Diary of a Laser Patient – Day 1, The Procedure

To read the first installment of Diary of a Laser Patient, click here.

I’m waiting in the doctor’s office with my friend Michael who is playing tetris on my cell phone and commenting on the lackluster decor of the doctor’s office (he’s gay). After an hour wait I’m finally ushered into the office where the not-so friendly nurse smothers anesthetic cream all over my face and puts me on a trolley and I wait another 45 minutes while the nerve endings on my face begin to tingle and feel like someone smothered it with novocaine. Soon after the DOCTOR walks in with much pomp and circumstance — me thinks this dude has an ego. After asking what I was hoping for again in this procedure — he ushered me into the “back room” — apparently the room that houses the lasers. Dah dah dummmm.

Now I hop onto another little trolley and lay down. The DOCTOR tells me that I’ll need to cover my eyes to shield the laser and then proceeds to stick two medal disks on the surface of my eye. Now, imagine this –someone sticking not only contacts in your eyes but metal ones. One thing I should have mentioned — I was his last patient of the day before he was headed on a 10 day trip to India to teach his magical ways with the laser beam to eager students. When he tells me how he will be teaching pupils in India — I can’t help but imagine him with a giant laser beam a la Luke Skywalker in Star Wars… I start to giggle, which I don’t think was endearing me to the DOCTOR. I had a hunch scheduling this surgery wasn’t the wisest thing to do thinking the DOCTOR might preoccupied– but hell, this was the only time that fit my schedule and this girl’s busy. So, there I was with this man sticking these metal disks in my eyes. I yelped and he seemed increasingly/abnormally frustrated and annoyed — and continued to shove the disks into my eyes in a not-so gentle way.

With that tid-bit of torture out of the way, he proceeds to sizzle my face off with the laser. And it hurt — a lot. Nobody told me about that part when I was booking the surgery — or warned that there might be the slightest bit of discomfort, for that matter. Twenty-five minutes later the maestro of the laser beam is finito. His nurse (whose first day on the job is today — woo hoo, lucky me!) roughly smear some sort of thick copper (CU has healing properties) cream on my face. After asking her several times not to press my freshly scalded face so hard — I’m on my way. My friend Michael is waiting patiently in the waiting room and sympathetically drives me home as he belts out tunes along with the radio. He is nervous that this longer than expected surgery appointment will keep him from going to the gym — which would be a cardinal sin. Michael really does have a very excellent bod but he suffers from OCD.

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