Sentient
We’re at Philosophy Forums. My turf is Politics and Law. You would be a wonderful addition to the community if you cared to participate. It was a bit strange for me because, as you know, I have no formal education. When someone PM’d me after I’d been there for a few weeks, asking for assistance with his master’s thesis, I realized I’d found a second home.
We have discussed the modal ontological argument, for example, for about thirty pages spanning three threads. (That was in Mysticism and Religion.) One day, I popped open a thread in Off-Topic and saw that I was among candidates being considered for moderator. I won the vote (apathetic though it was).
The weirdest thing, probably, was receiving my mod login instructions and finding in the super-secret forum comments about me from before, as the mods had discussed me among themselves. It was a bit spooky, sort of like hearing your own eulogy.
And yes, the surgery went very well. My vision is now 20/20 in one eye and 20/15 in the other. My wife’s is also drastically improved. She went from 20/400 and 20/180 to 20/30 and 20/25. But hers is still improving daily. Her surgery took much longer than mine. Mine was 16 seconds and hers was 42 seconds. Hers will require more time to heal.
The whole experience was kind of surreal. After being scanned by a machine that mapped my eyes, they were numbed by drops. I lay in something like a dentist’s chair and they put things on my eyes to hold them open. Then they put something on them that they said would cause me to feel “some pressure”. Damnation! It felt like Bret Favre was squeezing my eyeball like a pigskin he was desparate to throw. My sight blacked out completely for a few seconds and then returned. I didn’t feel it when the surgeon sliced my cornea, but I did smell burning flesh when the laser started its tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat…
So long as the cornea flap was open, all I could see was bright whiteness. When I sat up after the operation, it was like I was looking through murky sea water. I thought, ‘what the hell have I done?’. I couldn’t see diddly. Sitting in the waiting room while my wife had hers done, I could barely see the face of the man beside me. Everything was a blur of light and shadow.
They gave us special goggles and a valium, and told us to go home and nap for two hours. (My sister gave us a ride there and back.) At home, I closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep. When I woke up, I could read the spines of books from across the room. I woke my wife. She opened her eyes and looked at the clock. She shrieked, “I can see!”. We both ran outside and oogled at everything. We pointed out birds to each other in the distance that we both could see. We were like children at Christmas. It is a wonderful thing.