The Actual Procedure – Surgery Day pt. 3

“Try not to move”, the doctor says as I’m rolled underneath a large laser producing machine. “Try to relax and don’t move”, I heard the doctor’s voice say as surgical instruments were strapped to my head.

Here’s the setting:
I’m at the TLC Laser Vision Correction Center. I had a Valium maybe 30 – 40 minutes ago and yet somehow my nerves are racing more than I remember them ever doing in the past. The room I’m in is sterile and mostly occupied by two large and odd looking machines; there is also a large viewing window so that friends and/or family can watch as the procedure is being performed. I can’t really see any of this though as my glasses have been taken from me and multiple drops of different liquid prescriptions have been placed into my eyes. There are blue booties over my shoes and similar covering over my head. Large wads of cotton are taped over my ears and I’m lying on my back squeezing a stuffed toy version of ‘Goofy’. My eyelids have just been lifted up and taped to my forehead so that I cannot blink. My laser vision corrective surgery is about to begin.

“Just keep looking straight ahead”, a voice says. Thankfully some of the drops that were put in my eyes were numbing drops as a device made to hold my eyeball completely still is placed directly onto my eye. I don’t really feel it, but it does give me extreme tunnel vision. The crazy part comes next, I hear the doctor say “Suction”, and the device actually sucks up my eyeball. Again, there isn’t any real pain at this point, but the sensation and accompanying vision loss is at little discomforting. On a side note, for days after the surgery I had red circular blood rings around both of my eyes as a result of this device. Too bad I didn’t have this operation around Halloween.

The next crazy part is when the laser actually starts up. All that can be seen is a blinding flash of light, almost strobe-like as it continuously fires in rapid succession. A loud ‘zap, zap, zap, zap, zap’ fills the room. “You are doing fine, the first part is almost over”, says a soothing female voice. Then the light and noise fade and I’m pulled out from underneath the first laser. Here the doctor jabs a needle-like hook into my eye to lift up the corneal flap. Apparently I didn’t get enough numbing drops in that eye because I felt the prick of the needle and kicked my leg real hard as a reflex as well as yelled, “Owe!” Mere seconds later a nurse was above me putting more numbing drops into each of my eyes and then I was maneuvered under the second laser.

This is where the real fun begins. The laser fires up again with its ‘zap, zap, zap, zap’ and blindingly bright light. Every ounce of my being wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and assume the fetal position. And just as I think things can’t get any worse, what’s that… ‘What is that foul smell?’ I think as the laser continues to zap my eyeball. The realization hits me. That awful smell is my own burning eyeball! Then things get just a little worse still. As the nurses are continually lubricating my eyes with some sort of liquid, simple saline I assume, a lot of it runs down my throat and I begin to taste something kind of like burnt marshmallows. You heard right, burning eyeball tastes remarkably like a marshmallow.

Because of the “slight discomfort” that I’m experiencing, I twist, pull, and tug on Goofy so much that by the end of the surgery the poor stuffed toy is hardly recognizable. The rest of the surgery goes as expected. To my surprise, my heart does not jump out of my chest despite how rapidly it is beating. If not for the first needle in my eye, the procedure wouldn’t have really hurt at all. It was very nerve wrecking mind you, and the bad smell and taste didn’t help, but it really wasn’t that bad of an experience overall. Okay, so actually the feeling was, what I hope is, the closest thing to actual torture I’ll ever experience.

But after about three minutes everything is over. Laser vision correction is surprisingly fast and I was under the lasers for less than five minutes in total.

As soon as the procedure is over, the doctor says you did great and the nurses help sit you up. Then they walk you over to the exit and the last thing they say is, “What time is it?” Looking at the clock on the wall I answer, “3:15”. To my astounding amazement, I actually just read the wall clock from across the room. Success!

Honestly, my vision directly after the surgery was kind of like looking through skim milk. Everything was very blurry and milky, but surprisingly vastly improved to the point that I didn’t need my glasses to tell time any more.

