So here is how it was for me...
7:30 a.m. Shower and wash my hair for the last time for a while (I will have to avoid getting water in my eyes for 2 weeks). I soak my eyelids and clean my eyelashes with diluted baby shampoo. The mild
blepharitis I was diagnosed with at my first consultation is surely completely gone now after doing this twice a day for the last couple of weeks - they look clean to me.
8:35 a.m. Leave home to drive the the Cambridge
Ultralase clinic, Missus alongside chattering about school. I think she was more nervous than I was. "Had I got my dark glasses?". Yes I had.
9:30 a.m. Arrived in good time for the 9:40 appointment. We're sat comfortably in reception and the Missus gets a coffee as I sip some water. I'm feeling a bit apprehensive now, but I'm determined to go through with it as long as the surgeon can answer my remaining questions. He might even turn me down for treatment. I would be quite disappointed by that.
9:40 a.m. My surgeon comes out of the consulting room and introduces himself. He is
Chris Stephenson who created the Cambridge clinic in 2002. It was
bought by Ultralase last year. We go into the consulting room for him to give me a final eye test, answer my questions and get me to sign the consent form. We talk about the possible outcomes of the operations and I ask him to quantify some of the risks for me. He is very reassuring and gives me straightforward answers to my questions. He explains that at my level of short-sightedness (nearly -8.0 in one eye and -6.0) and astigmatism, the technique is not quite as accurate as at lower levels of correction. So, as for the risks:
There's < 0.1% chance of getting an infection in the eye - the most serious risk of the procedure.About 10% of people operated on have prescriptions before surgery that are higher than mine.There's about a 5% chance that after surgery I will still need glasses for distance vision.I ought to be able to see well enough to drive after 2-3 days, but it could take a week or more.Yes I could have further surgery if necessary (under the lifetime guarantee) if the outcome is not accurate enough, but the amount of tissue that will be burned away will leave me close to the safe limit of thickness left so it may not be possible to operate further.I ask him to tell me a bit about himself and his experience, although I had already read up his biography on the website. He modestly reassured me that he had done more of these operations than he could count (the website says "more than 9000"). I was confident I was in the care of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. I sign the form and go and sit back in reception while he goes and gets the laser ready. The Missus looks puzzled. I explain that no I haven't had the treatment yet, just the pre-surgery checks.
9:55 a.m. An assistant dressed in blue surgical gown comes and collects me from reception. She asks if I'm OK to go ahead. Here we go!
It felt a bit like being in a science-fiction movie. I lie on the contoured couch between the 2 lasers and have anaesthetic drops put in my eyes. The first bit is the most uncomfortable. Eyelids are propped open and then it's under the first laser with the right eye. A cup and ring of pretty lights come down and press around the eye. The pressure is maintained for about a minute as the laser cuts the flap in the cornea. This is it - there's no point trying to say stop" now! I'm given a countdown of the seconds to go and reassured as we go that I am in an excellent position and it's going well. The surgeon carefully moves aside the flap and then it's under the second laser... There's no feeling associated with this at all. Just a pretty red pattern that goes all jiggly as the laser fires for 4 or 5 seconds at a time. As I had been told, I can smell a faint whiff like singed hair. 4 bursts of the laser and it's done and the surgeon carefully replaces the corneal flap and puts some drops in the eye. And then it's the same again for the left eye. I get protective transparent covers placed over the eyes and get up... just a little wobbly. And, even through the covers I can see!
I wave at the missus on my way back to the consultation room. The protective covers are taken off and already I can see way better than I could without glasses before. Chris inspects my eyes with quiet satisfaction at a good job done. He gives me my set of drops and covers and explains what I need to do - anti-biotic and anti-inflammatory drops need only be used every 4 hours (although the protocol says every 2 hours). A top up of anaesthetic drops and I'm done!
10:25 a.m. I'm back in the car with my new wrap-around sunglasses on my Way home. A mere 45 minutes from meeting the surgeon. I could scarcely believe it! Yes my eyes felt a bit sore, but no worse than after a session swimming underwater in a chlorinated swimming-pool. I keep my eyes closed most of the time, but when I do peek I'm amazed - I can read the road-signs. A bit fuzzy, but it felt good.
