When I was offered the chance to have laser eye surgery, you’d think I would have jumped at the chance to correct my rubbish eyesight, and forever be glasses and contact lenses-free.
But I didn’t.
Because if you think for one second that I’d allow someone to fry my cornea with the type of laser you’d expect to see crashing through space and time in Mars Attack, then you’ve got another think coming, sunshine.
I admit it: I’m a giant scaredy-cat. Especially when it comes to eye stuff. I hate anything going near my eyes. Literally anything – eyeliner, eye drops, sunglasses… I even put a kaleidoscope up to my eye too fast once and had a small but intense panic attack.
But after realising that my life would be improved tenfold, aka I wouldn’t have to put contact lenses in with gross fingers whilst hungover and wobbling about on an air mattress at festivals anymore, I grew a pair and booked a consultation with David Allamby, medical director at London's Focus Clinic.
My first appointment at the clinic was just to see if I was an eligible candidate for the procedure. I had a bunch of tests done – the type of tests you have to endure at the opticians, including the dreaded puff test.
I was good to go, so booked in for the actual surgery; telling myself I was fine. Everything was fine.
Fine.
Two weeks later, after taking flaxseed oil capsules twice a day, every day to make sure my eyes were as moist (ew) as possible, and having worn glasses and not contacts for a week, I arrived at the Harley Street clinic make-up-free, and raring to go. And by ‘raring to go’ I mean terrified to my very core about what would be happening to me over the next couple of hours.
I was told that I’d ideally need someone to come with me so I could get home safely after the procedure seeing as my ability to get the bus would be impaired by, ya know, THE GIANT LASER. So I dragged my boyfriend along, and warned him that I might not be on top form for the foreseeable future.
Before the surgery they double-checked my prescription hadn’t changed, loaded up the laser with said-prescription and we were good to go.
After being introduced to the two brilliant assistants who were helping David with my surgery, I donned my snazzy blue shoe covers (the type you see on those people that clean up murder scenes), and stuffed my hair under a hair net. There was no denying it – I looked awesome…
I laid down; yellow smiley face stress balls in hand, and prepared for the worst.
Have you ever seen Clockwork Orange?
Yeah, I had those things popped in each of my eyes, one at a time, before the anesthetic drops came. But, trust me, it was nothing like the film... yes, it may look scary, but it was genuinely fine. It still felt like you were blinking, so all-in-all, nothing to worry about.
I was told to focus on the green light directly above me. This would help me keep my eye still. And in case you were wondering, you can’t mess anything up by moving your eye. Knowing what a doofus I can be, my very first question to David was, “Is there anything I can do that can mess up the surgery. In other words, if I suddenly move my head will a laser go through me; slicing me in half – face to groin – like that poor guy in James Bond?”
The answer was obviously no. It was explained to me that the laser is programmed to only fire (is that the right word? Almost definitely not…) when it makes contact with your iris. So there’s nothing you can do to jeopardise your health and safety.
Phew.
Anyway, back to the procedure… so there I was focusing on the green light while David started cutting a flap across the top layer of my eyeball. Okay, so this doesn’t sound great – especially because of the use of the word ‘flap’, but you actually can’t feel too much. There’s definitely no feeling of having a flap cut into your eye (sorry again about ‘flap’), you can just feel a little pressure on your eye. And you can hardly see a thing because of the bright green light in front of you. So there’s no scary vision of a masked doctor coming towards you with a giant scalpel.
Laser time. The laser makes a laser-y noise, which can be a little disconcerting, and there’s a slightly weird burning smell – no biggie – but you count down from 20 seconds, and it’s done. A couple more anesthetic drops, and it’s time for eye number two.
And just the same as the first eye, the second eye was done in a super-short amount of time.
Not for any particular reason, but during the second eye I managed to get myself a bit stressed out, so when I sat up after the surgery was complete, I was crying (trust me – I cry at everything, so it really was nbd). This led to one of the assistants commenting that it was so sweet that I was crying because I was overwhelmed that I could see for the first time ever without glasses or contacts. That wasn’t it at all, but I nodded politely and passed her back her stress balls.
I was then taken to a dark room to recover for half an hour with my eyes shut. I was in a little pain, but it certainly wasn’t unbearable.
Before being sent off into a whole new world of perfect vision/stuffed into a taxi with a number of different drops, and my sunglasses on, David had another quick look at my eyes and said things were looking good. Great news to be told after someone’s taken a laser to your eyeballs.
Once home I was told to go to bed for a couple of hours, and given a list of instructions for my different eye drops. At this point my eyesight was still a little blurry, but that’s to be expected.
Oh, and I had to wear these when I slept to stop me hitting myself in the eye. They’re a bit like the scratch mitts given to babies to stop them hurting themselves.
Great…
The next morning, I woke up and could see EVERYTHING! I went back to the clinic for them to take a look at my eyes and give me an eye test. The results were in… better than 20-20 vision already!
The next week I had little bruises on my eyeballs, which no matter how much I tried to show people, nobody wanted to see. One of my friends actually retched, if I remember correctly. Harsh, but fair, tbh.
Then came the tricky bit; no make-up for one whole week. Nothing. Not a drop of anything, because it’s too much of a risk of infection. You can’t have concealer and mascara getting in your new peepers, right? So I sucked it up, and like the vain monster that I am, stayed in most nights.
I also couldn’t do any exercise for a week because sweat getting in your eyes is as bad as make up making its way in. So no gym for me for seven days.
FINE BY ME!
I had another appointment after one week, then another after a month, and both appointments had the same results: my eyes were healing up great, and I had better than 20-20 to brag about. And, boy did I brag!
And that’s it – I won’t have to wear glasses or contact lenses ever again. Well, apart from if and when I need reading glasses when I get older, but most people do – whether you’ve had laser eye surgery or not.
So here’s to at least 40 years of never having to wear glasses again! And all from just a 20 minute procedure.
(Oh, who am I kidding – it’ll be more like 20 years. #ImJustNotAsYoungAsIUsedToBe)
Follow Anna on Twitter.
Like this? Come and check us out on Snapchat Discover.
