Part 4: Recovery

We are now on Day 5 post-op from PRK/Lasik.

OK, so the folks at the Center for LASIK did not lie. Day 3 was the worst. Not for vision but for comfort. That was Wednesday. On and off all day, I experienced discomfort that ranged from mild to moderate in the morning and early day to uncomfortable in the evening to 'OK, I really hate this, give me a painkiller now' at night. I describe the pain in a couple of ways: 1) Like the stinging that accompanies cutting a fresh onion and 2) Like the burning that comes with holding a staring contest and refusing to blink. Overall, Day 3 was not nearly was bad as I thought it might be. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but most of the day was a 2-3 on a scale of 0-5, 5 being the worst. I took a painkiller and a sleeping pill on the night of Day 3. Day 4 was a new day.
Day 4 was notable for its absence of pain. I felt like everything about my health was normal except for the fact that my detail and long distance vision were mediocre. Toward the end of the day, I got that feeling I used to feel when I wore contacts, that end-of-the-day dryness. But using the fake tears helped that.
I was able to go to dinner at my boyfriend's grandparents on the night of Day 4. My boyfriend remarked that I was a different person (and I felt like it, too) compared to Day 3.
Now it's Day 5. I had my check-up with the doctor, and things are healing. Dr. Gailitis removed the 'bandage' contact lenses, which have been protecting me from debris and excruciating pain. My eyes individually measure 20/40, which is legal for driving. I did a test run driving my mom's car, and it went well. I can't read street signs, but I know where I need to go, anyway. I felt OK driving. Again, there is no pain today. But since the bandage lenses have been out, I feel the presence of foreign bodies but they are not overwhelming forces. :)
I plan to return to work tomorrow to see how things go.
My mom left today, so I'll be fending a bit more for myself. She has been invaluable, and I am so grateful so was able to be here for me. Plus, the office staff — Amy, Jeanie and Dr. Young — have been so kind and patient! Many thanks.

A note on meds, just to keep you up on details:
* 5 days before surgery, I started a regimen of 1000 MG of Vitamin C per day. This will last a total of 2 weeks.
* 3 days before surgery, I started a regimen of 1200 MG of ibuprofren. This started the Friday before the Monday surgery and ended on Wednesday,
* 1 day before surgery, I began 3 different drops 4 times a day (antibiotics and NSIDs of some sort). This continued till morning of Day 5, when drops dropped (tee hee) to 2 different kinds per day instead of 3 kinds.
* Post-op, I am taking Refresh preservative drops several times a day.
All meds cost me about $177 (not using insurance).

Part 2: The Surgery

Soon after arriving for my scheduled appointment on Jan. 24, Amy, the office manager sweetly asked if I would like a valium. "Yes, please," was my reply. I had begun to feel nervous — the palms of my hands were a little sweaty. My mom came with me to speak to the optometrist, Dr. Mary Beth Young (who is completely awesome), where she explained to me what would happen once I went into "the room."
Here's what happened:
First, I put on a little blue cap and little blue footies over my shoes. Then two nurses walked me into the surgery room, a large room with more nurses and a large machine in the middle of it. Two of the walls were large windows, for observers to watch the proceedings. My mom decided not to watch. I lay down on the low metal table and made sure my head was snug in the headrest. I was happy to have my sweater and wished I had a blanket on my legs.
The surgeon (Dr. Ray Gailitis, he of the steady hand) told me he would do one eye first, then the other. He covered my left eye with a black patch — "like a pirate," he joked — and then asked me to look up. When my eyelids were open like this, he used tape to hold the top lid high and the bottom lid low. Then he placed an oval piece of plastic to keep my eye open wide. I think they did something like this to Mel Gibson in 'Conspiracy Theory.'
Next came the eyedrops. That sounds like an innocuous sentence, I know. But when you can't blink and there are 10 drops shooting into your eye all at once, you kinda wish you were anywhere else but on that table. Finally, the drops were over. They were 'numbing drops.' Finally, the doctor used what appeared to be a kind of broom for the eye to sweep away the extra drops. They also ran down the sides of my face. Fortunately, the nurse had already put little cotton pieces under my blue cap to catch the drippings.
Next came another set of drops. Icky. Then, the doctor said he was going to give me some 2 percent alcohol drops. First, he placed a small cylinder onto my eye so that I really had tunnel vision. I felt like I was watching what was happening through a TV camera. I saw the alcohol drops fall onto my lid. The little green light above my head, at first just a green blur, turned into a solid green circle, like what you would see under a microscope. I watched the drops swirl within this green circle. I heard a countdown: 45 seconds to go ... 30 seconds ... 15 seconds. Then the doctor removed the tunnel-inducing cylinder and 'swept' the drops away.
Next came the hard part. This is what makes this type of Lasik different than most. The doctor had to scrape away parts of my eyeball. Don't ask me what it was called, because I asked the doctor not to tell me. All I know is that because my cornea is a little thin and oddly shaped, I had to get this sort of PRK Lasik. With a steady hand, the doctor used what looked from my vantage point to be a small black tool to scrape away the ... whatever it's called. Did it hurt? No. Did the idea of it hurt? Yes. My heart was thumping, and I was squeezing the nurse's hand. I concentrated on my breathing, filling my lungs, calming myself down.
Finally, the scrapey part was over and it was time for the Laser. "Just look at the green light," the doctor advised, "and keep as still as you can." I did. I gazed at the light while I smelled a nasty smell, which Dr. Young had told me earlier would NOT be my eye burning. "We're about halfway through," said the doctor. Then it was over. He told me I did great job, and asked me to look up so he could remove the tape from my lids. That felt like getting an eyebrow wax, but the good news was, as I said to the surgery crew, "I could see!"
The doctor repeated on my left eye what he did on my right. I sat up slowly off the metal table. The doctor asked me if I could read the clock. I said, as I looked out the window wall, "I can see my mom eating a cookie!" And I could also read the time: "It's 10 after two," I said. Next came a quick photograph of me, the surgeon and one of the nurses. The surgery was over.
Next: Part 3: I survived PRK and all I got was this stupid eye gear!

