I'm Still Waiting for My Miracle

Nobody wants to be an anomaly when it comes to medical matters, the kind of patient who prompts doctors to shake their head and say softly, "I've never seen this before."

I had followed advances in vision-correcting surgery for more than a decade. My eyes were awful. I had glasses as a young child, contacts as a teenager, but lately I could wear only an exotic and costly kind of lens. Glasses didn't work as well. Allergy season was a nightmare. And yes, I had always dreamed of being able to wake up and read the clock across the room, to swim and see who was hanging around poolside. But I was also apprehensive--bad eyes are better than worse eyes, and there were some early horror stories.

Then lasers came on the scene, with little but rosy reports. I began to think it was time. I went to three doctors to be sure I was a good candidate. I called every friend-of-a-friend who'd been through it; all were elated, except one worrisome soul who developed a scary condition called "Sands of Sahara." But my doctor, a respected and decent guy, soothed me, told me I'd be fine. He pulled out the charts of his many delighted patients, saying he'd sent more than 200 to have it done. The LASIK surgeon he sent me to, perhaps the most experienced in the Washington area, has reshaped thousands of corneas.

I was more excited than scared. The procedure wasn't painful. It was over in 10 minutes. It was worse for my husband, who watched close up on a TV monitor and said it was almost as bad as watching my caesarean. I went home, took a nap, woke up--and could see the clock across the room. At the doctor's the next day, I was seeing 20/20 with my left eye, 20/40 with my right.

But instead of getting better, as my doctor predicted, my vision worsened. I was told my corneas were extremely dry, and I should apply artificial tears every couple of hours. Then the surgeon was called in; he suggested I use the drops more often, about every 15 minutes. This wasn't especially practical for a journalist--no interviews longer than a quarter-hour and never mind the eye makeup, among other things--but I tried to stick to the schedule. It didn't do the trick.

Next we tried plugging my tear ducts (outgoing, not incoming) to keep my eyes moist. A little improvement, which reversed when the temporary plugs dissolved. Another round hasn't helped much. The next step is permanent plugs, supposedly to create a tighter seal. I'm still soaking up bottled tears like an ocular desert and putting moisture goop in my eyes every night.

And that's where things stand now. It has been two months since the surgery. My doctors keep saying they're confident my eyes will improve with time--but they also say my experience is extremely unusual (one of them says he's never seen this problem in anyone else), so I'm not sure they know what will happen. A third doctor I consulted said there was nothing wrong surgically, and he too thinks my condition will get better.

But here's the worst part: my vision now can't be improved, except marginally, with glasses. The problem is on the surface of my eye, which isn't what lenses correct. One doctor likens it to scratches on the crystal of a watch. My eyes were always a little dry, but nobody seems to understand why they now need dramatically more moisture.