I'll Be Seeing You (In All the New, Familiar Places)

This time tomorrow, I will either be able to throw away my glasses and contacts forever, or I'll be having a seeing eye dog help me to the bathroom.

Yep. I gave in, as I so often do, to peer pressure. Following the lead of several friends, co-workers, and my spouse, I am getting Lasik. Years ago, in the middle of the great Eye Allergy Catastrophe of 2006, my opthamologist tried to get me to see the light in regards to elective eye surgery.

"You may never be able to wear your contacts again," she said, after discovering that I actually had a rash on the inside of my eyelids. "But you could always get Lasik, so long as you don't get it while your eyes are actively inflamed from your allergies."

I laughed and told her there was no way I was going to let someone cut into my eyeballs, even with the help of a what I was assured was amazing technological advances, and that if I couldn't ever wear contacts I would just get along with some spiffy glasses.

That was then, and this is now.

I am possibly not as nervous as I should be. I know a lot can go wrong. I know people have complications. But I feel ready for this. Maybe not the laser-cutting-into-my-cornea-while-a-suction-cup-holds-my-eye-still part, but definitely the life-without-thick-glasses part.

So, wish me luck. I keep thinking that the procedure can't be as bad as some of the other stuff I've had done to my body while I've been wide awake in a medical facility; bone marrow biopsy, breast MRI when they didn't have me postioned correctly and I was face-down into a pillow in a narrow tube for 40 minutes,  needle biopsy. But these are my eyes, the only set I'll ever have, and I may be singing a different tube once I start smelling burning organic matter tomorrow morning while the laser does its thing.

I will be taking some time off from writing to let my eyes heal. I'll see you all later...hopefully.