Into the Surgery Area – Surgery Day pt. 2

So after about 15 minutes of waiting in the little sitting area directly outside the surgery room, a nurse finally came to take me back. By this time my nerves were shot, even though I had been given a valium in the eye examination room where the antibiotic drops were applied to my eyes.

I want to start by saying that the surgery room, which I was given the opportunity to see before just not from the inside, was scary and only intensified my nervous feeling. It was basically a sterile looking version of a mad scientist’s lab or perhaps some sort of ultra clean torture chamber. There were two big ominous looking machines (one to cut the corneal flap, and one to make the tiny incisions on my exposed eye), multiple people in blue scrubs and white masks buzzing around yet somehow all staring at me at the same time, and a gurney type table that I was to lie on during the procedure. To me though, without my glasses, everything was a fuzzy blur and I felt scared and alone.

A rather cute nurse led me to the surgery table and instructed me to lie down. I was a bit unsteady at this point, partly due to the drugs – both taken internally and those dropped into my eyes, and partly due to my franticly racing nerves (not to mention that I physically couldn’t see because I wasn’t wearing my glasses) and so the nurse actually assisted me onto the operating table. She passed some more instructions to me along with a few soothing words like, “This will all be over before you know it” and “Don’t move while the laser is on”.

My breathing was really fast by this point and I don’t think the valium ever kicked in. It was as I was lying down, staring straight up at the ceiling, that I was given my stuffed animal: Goofy. Sadly, I didn’t get to choose which stuffed animal I’d be holding on to. At this point I was still uncertain of the need to hold onto something during the surgery but I’d soon learn the staff’s rational. Again I was instructed to use Goofy as a stress ball and to squeeze it rather than move my head/body as the procedure would be a tad uncomfortable. This is the first time anyone mentioned that the operation would be even remotely uncomfortable.

So with Goofy in my arms my eyelids were taped open so that I no longer was able to blink. Feelings of being in some deranged science-fiction movie washed over me as I starred unblinkingly up towards the ceiling as nurses hovered around me not quite in range of my peripheral vision. It was explained to me that the two large machines, the ones that would be actually producing the surgical laser that hopefully would correct my vision, were immobile and it was I, on my uncomfortable flat table of a bed, that would be moving, actually swung around, to be positioned underneath them.

As the doctor wheeled his stool/chair closer to me, he instructed me to always look straight ahead into the light and not to move at all. Then I was told that he would work on one eye at a time. My right eye would be first. I would be put under the first laser machine and then the next and then he would repeat the process with my left eye. There wasn’t time for clarification or questions if I had them as I was already being positioned underneath the first large laser machine, often called an IntraLase machine. This is the machine that cuts the cornea flap when bladeless Lasik is performed instead of the microkeratome metal blade.

Go to the next post

Waiting - Surgery Day pt. 1

My lasik surgery was scheduled at 1:00 PM on April 25, 2008 at the TLC Laser Eye Center in Atlanta, GA. I was told not to arrive early as there would be a wait before the surgery actually began. Well they were right. Four other patients showed up at almost the exact same time that I did.

Why on earth did we all have to be there at the same time is beyond me. As if I do not have better things to do than sit around in a waiting room. TLC should think about changing their name to TLC Laser Eye Waiting Center since I waited about an hour and a half before being prepped for surgery. To compensate for this, a movie was playing on a flat screen television in the waiting area.

The prepping stage is when the nerves really set in. I was brought back to a normal eye examination room where I was given blue booties/sock things to cover up my shoes. This is also where the numbing and antibiotic drops were placed into my eyes. The procedure was explained one more time, this go around with a tad more detail, but no hint at what would really happen.

I was also told that I would be given a stuffed animal, as everyone is given a stuffed animal to hold on to during the procedure. When I shot an odd look at the doctor’s assistant person who told me this, I was informed that the stuffed animal should be used as a type of stress ball and that I should squeeze it during surgery.

After a little blue doctor’s cap was placed on my head and cotton balls were taped over my ears, I was led to another waiting room. I was in this area for about 15 minutes before being led back to the actual surgical area.

Go to Part Two