11:10 a.m. Home. Even with my shades, it's feeling a bit bright for my eyes now. I go upstairs to the bedroom and lay on the bed with the curtains closed to start catching up with the podcasts on my iPod. The anaesthetic is starting to wear off now and my eyes have started watering.
12:00 noon 2 hours after the operation. "It will get worse before it gets better", Chris had said. He wasn't kidding. Eyes streaming now, and my nose running as well. "What a time to get a cold, I thought". Now I can barely see a thing and can hardly bear to stay still. I feel the urge to drink lots of water.
1:00 p.m. 3 hours after the operation. The Missus checks up on me and asks if I'm all right. No. It hurts like mad right now, but I send her off to school after getting her to txt and call my boss. "It will be pretty uncomfortable for the first 4-6 hours", they said. I crave more darkness - the curtains are not very thick. I go and sit in the downstairs toilet and close the door - the only room in the house without a window. I keep the sunglasses on, but have to clean them every now and then as they fill with tears.
2:00 p.m. 4 hours after the operation. It's starting to ease off a bit now. By putting my pyjamas over my eyes I can reduce the amount of light to a comfortable level. Eyes and nose still running, but not so bad now. And now it's time for my eye-drops. I see myself in the mirror for the first time. Hmm. Yes. I see now why the Missus said I looked a bit scary. I tried photographing myself with my phone...
Not a great photo, but you get the idea. I look out the window into the garden. Oo it's a bit bright, but everything looks sharp! I can see almost as well as I could with glasses before already! Still getting the urge to drink water and as I pass the vegetable rack, I spot the lovely juicy carrots. Surely psychological, but I got the urge to nibble on one, and then another. Well it's a sort of lunch. And maybe it's also just psychological, but as I move around, every now and then I'm sure I can smell that singed hair whiff again. And I'm a bit wobbly and keep bumping into things - it's weird not wearing glasses, but it feels like wearing a new prescription for the first time.
4:00 p.m. 6 hours after the operation. I managed a bit of a snooze. Keeping my eyes closed a lot seems to be a good move. They feel much better now - a bit like having a case of conjunctivitis. And I can see. Distance vision is brilliant! As sharp as it ever was with glasses, although there is a bit of a smearing halo around things. But close-up vision is rubbish! Yes I need those reading glasses I got from Superdrug for £9.99 in anticipation.
6:00 p.m. 8 hours after the operation. The Missus and kids have come home from school and after-school club. I keep the dark glasses on as they come in so as not to scare them. The Missus tells them "Dad's not feeling well - behave yourselves". I explain I feel fine now. Back to being no worse than a bad dose of swimming-pool water.
8:00 p.m. 10 hours after the operation. I've tried the reading glasses. 5 minutes at a time is enough as it tires the eyes, but they work fine. I go outside and look at the stars and can see them without glasses for the first time in nearly 40 years. But bright lights have quite a halo around them. That will take several weeks to fade, or so I'd been told.
The Missus is in the study as usual.
"Answer Me This", I say to her (it's one of the podcasts I've been listening to) - "Why is it that a few minutes after I put my eyedrops in I can taste them at the back of my throat?". Well she is a science teacher. But she had to look it up. She showed my a picture of how tears work. Now i know why my nose was running earlier! Tears come down from the top of the eye and drain through the tear duct at the bottom corner into the nasal cavity. I didn't have a cold at all - just tears pouring down my nose!
9:00 p.m. I'm pretty tired now so head for bed. I get out an old airline cosmetics kit and tape my eye covers on, then put the airline eye cover sleeping mask over the top to help keep them in place. Wow! What a day!
Do you think Little W was feeling the cold wind at all? Then we carried on to Carding Mill Valley to climb up The Long Mynd. Here we are at the division of paths... 
...where we turned left up to the Long Spout waterfall.
...and even when we had our picnic we had a sheep in attendance...
Then it was on via a drive through Corve Dale to Dudmaston Hall. The banks in the grounds are great for roly-polys, and the little ones couldn't resist.
After touring the house we ended up in the old kitchen where they could all practise their drawing. Here's Little Miss in action...
My plan worked! It tired them out so much I had a very peaceful eveing to myself after they had gone of early to bed. Let's see if I can repeat the trick today. They are certainly struggling to get up this morning!
