1.When running from packs of wild dogs I always looked over my right shoulder.
2. My right eye being dominant made me feel like people would fear me more & I liked that.
3. My left eye droops and if it worsened from the procedure, people might think I was a product of Salvador Dali.
4. My left foot is fatter than my right which is so mean.
5. I assumed I'd marry a Republican and knew he'd be proud that I chose the right.