Part 1: Deciding to get Lasik

Twenty-six years of eyeglasses and contact lenses, countless bottles of Saline solution, many, many frames and $2,127 ($177 of it of RX not using insurance) later, I finally have vision without the help of contacts or glasses. I am — so far — a successful case of Laser surgery known as PRK. I like to describe it as the "scrapey, not the flappy" kind of Laser correction.

Back in March, I had gone for my regular eye ckeck-up. While I was at the optometrist’s office, I decided to get a preliminary Lasik consultation ... just to see if I qualified. I did. I liked the staff. I liked the office. Then they told me the price — $1,950 an eye — and I decided it could wait. So I waited. And waited. Then in November, I got an email from Living Social with the following subject line: 50% Off LASIK TREATMENT.
With the thought ‘It couldn’t hurt to look,” I opened up the email. Guess what? It was the same place I had gone for my initial consultation. After a couple of phone calls back and forth between the doctor’s office, I decided to buy it.
We set a date of Jan. 24 for a few reasons, one them being that my mom could be in town to help out.

For more, read Part 2: The Surgery

Part 3: I survived PRK and all I got was this stupid eye gear!

Mom helps me attach the protective eye gear for my Day 1 nap.


I will wear these for 7 nights to protect my new eyes.

I came home 30 minutes later on the day of PRK surgery and was still groggy from the valium. The doctor told me to try to keep my eyes closed for most of the day, opening them only to go to the bathroom, to eat, etc. My mom drove us home while I kept my eye closed, as the sun was too bright for me, despite my wraparound sunglasses. When I slept, I was told to wear special coverings to keep from disturbing my eyes. My mom helped me put on the plastic eye coverings using some medical tape. "I think freezer tape would work better," opined my mother. Still, we persevered with the medical tape, and the results are pictured here. (My boyfriend had come home from school and taken out his camera.) Then I napped for three hours. When I woke up, my mom had made some chicken and rice for me. Yum! I listened to some TV for a while then went back to bed. My doctor called around 9 p.m. to make sure everything was going all right. I told him I felt a little burny in my right eye, but it wasn't horrible, and that my eyes were very teary. He said it was all normal, and he would see me for my followup the next day.
After a long sleep — 12 or so hours — I woke around 9:30 and was able to see! The vision was still a bit blurry on details, but I could look at my phone to call people or text. I could see the TV channels but not read the news crawl. When I got to my appointment, the doctor said everything was looking good, that my eyes were healing. I had 20/20 vision (using both eyes, not individually). Dr. Gailities and the staff warned me that the next day, Day 3, would probably be more painful for me. Today, I am obviously on the computer. Today is Day 2, but I don't know what tomorrow will bring.
I am told my vision won't settle for three months, but that by Monday (one week after surgery), I can expect to be pretty good in terms of pain and vision.
So that's all for now. Getting through Day 2, hoping Days 3 and beyond will treat me well.
Part 4: The Recovery