A bunch of folks were asking about my eye surgery, so here's the scoop, from beg inning to end:
    
November 23, 1999 10:49 am
Amtrak #1702, South of Vancouver, BC

I am less than two hours away from my surgery.  I keep peering over the top of m y glasses, trying to burn into my memory the blurriness that,
for a lifetime, ha s been the ugly stepchild of my physical make up .  I wish I could take a picture of what the world looks like through my
eyes at the moment: the soft edges around hard objects, indistinct swaths of color, identical faces, blurred round blobs of flesh pink.
What my eyes have meant to me for the past 20 years is a sense of lurking danger , my Achilles heel.  With glasses, my vision is corrected
to 20/20, but without them, I am helpless as a worm writhing on a wet sidewalk.  At any moment, a fast  closing door or a malicious hand could strip me of my ability to see.  I am a Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robot, a button on my eyes can blow me apart as easily as pressing.
    
    
November 23, 1999 4:00 pm
Tropicana Motor Inn, Suite 1201, Vancouver, BC

The surgery appears to have been a success.  I am sitting in my Vancouver hotel room, a bit blurry, but otherwise quite comfortable.  My eyes don't itch or ache, but the Atavan I was given has made me quite drowsy.
    
The procedure was relatively quick, 10 minutes for both eyes in all, but there w ere hours of tests beforehand (or at least hours of cooling my
heels in a waiting room beforehand.)

 
See the attached photo for a look at me under the laser (the needle is just the nurse goofing with me).
    
There was very little pain, as well. I lay down beneath a big, white machine that was the laser and placed my head in the a pillow with a
large dent to hold my head in place. I was given a drop to numb my eyes, then they taped my eyelids op en and applied an eyelid speculum so they couldn't shut. This part was more unnerving than painful.
    
Next he applied some sort of round, metal lifesaver-like object to my eye and pressed in.  This had the effect of making my vision go rapidly
to black.  Then h e cut my corneal layer with some sort of saw.  I could not see it because my vision  was black, but I heard its terrible whine.
Imagine the chalkboard scratch of  a dentist's drill, add to it the slight pressure and tickle of it on your eyeball, and then multiply
this by the jagged flying edges your imagination can produce when deprived of vision, and you've got the effect.  Fortunately, it was over
in a matter of seconds.
    
This concluded, he released the metal lifesaver and its pressure, so I could see  a bit again. I saw as he used some sort of thin metal tool to
lift my cornea aw ay.  The effect was of the world being slightly blurry, then suddenly getting much clearer, as the loosened top layer
was peeled back.  Of course, I could see w as the unique grainy pattern of laser light on my eyes.
    
For the next minute and a half, my nostrils were filled with the smell of my own  burning flesh, my ears with the crackling of the laser and
the call and responsee dialogue of the doctor and nurse ("20 seconds", "20 seconds, proceed").  Visually, it was a field of reds and greens,
rapidly shifting, coalescing into shapes  and then quickly dissipating into grainy chaos.
    
The second eye was more or less identical to the first.  It hurt a bit more when  he pressed in the metal lifesaver, and he confirmed that a
number of patients ha d the same experience, but couldn't explain it.  I was then escorted to a darken ed room where I lay with my eyes closed for approximately twenty minutes.  The Atavan they gave me at the beginning of the procedure had made me drowsy, so I do zed right off. When they woke me, I was on my way and told to return the next day.
    
At this point, my vision was pretty blurry.  I was supposed to wear dark glasses  whenever I was outside for at least three days.  My hotel was only a couple blocks away, so I walked there and fell promptly to sleep.  Before I fell asleep, m y vision was not much different than before the surgery.  Objects were a blur, plus there was a light haze over everything.
    
November 23, 1999 9:00 pm
Tropicana Motor Inn, Suite 1201, Vancouver, BC

Six hours after the surgery, my vision is beginning to come in.  Things are still blurry, but nearly as much so as before the operation.  I can
make out some words on the telephone book cover that is five feet away from me.  Previously, I could not have identified it as a book.
 
    
November 24, 1999 12:00 am
Tropicana Motor Inn, Suite 1201, Vancouver, BC

My vision is almost completely normal, just a bit of blur, like I was very tired  and had a bit of goo in my eyes.  No discomfort whatsoever.
    
November 24, 1999 9:00 pm
Tropicana Motor Inn, Suite 1201, Vancouver, BC
    
I woke up this morning thinking that perhaps the surgery had failed. Everything  was dark a blur.  Rapidly, however, I realized that this was
primarily to two factors: it was dark because the lights were out and the curtains pulled and everything was a blur because I had safety lenses taped across my eyes to prevent me  from rubbing my eyes in my sleep.  As I walk around my lovely hotel room, I fee l a bit nauseous and dizzy, but not violently so.  My vision is pretty clear, but all the lights have a haze around them, a bit thinner than a pinky width held
at arms length and certainly nothing I couldn't live with.  The doctor had warned me this might happen, and usually goes away in a few days.
In some rare cases  (<1%) it may be permanent, but I am not concerned, as I could live with it.
    
November 24, 1999 2:15 pm
Train Station, Vancouver, BC
    
Went to the eye clinic first thing.  My left eye is already 20/20 and my right e ye is 20/30. The doctor tells me there's a bit of swelling in
both eyes (normal)  and that my vision should settle down to 20/20 in both within a few days.  He also says that they appear a bit steamy
(normal, again), and this accounts for the halos that I see around lights.  These two should disappear within a few days.
    
Spent the morning shopping, but denied the freedom of being truly glasses-free because of the thick dark glasses (the kind the old ladies
with cataracts wear) t hat I must don every time I go outside. I am sticking carefully to the regimen o f eye drops they have set me up on,
as well.  Still, I am pleased.  I can't wait to take a swim.  I have dipped my Achilles heel in the laser fire and feel invincible...and a bit nauseated.