The Dark Side of Lasik Surgery

Last week I was evaluated for Lasik surgery. This is where you pay an eye doctor unbelievably large sums of money to take a laser beam to your eyes to correct your vision. Although it’s been a dream of mine to be able to wake up and tell if the lump beside me is my husband, a cat, or a pile of laundry that needs folding, I’ve been hesitant about Lasik. I think it’s because of that laser beam thing. I’m not squeamish about surgery in general. You want to hack into me and take out a lung or kidney? Fine. But I do not like the idea of people messing with my eyes. They’re bad now, but at least they still work. One slip with that laser beam and ZZZT! Who knows?

But the mess and hassle of contacts has edged me toward the surgery. No more taking contacts in and out on a plane when I travel? No gunked up lenses due to seasonal allergies? No nipping at my eyeball with my fingers because I’ve forgotten I’ve already taken the lens out of that eye? (It’s happened.) Sign me up.

And sign up I did. Turns out I am an “excellent” candidate for Lasik which is eye doctor code for “We’re thrilled to take your money.” I was evaluated last Thursday and my surgery is January 8th. Bim, bam, boom—done.

They sent me home with a pile of paperwork. I have to stop wearing contacts 10 days before the surgery. Ten days of glasses. Not fun, but okay, I’ll make it. Then there are eye drops and wipes to apply the three days leading up to the surgery. Easy. No makeup, perfume, deodorant the day of the surgery. A little gross, but still okay. Then I ran across the whopper: No mascara, eyeliner, or makeup around the eyes for two weeks after the surgery.

Uh, can we say, “deal breaker?”

People, I do NOT leave the house without under eye concealer. I’m afraid the dark circles under my eyes will lead people to believe I’m either:
a) On drugs
b) Sleep deprived
c) Beaten by my husband
Two weeks of no eye makeup? Why not just stab me with an ice pick and be done with it? I also have to throw out all old eye make-up out as it may be “contaminated.” Blair, who’s perfectly willing to pay thousands for this eye surgery, threw his hands up at the mention of new make-up.

“And what’s THAT going to cost us?” he asked.

“No more than thirty dollars,” I said. “Sheesh. Calm down.”

“You’re right,” he said. “Plus, we’ll save more than that by never leaving the house the month of January until you can wear eye makeup again.”

I love a man who understands me.

So I’m going to do it. Swallow the “optional” (right) Valium and lie on a table for 15 minutes while Star Wars technology is applied to my eyes. I’m scared but mostly excited. Being able to see the minute I open my eyes… I can’t even remember what that’s like. Plus, I’ll finally stop hugging the laundry and saying, “Morning, honey.”

Updates to follow.