I have worn glasses for most of my adult life. In third grade, I lost the ability to read the blackboard in class or the license plates on passing automobiles. And shortly, my eyesight deteriorated to the point that I saw the whole world through a thick haze. Prior to my laser eye surgery, I saw the world through the lens of my iPhone in portrait mode. My left eye had a vision of -3.25 and my right eye had a vision of -2.75, with significant astigmatism in both eyes.
Why I had laser eye surgery
The fact is, I’ve never had a problem with wearing glasses. It was a normal part of each day since, to be honest, I had no recollection of life without spectacles. However, there were minor annoyances – forgetting to pack prescription sunglasses, viewing a 3D film with two pairs of glasses on, and being unable to see anything when it rained. Simultaneously, everyone I spoke with regarding laser eye surgery said it was one of the finest choices they’d ever made. As a result, I signed on the dotted line after taking the pre-laser eye surgery test and the doctor indicated that she may do the procedure the following day. You can check the laser eye surgery cost at https://www.personaleyes.com.au/costs/lasiklaser-eye-surgery-cost
I had laser eye surgery in July at Moscow’s Fyodorov Microsurgery Institute. This may not be suitable for everyone, since you will need to communicate in Russian. However, the technique is the same regardless of the nation.
Prior to the procedure:
The eye test before the laser eye surgery was similar to a routine eye exam — except for the horrifying final section (which I’ll get to in a moment). The optometrist walked me through around seven different pieces of equipment, evaluating my vision with a zoomed-in image of a hot air balloon, photographing my optical nerves, measuring pressure, dilation of my pupils, and reading numerals on a wall – I could read just the largest one without glasses.
Then came the most heinous part. I entered a room with a flashing LASER IS ON light. When I sat in front of the machine, the assistant placed eyedrops in my eyes instructed me to face the laser and quickly pressed a plastic contact lens to the surface of my eye. I recoiled, unaware of why she had touched my eye or what the laser was going to accomplish.
The Russian doctor laughed and instructed me to quit being a coward and to reclaim my seat. To be quite honest, this laser felt worse than the operation the next day. I felt the scrape of the plastic on my eyes. And, although it didn’t hurt, I felt the lingering soreness of having left a pair of contact lenses in a little too long for the remainder of the day.
Finally, the eye surgeon evaluated me. She went through the findings of each test with me and informed me that I may proceed with laser eye surgery the next day. I had a two-day journey out of Moscow, but she told me that I would be OK as long as I kept my eyes closed throughout the flight to keep them moist.
The last component was obtaining a blood test for HIV, Hepatitis B and C, and Syphilis. I’m not sure whether this is a Russian necessity, but it seems to be routine protocol prior to any operation.
I picked up my blood test results, paid for the procedure, and turned in my papers to the nurse’s station on the day of the laser eye surgery. I and the others were gathered by a harsh Russian lady. We proceeded in a straight path to the laser eye surgery center’s surgical room.
We removed our shoes, dressed in plastic scrubs, and secured our hair in lunch-lady hair nets. I waited in the waiting area, next to the cataract patients, for the next hour, hearing their names called out in ten-minute intervals.
How the operation went
You lay down in the laser eye surgery room on a machine that resembles an MRI but has a paddle attached. Once on the machine, the assistants clean your face and apply numbing eye drops to your eyes. Within seconds, your eyes go numb, and the assistant inserts a device to prop open the eyelids. You are slid into the machine, which is positioned above you by the surgeon.
The doctor instructs you to raise your eyes to the flashing green light as it falls. It makes contact with your eye and a synthetic voice says, “Suction On.” As you continue to concentrate on the light, the doctor counts down from 24 in 8-second intervals.
After that, everything gets hazy.
It’s as though you’re staring through a bedsheet at the world. The doctor instructs you to follow a light with the operated eye and spends around 30 seconds “cleaning up.” She then proceeds to the second eye. This is more alarming since your first eye has not yet focused and everything seems to be a soupy mess.
It takes roughly two minutes in total.
You rise, put on a pair of sunglasses (finally, prescription-free! ), and wait in the recovery area for as long as necessary.
One of the things that made me anxious was being informed that the world will be in a fog for the first several hours. It scared me the whole time I was preparing for the laser eye surgery, but this just meant that I would see precisely as I would without glasses during the first 3 to 4 hours of the procedure.
And those initial hours were agonizing. I was unable to open my eyes, despite the fact that I was wearing sunglasses. They sting as a result of the light, and soon the anesthetic wore off, the agony began. I barely made it to my apartment before swallowing two extra-strength ibuprofen and collapsing into a six-hour nap.
After the laser eyes surgery
It was just as the publications said. The next morning, I awoke with clear eyesight. I sobbed because I was so delighted… and partly because my eyes continue to ache.
I was required to return to the laser eye surgery clinic the next day for a follow-up checkup. Though I was unable to see 20/20 at the time, the doctor assured me that this was usual and that my vision will recover in about 30 days. I struggled to read the last line of the eye test, having previously been unable to read the first line.