:: Eye, Morland ::
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The first time I remember needing glasses was at age 14, sitting far away from the chalkboard in a French class where the instructor insisted on calling me Michel, unable to read his wispy writing.
This same instructor once engaged in what I can only describe as a soft-spoken tirade against the use of "no problem" as a response to being thanked. It was an emblem of cultural decline, to him, that "you're welcome" had fallen out of favor. He was a perfectly nice man, but sometimes I half expected him to remove a monocle from his vest pocket, begin to polish it, and lament somberly the disappearance of door-to-door fresh whole milk delivery.
The illegible-Français incident sparked a trip to the eye doctor, who informed me that I was a tad nearsighted, and should wear glasses for long distance viewing. When I turned 16, this meant driving as well. By the end of my first year of college I realized a stronger prescription was in order and scheduled an appointment for the summer. Armed with my newly effective specs and having no suave reputation to lose (my mother had submitted my picture to the freshman facebook alongside interests of "computers, science") I donned them full-time with the start of sophomore year.
I can't really say I minded wearing glasses all that much, but then again it wasn't something to which I ever fully acclimated either. In the realm of my physical enhancement dreams, decent unassisted vision sat somewhere in a broad spectrum between "less wavy hair" and "urine of gold bullion". A number of solutions existed, but either I or the technology was too immature, or - since most insurance companies consider anything beyond contacts and glasses to be a cosmetic procedure - I didn't have the spending cash. I watched and waited.
Then almost without warning the perfect time came. While I'd been doddering about, LASIK had established a fifteen-year track record as a safe and worthwhile procedure for candidates such as myself. Several friends and acquaintances vouched thus. My eyes and my bank account had both matured modestly, and I was left with no excuses for delay.
So here I am 24 hours after the procedure (an example of which I recommend watching here, unless you plan on having it done yourself) one day into a months-long healing process with no side effects beyond a little harmless, if aesthetically disturbing, ocular bleeding (but hey - you can't make an omelette without a little subconjunctival hemorrhaging) and the knowledge of what it feels to have a tiny oscillating blade apparatus rest on, and slice through, one's cornea. As I understand it my vision will fluctuate in the upcoming couple weeks, but should stabilize at or better than 20/20. So if modernity brings a few "no problems" along for the LASIK ride, I think it's a fair deal.
And I was told not once, but twice that I have unusually big, beautiful eyelashes, so I'm going to remove that one from the physical enhancement list.
Side note: I really wanted to entitle this entry "I've got laser eyes" in reference to Sifl and Olly, but it seems to have been already taken for the exact same purpose.
Posted by morland @ 10:58 PM
:: Comments ::
laser eyes, sure...but do you posess the curiosity?
Posted by: drg on July 27, 2006 12:23 AM
i knew a girl in college who unknowingly had her facebook dealie written by her dad. her interests were weight lifting and wrestling. it was amazing. then she transfered after a year. who knows why? oh yeah, to go to a division 1a women's wrestling program. i just made that very last part up.
Posted by: a superhero by night on July 27, 2006 12:54 AM
So like you not to tell anyone and us only find out by reading your website that you had surgery.
Posted by: cristina on July 27, 2006 07:47 AM
I don't think I have seen your eyes that red since college - of course I am refering to the time that you "awoke" after a nigh sleepless night spent rolling around in a sleeping back that was not made for the winter camping conditions we encountered on our grand canyon expedition. I implore you to catch the next "red-eye" to Narita that we might party without wearing glasses. I guess I should tell you at this point that seeing you without your glasses kind of freaks me out. It seems very wrong to me that you will be permently unable to push them back up onto the bridge of nose with your index finger after elucidating some point regarding computers, astronomy, the human mind etc.
What tic will replace your proclivity for straightening your glasses every five minutes?
What's next, shaving off your hairloaf so that it need not be loving shaped with your thumbs?
Soon you will tell me that you have rid yourself of your closet and sought out a more conventional sleeping place...
I am very sad about this.
Posted by: Noga on July 27, 2006 09:39 AM
no worries, mr. spernoga...mike has his peyas to play with now. the twirling of his hair scrolls is an acceptable alternative to the doh-doh-doh, replacing unsurpassed nerdiness with a hint of girlish playfulness. how fitting that we can now enjoy his long, lush eyelashes unobstructed by wire frames.
soon the transformation will be complete.
Posted by: drg on July 27, 2006 12:46 PM
wow, that video pretty much involves my worst nightmare. i had to stop watching shortly after the eye was stabbed repeatedly by the circular thing - wtf?!
glad it went well.
Posted by: sarah k on July 27, 2006 04:42 PM
I'm actually not sure what the circular thing is... for my procedure it was replaced by a large suction ring which caused my vision to temporarily go black. The rest was the same though.
The rest of y'all be lash-hatin'.
Posted by: morland on July 27, 2006 05:01 PM
Dr G--you are slipping from no longer toiling at a Jewish institution. Its not peyas, but rather payos or peyos.
Mike's are cultivated lovingly, and I encourage them to be displayed openly. Why hide your light under a bushel basket?
Posted by: cristina on July 27, 2006 07:05 PM
If the brillo pad goes, we're no longer friends. Stop the transformation, I say!
Posted by: choistein on July 28, 2006 12:22 AM
- Post a comment -
« What he meant was: Coney Island is actually a peninsula |
| On sail »