Awesome Shit: Eye Surgery
I got the inspiration for this blog entry while I was working on another one that touched on my former dweeb status as an unripe human and on into my teen years. The story is, I started going blind (legally speaking) when I was only 12. It was a slow process that was not noticeable until one day while while watching Carl Sagan’s Cosmos, my Dad asked me why I was squinting. Shit went downhill from there, and I wound up diagnosed with myopia – nearsightedness – which meant glasses.
Keep in mind here that this was long, long before the notion of being a hipster was even created, so escaping into a crowd of douchebags was impossible. My young ass had no recourse but to automatically get recategorized into the ‘nerd’ box, and my tendency toward stuff like Cosmos didn’t slow that designation down much. As the years ticked by, the eyes got worse, the grades stayed high, and spit out of high school the only saving graces to my nearly-dateless existence were contact lenses and football. By the time my vision stabilized, I was 24 and bottomed out at 20/400.
I waited patiently after corrective surgery was developed, which started off risky, painful, and prohibitively expensive. Years passed and I had largely quit thinking about it and given up when the Army acquired five cutting-edge Lasik systems and trained Army doctors to wield them. The program established was open to combat arms (those who do actual combat) Soldiers, the goal being to make the individual more deployable. Best of all, in exchange for being a guinea pig (albeit a fairly huge guinea pig), it was free. All I had to do was endure about four months of data collection and eye-measurement. This was no problem – I’d quit contact lenses years back because they were just a pain in the ass, and I was a combat arms officer. Measurements were taken, questionnaires completed, waiting areas occupied.
The day came, and in 45 minutes of actual time under the laser, the surgery was done. Next came recovery, which amounted to my big, white carcass laying on the sofa with my eyes closed resisting the urge to rub them. I had no idea how this was turning out, or whether the procedure would be good or not. The Sunday night following the Friday morning surgery was the time the doc said I could start acting normally. I got off the sofa and went outside, sans spectacles.
This was the moment of the miracle. No correction, and I could read shit on buildings waaay down the street. I could see shit that Di couldn’t even read. I enjoyed the moment and went inside to change my pants. Afterward I was assessed at 20/15. Today I’m at 20/20. Life was great. I got reaquainted with my toes. I no longer needed three rags for doing yardwork (drippy sweat issues). I was willing to swim again. I learned for the first time what my dick actually looked like.
So here’s the uplifting, enthusiastic conclusion: just do it if you hate your glasses. No matter what, it’s worth the money. The simple joy of waking up in the dark and being able to know what time it is in a quick, unsquinted glance is worth it alone. You won’t regret it.