Virdi Eye Clinic

Patient's Point of View

Conquered fear leads to corrected vision
By Tory Brecht, Staff writer

Thoughts of dread and regret raced through my overactive mind as I lay on a couch in my dark basement for four hours, shades drawn against a bright winter sun.

"I let them cut a hole in my cornea. They fired a freakin' laser beam in my eye! I'm gonna need a cane and a guide dog.''

I'd had LASIK -- Laser-Assisted In Situ Keratomileusis -- eye surgery earlier that morning. Voluntary surgery. I was sure I'd made a huge mistake.

After the surgery, as I was leaving the Virdi Eye Clinic in Rock Island, a bit disoriented from 10 milligrams of Valium, and my vision hazy, Dr. Prem Virdi told me to rest in a dark room with my eyes shut for four or five hours.

Now I was afraid to open them.

The decision to have LASIK was not an easy one. The depths of my hypochondria and neurosis regarding medical procedures are well known and nearly immeasurable.

Two years ago, I went to a neurologist, worried that numbness in my arm was the early onset of Lou Gehrig's disease. Turns out a spill off my bike pinched a nerve in my neck.

In the past year alone, unfounded fears sent me to the doctor for a chest X-ray, asthma test and various pokings and proddings. All revealed I'm totally healthy.

Meeting with Dr. Virdi two weeks before the surgery helped. He said my eyes would be numbed before he cut corneal flaps, then folded them back, allowing the laser to reshape my nearsighted corneas. Then he would put the flaps back in place.

There'd be no anesthesia, and yes, my eyes would have to be open while the laser did its work. But a little Valium should ease the nerves.

On Friday, Feb. 6, my mother took me to the clinic for the procedure. (My wife had to stay with our daughter, who'd had her tonsils out the day before. Leave it to me to schedule surgery a day after my 5-year-old's.)

Because vision is blurry after the procedure and most people take a tranquilizer, LASIK patients aren't supposed to drive themselves home.

Susan, the nurse prepping me for the procedure, could not have been nicer. "You look ready. Not nervous at all,'' she said. "I'm a good actor,'' I replied.

Running through my mind were the ``advisories'' in the surgery literature -- obviously penned by paranoid lawyers -- informing me that everything from gummy, sight- robbing eye infections to night blindness were ``slight risks'' of LASIK.

Susan put a hairnet over my hair and handed me a glass of water and Valium tablet. Some antibacterial drops were put in my eyes and about 15 minutes later, I was led to the operating suite.

To a medical coward like me, it seemed like a scene from ``Alien Autopsy.'' I reclined directly under the laser machine, with the doctor and nurses behind me, creating the sensation of disembodied voices giving instructions. The lights were bright and the room gleamed with antiseptic cleanliness.

Dr. Virdi made the short procedure -- 10 minutes or so total -- as comfortable as possible. In a quiet, calm voice, he told me everything he was doing and the sensations I could expect to feel.

First, eye-numbing drops were placed in both eyes.

A microkeratome device, which felt like a small cup, was placed over one eye at a time. It held the eye open and created a tremendous vacuum pressure that slightly lifted the cornea, hardened its surface, and gradually blacked out vision.

That's probably a good thing, because the next thing I heard was the high-pitched whir of the oscillating mechanical blade that cut a microns-thin flap in the cornea.

Then I was asked to focus on a tiny red light while the laser reshaped my cornea. A nurse softly counted down the seconds until the clicking computer-directed Excimer laser shut off. It lasted about a minute.

Although scary, the procedure was painless. Weirdly, the only time I felt any sensation was when the microkeratome cut the flap on my left eye. It was roughly equivalent to closing my eye and lightly running a fingernail over the eyelid. Dr. Virdi said most patients feel slight pressure in the left eye, but not the right.

Then I went to a recovery room where everything was a bit hazy and too bright. Still, I was aware things were in sharper focus.

Susan told me to keep my eyes shut. Mom came in and we chatted for about 15 minutes, then I was sent home.

Back in my basement, four hours later, I screwed up the courage to test my new lasered peepers.

Across the room, on the stereo receiver, the glow of the LED monitor was no longer the blob of sickly green light it used to be without glasses. The 93.5 and a tiny "fm'' were clear as day.

It worked.

At my 24-hour follow-up exam, I tested at 20/10 in my left eye and 20/20 in my right. Dr. Virdi said more than 90 percent of LASIK patients see 20/40 or better right away, which is the requirement for driving without glasses in most states.

He seemed a bit miffed when I groused that having my left eye see so clearly made my right eye seem weak.

"20/10 is pretty rare,'' he told me. "That's a very good outcome.''

Considering my pre-surgery sight was literally off the chart -- I couldn't read the giant E at the top -- I had to agree. A lifetime free of itchy contact lenses, foggy glasses and groping half-blind in the middle of the night was over.

The last thing I did that night, before donning my protective sleeping goggles (which have to be worn for a week to avoid opening the corneal flap by unconscious eye- rubbing) was toss my various contact cases, saline and cleaning solution bottles in the trash.

I held onto my glasses though. They cost about $100 and I figure I can use a reminder that fighting fear is well worth the price paid in anxiety.


