Sara Harris Books . . . Where True Love Stands the Test of Time: A Lasik (PRK) Journey

GETTING UP THE NERVE

All the great stories of yore start off with the same hook . . . once upon a time. So I'll do the same with this story.

Once upon a time, I couldn't see. I was eleven and a cheerleader in sixth grade. I couldn't see the board at school, I couldn't see the tiny football players I cheered for, I couldn't see my parents or my friends, and perhaps most importantly (and I don't know why . . .) I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. You know, people always say things like, "It's so dark, I can't see my hand in front of my face!" Or, "The snow was so thick, I couldn't see my hand in front of my face!" Well, apparently, seeing ones hand is quite important . . . and unfortunately for me, I couldn't see that either. Suffice it to say, I was blind as the proverbial bat.

My sweet husband and me
on our wedding day
in our living room.
I'm sporting contacts.

So . . . over the summer between sixth and seventh grade, I got gigantic, huge, hideous glasses. But, they worked because, in true middle school fashion, I felt like I was pretty hideous, too. My folks opted to get the transitions lenses for me, so they were sunglasses outside and regular glasses inside -- which was cool. But when I got up the nerve to get contacts, which was not long after starting seventh grade, I did.

Tons of pairs of glasses, (some cool, some not) and probably millions of disposable contacts later, I went to the eye doctor in my new home of Katy, Texas and was told the same thing as I had been told since I was 21. "You are the perfect candidate for LASIK surgery!"

Well, my husband spoke very highly of LASIK, since he had the surgery himself back in 2008. He told me all about it in great detail . . . which actually scared me off because some of the imagery he called to mind sounded like a pivotal scene in the alien flick Red Sky at Dawn. He assured me there was nothing to be scared of and it was all over in a matter of seconds. But one of my best traits is that I can go from zero to flip out mode in no time at all -- which was exactly what I did.

"Nope, no, nada. Not gonna happen."

Until we were driving to San Antonio one day. I caught a glimpse of myself in the convenience store bathroom mirror. Now, I thought I'd looked cute that day in beach shorts and a tank top. We'd left the house late, so I didn't bother with contacts (which were getting increasingly difficult to deal with due to my apparent Hashimoto's Hypothyroidism-induced dry eye). Now, some people look great in glasses. In my opinion, I am not one of them. Several words came to mind -- hideous old hag being just a few of them.

Back in the car, an ad comes on the radio for a Dr. January and a special he's doing at his Lasik eye institute and the cheap amount per eye that was the lowest I'd ever heard. I JOKINGLY said, "I have a book started about a Dr. September, maybe it's a sign. Too bad this Dr. January is in San Antone and not Houston, or I'd go for a consult."

Guess where Dr. January really is. Ohhhh yes. He's TOTALLY in Houston.

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MAKING THE CALL

I kept my word and made an appointment, though I was so incredibly nervous. I stood in our hot garage and told the poor girl on the phone that I was coming in but I was terrified and she was welcome to whack me on the head with a mallet the minute I walked into the door. She laughed as though I was kidding. (I wasn't.) Since marrying my handsome blonde hubby, I have come to terms with the fact that I have some issues with anxiety. In talking them over with him, I've gone on to learn that two things spur my anxiety more than anything else.

1 -- the unknown.
2 -- worrying about the unknown.

And boy howdy . . . LASIK was as much unknown as I could get.

Goody goody gumdrops.
Glasses.

Just making the appointment for the free consultation was enough to make my throat tighten and my stomach turn up in knots. By the end of the call, the sweet phone girl was taking sincere pity on me. "I promise, we will take care of you," she said. And I believed her.

We made my appointment for two weeks out and I promised myself that I wouldn't wear contacts until then, since you have to be out of contacts for so long before surgery to allow your eyes to form back to their natural shape. So Sara the Sea Hag was stuck in glasses until the dread appointment.

APPOINTMENT DAY

Wesley, the blonde dude I married, and I drove into Houston for my appointment -- which was one of the last of the day. About 30 minutes away, we found an awesome kid-care place around the corner and left the four boys to play.

This first appointment was approximately three hours long, where they performed every test under the sun on my baby greens (baby greens? Okay . . . it works for baby blues . . . but baby greens sounds like little brussel sprouts . . . anyway, I digress). And, after having gone thirty-six years without having my eyes dilated, I had them dilated that day.

After the plethora of tests and a tentative procedure date for the day after next (that Friday), I learned that while my eyes were the perfect prescription for LASIK (myopic with -3.00 with astigmatism in both eyes) my thyroid issues were going to prove to be a problem.

"Hashimoto's is terrible," the O.D. said. "The surgeon (who was not going to be Dr. January, by the way) doesn't like to do the procedure on patients such as yourself."

That got me to thinking. Here, all my life, I've thought I could have LASIK someday, yet I've put it off. Now, the option may not even be there at all. I thought of Sara the Sea Hag. I thought of all the tons of plastic contacts I'd wasted over the years and wondered if they wound up in the ocean. I thought of how my eyes itched constantly and of how uncomfortable the contacts were anyway. Right there in that darkened waiting room, I made a decision. To gut up and do it -- then in 72 hours, I could burn my glasses in effigy. "But, you will give me something for anxiety, right? Like a mallet to the back of the head?"

I think they still thought I was kidding.