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| - This will be the only time you'll have a laser shined in your eyes, where you don't immediate try to catch the brat kid aiming the pointer at you. Holy eye-gasm! I got my new eyes about 7 years ago, and I haven't looked back. Get it? LOOKED BACK? Nothing? Alright then.
I have to echo Erin B's great review a little bit, but she's absolutely right. The offices are as relaxing as you can get. I suppose there's so much stigma surrounding this procedure, that they want the vict--err, patient to be as comfortable as possible. Leather couches, wi-fi, plasma TVs, music, snacks, and extremely kind yet professional people working there, really make you feel like you're hanging out, and not preparing to risk blindness.
I dare not get into pricing, because
1) It varies depending on the complexity of your eye problem, and
2) Back then, I paid a Scrooge McDuck fortune, compared to what it probably costs now.
I'm sure the biggest question for most people isn't the niceness of the office, but of the specifics of the procedure itself. Let me take you to school with a half-assed Readers Digest version:
When you have sight issues, it's generally due to a lack of light getting in through the corneas. The procedure determines if you have enough corneal tissue to spare, the laser will fry some of it, and once removed, it allows the proper amount of light to get in, perfecting your vision.
When you go in for your consultation, they put you through a series of tests: The general eye test ("What letter is that? Is this better or worse?"), a scan of your eyeball, and the test of your corneal tissue. I have to be honest, the corneal tissue test bothered me more than the procedure itself. You're given eye-drops which freeze your eyes, and you watch in horror, as the doctor pokes and prods your eyeballs with what looks like a tampon from hell. You don't feel anything, but you can see your vision jitter back and forth as he's doing it. Yerrgh. Afterward, all of your eye's info pops up on a monitor, and they give you a rundown on if you're putting yourself at any risk by doing the procedure. Fortuntely, my eye-flesh is awesome, so I got the green light.
When you return for the procedure, you're offered a sedative, which I declined. You're then led into a room very unlike the rest of the office. It's medieval. I don't mean in an unsanitary rusty cage sort of way, but in a sterile, operating room sense. You get up on a metallic table and they give you a numbing eye-drop. This one was unlike the one in the consultation, this one kind of frosts your vision a little bit. You rest your head inside this plastic thing to kind of hold it in place, and you're given the speech about the machine. Basically, if you move an inch, the laser will shut itself off automatically, and they have to waste time restarting it, so it's best if you hold still. They do a great job of easing you into the actual 'beaming', and when it comes, I can only hypothetically describe it as a psychedelic trip whilst sober, sans Pink Floyd and regrets. You're treated to all sorts of swirling colours, and it's all pretty cool, though I can see why it may panic some people, especially with the faint smell of burning flesh making its way into your nostrils.
After zapping you for a few minutes, you see what I can best describe as a windshield-wipe of your eyes, and you can suddenly see perfectly. I hesitate to mention that the 'wipe' is actually a SCALPEL SLICING YOUR SCORCHED EYEBALLS. Booga booga!
And that's it. As mentioned in Erin's review, the office is quite bright, but I was warned before going back in to put on sunglasses. They offer you VR-trooper-looking shades, but I brought my own. Once in the bright area, I had to sneak a peek without the glasses. When I lifted them slightly, it was awesome. As they noted, it almost doesn't seem real immediately after the procedure, and everything I was looking at had an early-days-of-CGI (real, and yet sort of animated) look to it. That sensation was soon gone, and that signaled the month o' eye-drops that I was just beginning.
As for side-effects, they do warn that for the first little while, you might see white glows above people at night (they call them "haloes"). I never experienced them, but streetlights gave off a really trippy effect. They looked like they were spewing random beams of light everywhere. Headlights were disorienting as well, which made night-driving impossible for a while. Small price to pay for being able to read street-signs, alarm clocks, and subtitles with the greatest of ease, if you ask me.
So, 7 years later, how do I feel? I feel like my vision isn't quite as perfect, though they do tell you that reading glasses are inevitable down the road. I would say I'm still pretty close to 20/20 though, and this procedure is one of the best investments I've ever made. Just ignore the horror stories, and go for a consult, four-eyes.
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