		Lasik Information (FDA Website) CK Information (FDA Website) A Recent Patient's Experience
	Patient's Point of View Conquered fear leads to corrected vision By Tory Brecht, Staff writer Thoughts of dread and regret raced through my overactive mind as I lay on a couch in my dark basement for four hours, shades drawn against a bright winter sun. "I let them cut a hole in my cornea. They fired a freakin' laser beam in my eye! I'm gonna need a cane and a guide dog.'' I'd had LASIK -- Laser-Assisted In Situ Keratomileusis -- eye surgery earlier that morning. Voluntary surgery. I was sure I'd made a huge mistake. After the surgery, as I was leaving the Virdi Eye Clinic in Rock Island, a bit disoriented from 10 milligrams of Valium, and my vision hazy, Dr. Prem Virdi told me to rest in a dark room with my eyes shut for four or five hours. Now I was afraid to open them. The decision to have LASIK was not an easy one. The depths of my hypochondria and neurosis regarding medical procedures are well known and nearly immeasurable. Two years ago, I went to a neurologist, worried that numbness in my arm was the early onset of Lou Gehrig's disease. Turns out a spill off my bike pinched a nerve in my neck. In the past year alone, unfounded fears sent me to the doctor for a chest X-ray, asthma test and various pokings and proddings. All revealed I'm totally healthy. Meeting with Dr. Virdi two weeks before the surgery helped. He said my eyes would be numbed before he cut corneal flaps, then folded them back, allowing the laser to reshape my nearsighted corneas. Then he would put the flaps back in place. There'd be no anesthesia, and yes, my eyes would have to be open while the laser did its work. But a little Valium should ease the nerves. On Friday, Feb. 6, my mother took me to the clinic for the procedure. (My wife had to stay with our daughter, who'd had her tonsils out the day before. Leave it to me to schedule surgery a day after my 5-year-old's.) Because vision is blurry after the procedure and most people take a tranquilizer, LASIK patients aren't supposed to drive themselves home. Susan, the nurse prepping me for the procedure, could not have been nicer. "You look ready. Not nervous at all,'' she said. "I'm a good actor,'' I replied. Running through my mind were the ``advisories'' in the surgery literature -- obviously penned by paranoid lawyers -- informing me that everything from gummy, sight- robbing eye infections to night blindness were ``slight risks'' of LASIK. Susan put a hairnet over my hair and handed me a glass of water and Valium tablet. Some antibacterial drops were put in my eyes and about 15 minutes later, I was led to the operating suite. To a medical coward like me, it seemed like a scene from ``Alien Autopsy.'' I reclined directly under the laser machine, with the doctor and nurses behind me, creating the sensation of disembodied voices giving instructions. The lights were bright and the room gleamed with antiseptic cleanliness. Dr. Virdi made the short procedure -- 10 minutes or so total -- as comfortable as possible. In a quiet, calm voice, he told me everything he was doing and the sensations I could expect to feel. First, eye-numbing drops were placed in both eyes. A microkeratome device, which felt like a small cup, was placed over one eye at a time. It held the eye open and created a tremendous vacuum pressure that slightly lifted the cornea, hardened its surface, and gradually blacked out vision. That's probably a good thing, because the next thing I heard was the high-pitched whir of the oscillating mechanical blade that cut a microns-thin flap in the cornea. Then I was asked to focus on a tiny red light while the laser reshaped my cornea. A nurse softly counted down the seconds until the clicking computer-directed Excimer laser shut off. It lasted about a minute. Although scary, the procedure was painless. Weirdly, the only time I felt any sensation was when the microkeratome cut the flap on my left eye. It was roughly equivalent to closing my eye and lightly running a fingernail over the eyelid. Dr. Virdi said most patients feel slight pressure in the left eye, but not the right. Then I went to a recovery room where everything was a bit hazy and too bright. Still, I was aware things were in sharper focus. Susan told me to keep my eyes shut. Mom came in and we chatted for about 15 minutes, then I was sent home. Back in my basement, four hours later, I screwed up the courage to test my new lasered peepers. Across the room, on the stereo receiver, the glow of the LED monitor was no longer the blob of sickly green light it used to be without glasses. The 93.5 and a tiny "fm'' were clear as day. It worked. At my 24-hour follow-up exam, I tested at 20/10 in my left eye and 20/20 in my right. Dr. Virdi said more than 90 percent of LASIK patients see 20/40 or better right away, which is the requirement for driving without glasses in most states. He seemed a bit miffed when I groused that having my left eye see so clearly made my right eye seem weak. "20/10 is pretty rare,'' he told me. "That's a very good outcome.'' Considering my pre-surgery sight was literally off the chart -- I couldn't read the giant E at the top -- I had to agree. A lifetime free of itchy contact lenses, foggy glasses and groping half-blind in the middle of the night was over. The last thing I did that night, before donning my protective sleeping goggles (which have to be worn for a week to avoid opening the corneal flap by unconscious eye- rubbing) was toss my various contact cases, saline and cleaning solution bottles in the trash. I held onto my glasses though. They cost about $100 and I figure I can use a reminder that fighting fear is well worth the price paid in anxiety.
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