When Seeing IS Believing
The Peek Perspective on LASIK/SMILE Experience
I can remember the exact day when I realized my vision wasn’t accurate.
It was 1994, and I was at the State Swim Meet, as a competitor on the Perry Piranha Swim Team. (Yes… piranha… the vicious predator fish. Though at the age of 9, I looked anything but vicious - with my long, skinny limbs, skin so fair it was nearly translucent, and wide blue eyes, just eager for my heat number to be called up for my turn to swim…)
It was an all day event. So between races, the entire team sat with our families at the top of the stadium seating in this aquatic complex. I was living my best 9 year old life snacking, listening to music (on my Walkman, no less), and flipping through my American Girl magazines as I awaited my turn. A white board situated right next to the pool listed the numbers of the upcoming races, which were correspondingly tattooed on every swimmer’s arm in black permanent marker.
A state qualifying back stroke and relay swimmer, I was eager for my turn to swim. Every 20 minutes or so, I would leave my post at the top of the stadium seating area, walk all the way down to the pool deck, check the white board against the numbers on my arm, and then return to my family and teammates. I began to do this over and over, when my parents finally asked what was going on. Was I anxious, they wondered?
“No, I’m just going to check the races to see when I’m up…” But why did I keep getting up to do that? Why not just look down from our seats and check the white board? “Oh, you can’t read that from here!” I insisted.
It turns out, everyone else could see it but me.
Exactly 30 years later, I walked into a vision correction center. Fumbling for glasses each morning had long been a part of my daily routine, and putting in contact lenses was basically no different than brushing my teeth. It was just part of life, so why change now?!
Well, I guess I still plan to live a long time, and something about turning 40 this year is inspiring me to finally do the things I’ve been putting off…like LASIK. I qualified for SMILE, which is the smaller incision and faster recovery version of LASIK - but an eye is an eye, and surgery is surgery, so these nerves were a little anxious walking in.
After being a healthcare professional for 15+ years, I’ve seen some things in medical settings that make me nervous any time I’m on the patient side of the equation. When I shared this with my surgeon, he smiled and identified with my need to ask and verify all the things. He admitted being a patient was difficult for him too.
It turned out, he said, my only job would be to stare at the green light and not move. He would do the rest. Oh, but what would happen if I did move? I asked. Give me the medical worst case scenario before I go under that green light. I’m an Enneagram 1, Type A pharmacist who is naturally a rule follower… but what happens if I mess up?
So he told me, in detail, his surgical approach, worst case scenario backup plan, and the statistical numbers for all of it.
A few minutes later, after being placed in a heated massage recliner with a warm blanket and given Valium, followed by a round of eye drops (gentamicin, ketorolac, sodium chloride, and lubricant drops) I was feeling pretty okay about it all. So, I headed back to the OR on my pilgrimage to that holy grail of a green light.
After a round of numbing eye drops, that surgeon talked me through the ~15 minute procedure, a steady voice of calm reassurance. He also asked about my kids, shared about his own family, and then suddenly it was over. That green light didn’t move from my gaze. When I finally sat up, though there was a post-op haze, I could see the nurse holding up a sign.
And this time, I didn’t have to walk over to read it. I was overcome by emotion.
That little 9 year old Perry Piranha swimmer would have been astounded.
Sometimes, our vision betrays us. Sometimes, we think we see the world as it really is, but our perspective is off. And no matter how much we may insist or believe that our view of the world is accurate, it may not be. Sometimes, we need correction - steady, gentle, effective correction - to see the world as it really is. Many times, that looks like needing each other to help adjust our perspective - truly listening to each other’s lived experiences, fears, and questions. And it means trusting the hands of the Great Surgeon, to shift our focus so that we can see clearly.
Gratefully seeing and believing,
Dr. Peek
P.S. That surgeon asked if there was anything the team could’ve done better to improve my experience. “Well, there is one thing….” I said. He waited intently for my feedback. “A pedicure would have been a really nice addition in that pre-op heated massage recliner….” Didn’t I warn you I’m a tough patient?!