What I saw during Lasik Eye Surgery

I just experienced one of the more extraordinary things in life, Lasik eye surgery. After more than 20 years of corrected lens wearing, I now have 20/20 vision. Science is real.
Here are some drawn and digitally altered images in attempt to recreate what I saw through the steps of surgery. While I had anesthetic drops in my eye so I couldn't feel any pain, I was awake and still able to see what was going on.
The hardest part was anticipating bright lights coming into your eye and not being able to blink.
After taking numbing eye drops and lying on the exam bed, the machines moved into place over head and bright lights zoomed in on my face. The surgeon placed a patch on my left eye and a speculum opened my right lid, clockwork orange-esque and there I went...toward the light.

Then, I presume, they suctioned my eyeball because I lost partial vision but could still see the ceiling lights in my peripheral vision. The strangest twinkles of blinking blue and green dots appeared for a few moments across the black patch. I read on another blog that those are blobs of your veins???
I think this is where they cut open my cornea as well. I felt pressure and encouraging words of "Good job, Jean" from somewhere behind me. Then I saw a green dot coming towards me in between red dots. I was told to keep looking still at the green dot. Or maybe this happened before I lost vision for a few moments? I can't remember already. Maybe it reappeared?
  There were a few fleeting moments of a faint burning smell that I was told beforehand is NOT my eye burning, but the intensity of the laser machine. Then, they folded my cornea flap back in place and I think added some fluid to the surface of my eye. It looked like someone was brushing clear nail polish over my eye and lightly dabbing here and there.
 
Then they repeated it on the other eye. After less than 10 minutes, I sat up from the bed and they asked me what time the clock said. I could read it just fine.
I was driven home and took a long nap. The end. Now I walk around smiling at everything! Absolutely Amazing!
Did I mention science is real?

The Looking Stool

In my art room, all of the stools are painted by students from years past. When a stool painting starts to fade or get chipped away, it is taken out of rotation and someone from art club usually paints a new design. These stools become well-known icons in the room. Some students race into the room so they can sit on their favorite stool. They are, in effect, putting their bottom on the very image that they adore but they want to "have and to hold" that stool for the 45 minute class period. There are several students that love the Batman stool in particular. The only problem is that the bat logo has completely worn off. There are no signs of Batman anymore. It must have never had a sealant coat put on it. Nevertheless, the stool is still coveted. They race to get close to the Looking Stool, to an invisible image.  I guess it is why we stare at historic plaques and gravestones. It's just enough to recall an image for us that was once there. And it seems we humans want to get close to our images. 

Here is a short talk by the artist Lynda Barry about the power of the image:

Learning to see the subjunctive.

Back in a Virginia cemetery in...2008, was it?

 In the words of my former Spanish classmate: "The cemetery is a great place to learn the subjunctive." "May you rest eternally in peace...We desire that you go with God... May you fly on wings to heaven where I would one day meet you..."  I was pretty psyched to improve my Spanish in the cemetery, particularly the elusive Spanish subjunctive, because we all know how much I already love the cemetery. You might recall the great road trip to Virginia with my dear friends, Natasha and Stacie. We played a few tunes in front of the Stanley Brothers graves...oh, and don't forget that I made a whole calendar of Famous Chicago Graves. Oh, the memories...See them all at my now obsolete-"gathering-cyberdust"-blog here: http://jeanfitz.wordpress.com/category/cemeteries/
OK, back to Mexico.
I did, indeed, dip my toe into the subjunctive while browsing the rows of graves in the local cemetery here in Oaxaca. For the extra curious, you can gawk at my largely out-of-focus photos on Facebook, capturing some of the great parades, festivals, and art everywhere you look this time of year.

What I really want to talk about though is learning a language and how getting sick abroad is HARD.
It might not be "getting pepper sprayed in the face" hard but...it's hard. Just when I thought I was getting over the epic Guatemalan adventure with bugs and feeling normal, I started to feel crumby again. My same eye started to itch and get puffy again, too. My Spanish teacher recommended that I try an ointment that was supposed to work wonders. I took her advice and went to the corner store. I immediately applied the cream, Terramicina, onto my eye as directed by the sweet lady behind the counter who is probably not a pharmacist. After a shallow internet search later that day, I learned that in the U.S., Terramicina was only approved for cats and dogs by the FDA. In California, you need a prescription to give it to your pet.
In Mexico, you just need 80 pesos.

Essentials

In the next couple of days, I woke up with the tell-tale signs of pink eye. I did not rationally conclude: “I have pink eye.” Rather, I assumed that the mythical bot fly had burrowed its way behind my eye and began eating away at the part of my brain reserved for conjugating verbs in the Spanish subjunctive. Either way, I resolved to seek legitimate medical attention. I went with my proverbial tail between my legs and my actual doggie eyeball cream regretfully in tow to help describe my saga. So you know how it can be difficult to communicate how you feel to a doctor in your first language? Well this doctor visit in a foreign language, my friends, is when all of my Spanish was put to the test. These were no longer pronoun exercises and small talks on your favorite movie stars in Spanish class. This was a "What are these drugs going to do to my body and why?" kind of chat. I think we communicated the essentials. Whether this second ailment had any connection to the bugbites in Guatemala remains unclear.

So I got the drugs and returned home. From there, I passed the time reading about international pharmaceuticals and video taping lizards crawling across my ceiling. I also brushed up on my tenses and began comparing English and Spanish tenses from an evolutionary standpoint. Did the future perfect continuous become necessary for our survival as a species?
- I will have been eating that dead wooly mammoth when the lions try to eat our children. -for example, is a rather complex but perhaps vital statement to communicate. You don’t want your fellow tribe member to assume your action of eating has finished and you are in any shape to protect your offspring or do the next important survival skill...like the Spanish subjunctive.

What I do know is that thousands of years later, this lady called Saint Lucy became your go-to gal for all your eye problems. I just learned about her in the museum the other day. Maybe if you put a few pesos in the hole carved out of her chest, she'll make sure your eyeball problems get better. Man, I wish I had known about her BEFORE I bought the doggie eye cream or got bit in Guatemala. Here's looking at you, Santa Lucia! I'm thankful I still have my eyesight!!!

Just a couple of eyeballs on a plate belonging to Santa Lucia, patron saint of eyeballs.