Laser eyes: there comes the light

Luise Heine has been an editor at since 2012. The qualified biologist studied in Regensburg and Brisbane (Australia) and gained experience as a journalist in television, in the Ratgeber-Verlag and in a print magazine. In addition to her work at , she also writes for children, for example for the Stuttgarter Kinderzeitung, and has her own breakfast blog, “Kuchen zum Frühstück”.

More posts by Luise Heine All content is checked by medical journalists.

No more glasses, no more contact lenses - the promise of laser surgery for the eyes is very tempting. Our editor Luise Heine was seduced - and saw the light coming ...

“Who wants a sedative?” Asks a blonde operating room nurse. My hand shoots up. It's 4:30 p.m., I'm sitting in a darkened waiting room at a Munich eye Lasik center. And I want drugs! Days before that, I was comforted by the thought that medication would dampen my feelings when I put my eyesight into the hands of the eye laser surgeon. It smells like disinfectant in this place where I want to sharpen my eyes.

My starting chapters are shortsighted with almost seven diopters - this means, as a translation for those who do not wear glasses, I have to hold a book page about six centimeters in front of the lens to be able to read it. The world without a visual prosthesis consists mainly of colored dots. Advantage: I always remember where I put things so that, if necessary, I can feel them without a visual aid. I only need to put my glasses on and off to know that the before and after effect of the operation will be enormous.

Does it hurt?

While I turn my glasses frame in my hand in the waiting room with increasingly dry mouth (I had to wear them for two weeks before the operation. My suspicion - you should be reminded clearly again why you are taking the risk), various things are going on me through the head.

“It doesn't hurt, no,” the ophthalmologist assured me, who was going to play around with the laser on me. "Only the suction cup is a bit uncomfortable." Suction cup? I am informed: a ring is placed on my eye, a negative pressure is created so that I can no longer twitch with it. A laser then cuts horizontally through the cornea in order to create the “flap”, i.e. the almost severed corneal layer that is later to be placed on the treated area again - like a cover. Hard to imagine that it won't hurt.

But actually, as my friend Kerstin, who was lasered a few years ago, told me: "The most uncomfortable thing for me was the clipping of my eyelids." That doesn't sound entirely harmless. The eyelids are prevented from doing their natural function, blinking, with metal clips. That is of course a good thing, who would like to have a pattern burned into the delicate eyelid skin? I sigh deeply. I'm not good at waiting and feel like I'm on my way to the slaughter.

Twenty minutes isn't long - actually

The lady who waited with me (and got the happy pill) at the same time is taken out. I'm sorry for her. The pill doesn't work for me yet - my hands are still wet with sweat, my heart is pounding wildly. But at least she's over with it.

"The whole operation does not take longer than 20 minutes - after that you can go to the rest room and you can go home again," the OP doctor assured me at the preliminary appointment. 20 minutes - that's how long the subway ride from Goetheplatz in Munich to Fröttmaning takes. It's a bit shorter than a dandelion show. But right now it seems endlessly long to me.

By the way, the circulation can become slack

Then the time has come: “You can give me the glasses”, the tablet woman holds out her hand, demanding. Go almost blind to the operating room? I was hoping I would at least see what was coming. But no, the lady is adamant and reassures me that everyone will take good care of me. A small commotion can be heard outside the door as she hands me green overcoats for my shoes. The freshly vicious lady broke down, needs the circulatory drops.

“Yes, that can happen,” the doctor informed me beforehand. "If the tension suddenly subsides, then some get problems with their circulation." As a precaution, I'll also order a portion of drops for myself. “I still don't feel calmer,” I explain anxiously. Oh, the pills are for afterwards, I find out, so that I can sleep well? Great! I swallow, but now there is no turning back.

Swinging to the laser

I am led to a lounger. First surprise, it is free-swinging. And, a voice explains to me, can be swung from one laser to the other. Because the laser that makes the flap is not the same one that removes the calculated corneal layer underneath. Somehow I was expecting something like a computer tomograph, where my extremities are held in place with iron bands.

Something big and green is coming - I am completely covered with an operating room tarpaulin. Only my eye remains free and restlessly tries to grasp something of the shadow play above him.

Clamps and suction ring - fortunately not to be seen

After getting anesthetic drops in my eye in the waiting room, the second batch now follows. It burns briefly and the view turns yellow. “Can you still feel that?” Asks the surgeon, running a tiny plastic rag over my eye. Yes! So another drop shower. I practically do not notice that the eyelids are being clipped open. I don't see anything. It doesn't hurt and is not uncomfortable - the wire brackets will ensure that I have a bruise in my eye for several days afterwards - a visible sign of my bravery.

Then it all happens in quick succession. "Now comes the suction ring." I see a shape coming towards me and it presses on my eye. It's certainly not pleasant, but my vivid imagination had feared something far worse. “I'm going to drive you under the laser that's supposed to cut. Please look into the red light. " The pressure on my eye increases slightly, it gets loud as the beam of light begins to work. "I now fold the flap to the side." Where there was reasonably bundled light, everything suddenly becomes diffuse. Hui - with a swing I am promoted to the other laser.

There's a rainbow there!

“We are laser now. Nine, eight, ... ”- A voice starts counting down the seconds and a rainbow explodes in my eye. Nobody prepared me for that. But I think it's nice. At the same time you have the feeling that small sparks are flying, like with a sparkler. And in itself it is also something wonderful - to be able to see normally again with a small operation. The laser man folds the flap over the wound surface again, smooths it out. And the procedure starts all over again.

Puck the housefly

Past! With my eyes closed, I am seated on a sloping-backed chair. The doctor gives me a quick look before sticking two transparent plastic covers over them - this keeps the eyes moist for healing. Puck, the housefly looks around carefully. But there is not much to see yet, streaks on the eye spoil the view - the plastic lids are starting to steam up. Fortunately, I have an escort who leads me to the taxi by the hand. When I got home, the stupid pills finally work and I sink into a dreamless sleep.

The next day I can say goodbye to insect life. I carefully remove the bandage. So this is what the world looks like - in sharp focus. Great! Book wall - no problem! House wall across the street - no problem! My eyes water with joy, or because they are still offended - it doesn't matter. However, somehow everything is brighter, almost like with soft focus - there are also a few streaks. Sunlight isn't my friend either - it bites my eyes. “That is completely normal,” assures the ophthalmologist at the check-up appointment a few hours later. I'm supposed to dress myself up in sunglasses for a few days and come back in three months.

One year later

It was almost a year since the eye surgery and I do not suffer from dry eyes or excessive night blindness and my cornea has not said goodbye. I rub eyes with you again with great pleasure - I didn't dare to do that about three months after the operation.

The only downer: the left eye still retained one diopter. With that I won a voucher for re-laser treatment. When the laser tamer explained to me, however, that he would manually cut the scar again and fold the flap to the side, I decided for myself: No, thank you. I'm glad it's over and I don't have to start all over again. And I don't even notice it that much - actually only at the very, very back of the cinema.

P.S. : My best moment after that? Always wake up again, feel for the glasses before I realize: Just turn on the light, you don't need the glasses anymore. And a rainbow rises in my heart.

Tags:  palliative medicine sports fitness laboratory values