So I’m driving through Jones Valley Farm this morning to drop Helen off at school…. I’m wearing my super-stylin’ eye shield goggles (which are like unattractive racquetball goggles), and I looked from Garth road across the valley to the mountains on the other side.
There are individual trees on top of those mountains. With individual trunks, and branches, and light shining through.
The light poles along the sides of Carl T. Jones Drive ? Crisp edges. The electrical wires are unique, single individuals instead of linear blurs.
My astigmatism has never been fully corrected. I can read the “Chevrolet” logo on the truck parked in the driveway across the street. I’ve always known what it SAID, but I couldn’t read it before. Now I can.
I asked the surgeon specifically if I’d ever be able to wear contacts again should my eyes change as I age. He said, “You shouldn’t have to — the goal is for you NOT to ever have to, but yes, you could if you needed to.” Reading glasses? Yes. I’ll need those just as I would if I hadn’t had LASIK. But that doesn’t bother me so much. What *bothered* me was the idea of having to get the $600+ polybicarbonate bifocals because my lenses would otherwise be half an inch thick. That issue has been eradicated.
I expect that today will be somewhat emotional for me, as I discover the world in all its crispness. I’m particularly enjoying looking at the trees and the snarls of teeny tiny little branches at each tip that I’ve never been able to see before.
What else in this world have I missed since I couldn’t see it?
As for the pain/discomfort today? Some light sensitivity and it feels like I’ve worn my contacts too long — kind of gunky and they burn a bit. But not too bad. Yesterday until about 6 (they finished the surgery at 2) was the worst. And the suction cups that held my eyes in place for the laser have given my eyeballs hickies, so they’re very very bloodshot on the outer whites. But even that has dissipated a lot since last night.
I won’t lie — the actual surgery is not pleasant. Especially as they finish the first eye and you realize in your Valium stupor, “Oh, shit, I’ve gotta do that again.” And I have very small orbits and very tight lids (my suspicion that my eyes are small and beady has been confirmed by an expert. Gee, thanks!). But as the surgeon led me out of the surgical suite and back to an exam room, I could see Jerry’s face — CLEARLY — through the haze. I started to cry with joy right there — of all the things in this world that I have ever wanted, clear vision has always topped the list. And I got to experience it for the first time since childhood yesterday. Maybe the first time ever. I don’t remember the world ever being this clear.