The smell of burning cornea...

Greetings followers,


     When preparing to donate an organ, the donor has to go through a rigorous psychological assessment to ensure that 1) they are aware of what they are doing and 2) to ensure that they are not being coerced or paid to donate. I of course passed with flying colours and well, as they say, the rest is history. Although I wasn't paid for my little "gift" (which ended up in the trash bin anyway!) my mom did give me a thank you present - Laser Eye Surgery! I give a liver, she gives me sight. Sounds good to me. Although Canada is the land of free liver transplants it is not the land of free elective laser eye surgery so the whole thing has always been a bit out of my budget. I considered doing it in Bangkok but considering the things I've seen in the land of smiles where health and safety standards, regulatory boards and "following the rules" is concerned, I thought I'd probably be better off doing it at home. 
     With my new life as a diving instructor drawing closer, it has become pretty much a must to get this done. I'm blind as a bat and not being able to see without a prescription dive mask or contacts makes the whole diving thing a bit difficult, especially when teaching and having to switch between being under the water and surfacing. Being able to discern between a shark and a piece of seaweed will definitely pose various improvements in my diving life and being able to avoid attempting to teach surface skills to a floating log while my students wait nearby puzzled will most surely improve my chances of securing gainful employment in the dive industry. So as soon as I was healed enough to be able to handle another surgery, I booked myself in to the eye zapping centre and got ready to toss those spectacles in the bin. 
     As I walked into the laser eye centre I assumed I'd be told that I'd have the surgery and be able to see perfectly the next day. After all, this is how it works on those makeover shows on TLC where they turn to frumpy bespectacled fashion disaster into a glasses-free beauty queen. Of course, being a Zeiler, I should know from recent surgical ventures that we require special care and attention and if there is a more difficult route to be followed, we'll be taking it. As it turns out, my ventures in boxing and diving and desire to take up surfing in Bali rules out the speedy see-the-next-day Lasik procedure. Apparently with Lasik they slice the top layer of your eye off to make a flap, zap away, then put the flap back. It takes at least a year for the flap to secure itself fully; in the meantime a hit to the face, a open-eyed fall from a surfboard or an errant fin to the mask at 20 meters could dislodge the flap and then you've got yourself a problem. Living in the land of modern medical facilities, this would not be a problem but knowing my luck I'll be in the Lembeh Strait or off the coast of Papua New Guinea when my flap flops off and no amount of voodoo doctor chanting and eyes full of plant juice and secret jungle elixir will fix me up. So under the advice of my eye doctor I decided to go with the much slower healing, much more involved "PRK" surgery. Instead of cutting off the top layer of my eye they instead scrape it right off then put on a "bandage" contact lens while it grows back. Unlike it's much quicker brother "Lasik" , PRK leaves me somewhat blind for 2 weeks to a month. Of course it does! I'm a Zeiler, I need to make sure that everything is the most complicated route possible. 

         On the day of surgery I arrived in the lobby of the clinic surrounded by recent patients in Robocop style Blueblocker sunglasses and awaited the moment when my eye could be scrapped, zapped and bandaged up

Take me to your leader... (stranger modeling the latest in laser eye surgery fashion)

 .

 Strangely enough I was more nervous about this surgery than I was about getting half my liver removed (which came with the risk of me dying). I guess I am more afraid of being blind than being dead. Anyway, after being "soothed" with calm music and an adavan, I was ushered into the laser room where my eyes were held open Clockwork Orange style and I got to learn what burning cornea smells like. For those of you who are curious, it smells like burning hair. All in all it was a highly stressful and unpleasant experience although it didn't hurt. It's not something I'm too keen on repeating. At the moment I'm 1.5 weeks post surgery. I've had the "bandages" removed and my vision is still fluctuating and definitely not 20/20 yet. A friend who had it done about 6 months ago said it took her 1 month to fully stabilize so I guess for the time being I will enjoy almost perfect vision and a daily regiment of steroid drops and slime in my eyes.       

                                                                                  

Just stare at the laser and don't mind the smell...

                                                

I've got an appointment on Monday to see if I can see good enough to drive the car and I'm officially allowed to get water in my eyes (no more showering with swim goggles on!) so I guess I'm well on the road to recovery. By the time I hit Thai soil I'll have a new set of eyes, a freshly grown liver and a highly missed gallbladder. All in a days work for the princess, all in a days work. 

Cheers from the corneal haze

J