Through the Looking Glass- Part Two

Tickling the Ivories…and my Sinuses?
I decided to go ahead and have Lasik surgery. I had been thinking about it for years, but other things kept coming up. I had my eye exam last week and then the surgery on Friday. Once I went through the exams, I was finally able to see the doctor. He seemed like a decent sort of guy. He reminded me of the actor who plays the scary preacher from the HBO series Carnivale. This guy wasn’t scary though. So, he is looking over my charts and he says to me that I am an excellent candidate for the surgery and that he thought I would be able to see clearly without glasses or contacts. Without missing a beat I asked him “But will I ever play the piano?” He laughed (although I’m pretty sure it was fake) and said he wasn’t going to fall for that one. He then started to explain the procedure to me. He said that on the day of the surgery they would offer me a Benadryl to help me relax. A Benadryl? I must have had a puzzled look on my face because he stopped talking and asked me if I had a question. So I asked him if I heard him correctly about the Benadryl. He said yes and said it was a mild sedative to help me relax. And I said “And to relieve my seasonal allergies?” Honestly, I wasn’t trying to be a smartass, but it seemed like a weird thing to offer as a sedative.

Argh! Pirates don’t have Allergies!
Now I am not the squeamish sort. I was telling my Dad just the other day that during the surgery, I was thinking about him and Mom and how neither of them are squeamish when it comes to medical stuff and neither of them are likely to panic in an emergency. I think that is probably one of the best things they could have passed on to us kids. I was reminded of the time when I was young and was roller-skating and tripped over some kid and bust my chin open. I had to go and get stitches. (So in addition to the eye patch, I also had a beard. Honestly, all I was missing was a parrot and a peg leg.) Anyway, I remember the doctor telling my mother to come and hold me down while he put the stitches in. My mother, without moving from her chair, simply said, “she isn’t going to move.” And I didn’t. I remember gripping the bottom of my shorts with both hands while it was going on, but by God, I didn’t move a muscle. I bring this up because prior to surgery, the nurse again offered me a Benadryl. After turning it down yet again, they asked if I was sure. I assured them that unless they were growing ragweed in the OR or had a serious mold problem, I would be fine. So, no sedative.

The procedure itself was painless. It was freaky as hell, but painless. The eye clamp was the worst part. It made me think of A Clockwork Orange. (I still can’t watch that movie.) I could feel my adrenaline pulsing into every pore in my body, but I didn’t move a muscle. Have you ever felt that? When you know your adrenaline has just spiked and then you start to come down from it? It is the weirdest feeling. So after a couple of minutes, they put some sunglasses on me, handed me a couple of prescriptions, and out the door I went.

Heidi is my Hero
I need to take a moment here and talk about the kindness of strangers. It may seem at odds with the normal ranting I do about humanity in general, but even I can be surprised by the thoughtful gestures of others. My case in point here is my designated driver through all of this. Now I know I have mentioned that it’s been hard to meet people here, especially since I am gone so much. Well, one thing that I have done consistently since moving is to head to my friendly local spa for a pedicure. In fact, I am such a fixture there that my pedicurist has become my de facto BFF. (She really had no choice in the matter.) So, about a month ago I made the very awkward request for her to be my designated driver should I decide to pursue the surgery. Much to my delight she agreed. What neither of us saw coming was that the appointment would come up so soon. And that it would occur the same weekend she was moving from her apartment into her first house. I still can’t believe she agreed. It turned out that in addition to hauling me to and from the doctor, she also waited with me to get my prescriptions filled, and she came back the next day to run shuttle service for me again for my 24 hour follow-up visit. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have come across someone so accommodating and generous as Heidi. She gives a darn good pedicure too. Come visit and I will take you to meet her.

Puff Liddy- You were NEVER my Boyfriend!
Now then, I don’t consider myself to be a wuss when it comes to pain. I don’t go looking for it (no daring you to punch me in the stomach or seeing me crush beer cans on my forehead), but I also don’t think I launch into hysterics over a splinter or a paper cut. That being said, I have not experienced pain like this in quite some time. I am not ashamed to say there was much whimpering involved as I lay in bed over the next 2 days. My eyes were pretty much swollen shut and it felt as though sand had been poured into them. I described this to a friend who then dubbed me “puff liddy.” I said it looked as though I had just broken up with my boyfriend and spent the weekend crying about it.

Today: Partly Cloudy, Tomorrow??
My solution, at least for the first day, was to stay asleep as much as possible. For my follow up visit the next day, Heidi had to actually help me down my stairs since I couldn’t open my eyes enough to see. Luckily things improved rapidly after that. As of Monday my eyes were no longer puffy and my vision was mostly clear. Yeah, driving to the airport was fun. As part of the surgery, they put contacts in as sort of a bandage to help the healing process. I have to leave these things in for a week. I can’t wait for Friday to get here so I can get these things out.

The Race for Cleanliness
It also seems like since the surgery I have more eyewear than ever. I’m walking around looking super cool (or like a total poser) with my sunglasses (restrooms, airplanes, Starbucks). They also gave me these really fun eye shields that they wanted me to tape to my face for the first three nights. Yeah, like that was going to happen. And then there are the shower goggles. Makes me feel like I am gettng ready for a swim meet. I keep waiting for the starter gun and my shower time is considerably shorter. I guess I should be glad the goggles are the only head gear they are forcing on me. (If I had a crash helmet and a piece of cork stuck to the end of my fork, we would be dealing with that whole “window licker” business again.)