An Escape from Lenses & Glasses
Experience with Radial Keratotomy or "RK"
Like most nearsighted people, I had worn glasses
or contacts since I was a kid. I'd heard a little about radial keratotomy,
but somehow it always seemed to be something for the future.
The prompting of a friend and a minor eyelid problem that was made
worse by a contact lens provoked me to action. I called my friend's
doctor
for a free screening and an opportunity to get answers to my questions—a
combination of being an informed consumer and reducing concerns.
Screening
The examination and a good medical history indicated that I was a candidate
for successful surgery. The doctor's answers, some of which are covered
in the accompanying sidebar, were reassuring.
Escaping from glasses began to shift from "maybe someday" to "why not now?"
The screening led to an extensive examination that combined elements
of a normal exam for glasses with special tests for RK. More questions
and I was ready, but my eyes weren't.
The little voice of reason in the back of my head was having serious
trouble with the thought of having a knife stuck in my eyes.
The doctor told me I had to stop wearing gas permeable lenses for two weeks
to allow the corneas to return to their normal shape. He introduced me
to a counselor who gave me additional information about the procedure,
a book and a video. We scheduled a preoperative exam on a Wednesday two
weeks in the future with surgery the following day. Since there was no
medical reason to make two trips, I asked to do both eyes in one session.
The preop exam on Wednesday was part repetition to check earlier findings
and part new. There was more orientation, another video and legal disclaimers
and releases.
I had a good night's sleep—the time spent in the orientations probably
helped. Thursday morning I was 80% excited and 20% nuts. The little voice
of reason in the back of my head was having serious trouble with the thought
of having a knife stuck in my eyes.
Getting Ready
At the doctor's office they gave me a gown to go over my clothes, booties
in place of my shoes, and a cloth shower cap with my name on a sticky label.
I sat in a recliner and the staff periodically gave me an anesthetic
in the form of eye drops—no needles. They took my temperature and occasionally
checked my blood pressure. A Valium was offered and accepted—that little
voice was full of reasons why this was crazy.
The doctor stopped by. He confirmed that I still wanted to do both eyes
today and then suggested a conservative approach, that is, any error would
be on the side of leaving me a little nearsighted. The procedure is based
on science, the surgeon's skill and some variables that reflect the uniqueness
of each human being. The conservative approach provides for those human
variables. He assured me that it is much easier to add more correction
than to compensate for an over-correction.
The Operation
I walked from the waiting room to the operating center and laid down on
the table. A turban and restraint on the table held my head still. A retainer
was used to keep my eye open and the process began.
The doctor asked me to look directly into the bright light above me.
There was occasional pressure on my eye and movement that briefly blocked
the light. I couldn't really see anything; eyes just can't focus that close.
The little voice was going nuts and the light seemed to bore into the back
of my eye. This wasn't pleasant, medical things almost never are. But it
didn't hurt. They washed my eye with a soft stream of water and then moved
to the other eye. That wasn't too bad. The second eye seemed to go quicker.
The light went off, the surgery was over and they helped me sit up.
I walked back to the waiting room. My eyes stung and they were watering,
but I could see. In the fifteen minutes since I went into the operating
room things had gone from a fuzzy blur to a teary sharpness.
My eyes felt as if I had just encountered fine dust with my contacts
in. If my contacts had hurt like this I would have waited a few minutes
and hoped the tears would wash out the dust.
A nurse offered me coffee and a Danish. After a little less than an
hour of observation I was pronounced fit to go home. They give me a pair
of dark glasses that looked like the ones Calvin wears when he is "the
intrepid spaceman Spiff" in Calvin and Hobbs.
Recovery
We drove home and I spent a leisurely day of napping and watching TV. I
began putting drops in my eyes every four hours whenever I was awake; a
process that would continue for the next three weeks.
Friday morning I drove to work. My eyes were gritty but they didn't
hurt. After a post operation check-up in the afternoon, we went to a movie.
Saturday we went sightseeing with out-of-town friends. I was very aware
of my eyes, but they felt much better. The little voice began to notice
how well I could see and was amazed I didn't have lenses in.
Three weeks later I returned for another exam. There was some under
correction so we scheduled an "enhancement" for the following Friday.
The little voice wasn't happy, but this time it wasn't nuts. Most of
the drama of the first surgery clearly come from uncertainty and the unknown.
The enhancement was not pleasant, but it went quickly. The recovery was
even faster.
The Results
I arranged for monocular vision with my right eye set for distance and
the left for reading. I have had contact lenses arranged that way for several
years and the last thing I wanted was reading glasses.
It has now been five years. My left eye is exactly as it is supposed
to be. The astigmatism is fully corrected and the eye is slightly nearsighted
for reading—the equivalent of bifocals. The right eye is fully corrected
for near sightedness but has a minor astigmatism. In bright light it is
20/20 but in low light, when the pupil opens up, it drops to 20/30. Not
perfect, but fully functional.
Worth it? Absolutely. One of the best investments I even made in myself.
Thirteen years later, by left eye has gone from 80/20 to 25/20 and I can see almost perfectly. My right eye still has just a bit of astigmatism so it is not quite as good. I now wear drug-store glasses for reading. I still consider this to have been a great investment.
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Reproduction in whole or in part, in any form, with-out written permission
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Forester's Home Page or Along the Way
Surgery August 5, 1993
Updated August 19, 2001
URL http://www.lpf.com/source/rk/index.html
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