YOU WON’T BELIEVE YOUR EYES
For half my life, I haven’t known a single day where I haven’t relied on glasses or contact lenses, meaning many activities that other people take for granted involve an additional layer of organisation. Swimming is a no-no with contact lenses, and flailing through sand trying to find the sea isn’t a good look – is it that blurry blue rectangle? No, that’s a lilo. Going anywhere for longer than a few hours means remembering to pack sufficient contact lenses.
After 14 years of squinty apathy, I decide to do something about it. Having done some research on the topic, I opt for the Wellington Eye Clinic, based on its lifetime warranty for procedure and the global reputation of its chief ophthalmologist, Dr Arthur Cummings.
The first step is the consultation, where I meet with Dr Cummings. A soft-spoken South African who has made Ireland his home for the past 20 years or more, he’s one of the most enthusiastic people you’ll ever meet, and was recently voted one of the top ophthalmologists in the world.
Dr Cummings goes through the procedure step-by-step, breaking it down in layman’s terms for the medically challenged like myself, and recommends that Lasik would be the best course of action for me.
This is the squeamish bit but don’t look away now, as you need to know what’s involved.
Basically, a thin flap is cut in the cornea either using a tiny blade or a laser. This is then folded back and the surgeon removes some of the corneal tissue using an excimer laser. If you’re nearsighted the cornea needs to be flattened, if you’re farsighted a steeper cornea is needed. The flap is then put back in place and heals naturally.
I know thinking about anyone touching your eye is horrific for most people, but it really does sound far, far worse than it actually is.
On the day of the procedure itself, after a few final tests, it’s time to head to surgery. I sign the appropriate forms and numbing drops are placed in my eyes. I meet with Dr Cummings one last time outside the theatre, where he goes through every step of the procedure once more, right down to how long each eye will take and what I will see and hear throughout the entire thing.
Gowned up, I’m invited to lie down on the operation table, and after a brief moment of regret at not taking the proferred Valium, we’re off. The entire procedure takes less than ten minutes and is genuinely no worse than a trip to the dentist. The most uncomfortable aspect is when the incision is made – with air bubbles! – and even that just feels like there’s some grit in your eye for about 20 seconds.
The actual laser part takes 12 seconds for my weaker left eye and eight seconds for my right – a life-changing experience in 20 seconds flat.
No sooner is the procedure started and we’re done. I’m helped up off the table, and immediately I can notice a positive difference in my distance vision, albeit through a haze.
Afterwards, I’m left to relax in a dark room as I wait for my lift. My eyes start streaming and a nurse appears out of the fog to administer more numbing drops and the protective goggles I’ll have to wear for the rest of the day and every night for a week.
Once home, I take the prescribed sleeping pill, another few of those magical numbing drops and nod off. I wake up three hours later confused as I feel I’ve fallen asleep with my glasses on, as my sight is perfect. But reaching up to my face, I feel the stylish goggles and remember.
The sensitivity to light is gone and my eyesight is perfect - in fact, if it wasn’t for the slightly ridiculous goggles, I could join my housemates in going out for dinner.
For the first few days, I keep almost poking myself in the eye as I reach to take out my contact lenses – my brain is struggling to comprehend that I’m seeing this well without some type of aid.
Six weeks on, I report for my check-up to be told that my vision is better than 20/20. For someone that couldn’t see a person’s face from a metre away without glasses two months ago, it’s an extraordinary moment.
Now I spend an extra few minutes in bed before work each morning as I don’t have to find and put in contact lenses – that alone is worth the cost. Ah yes, the cost. For someone in their 20s or 30s, with almost two decades of excellent vision ahead of them before needing reading glasses, this one-off cost – starting from €1,520 per eye – is almost certain to work out cheaper than 20 years of contacts or glasses.
Discounts via private health insurers and tax rebates mean that the choice is as clear as 20/20 vision.
VISIT wellingtoneyeclinic.ie for more information and a consultation