LASEK Eye Surgery in Korea (Part 1)

I finally took the plunge in January and had LASEK eye surgery. I'm sharing detailed info about the operation to help those who are considering the operation, especially fellow expats. Initially, the thought of someone lasering my eyes was...well, it just wasn't something I considered. Now, however, it has been over 3 weeks since the operation and I feel GREAT and can see more clearly than I think I've ever been able to in my life.

Why'd I Do It? 

Umm...because I wanted to see better! *casts aside sarcasm* Actually, I was setting financial goals for 2014 and realized that LASEK would pay for itself after 10 months because of the money I would save on contact lenses/glasses/accessories/vision insurance/eye checkups, etc. Also, South Korea has built an amazing reputation for its medical services and is a huge medical tourism hub. Finally, the price here is ridiculously low! You can have eye surgery, along with all the necessary checkups and medications, for far less than the price of having one eye done in the States. 

The Basics

LASIK, LASEK — what's the difference? The main differences between the two are the actual surgical procedure, pain, and recovery time. LASIK is by far the more popular option because it involves minimal pain and advertises a two-day recovery time. The surgical process involves the cutting of a thin layer of your cornea, lifting it to one side, and replacing it. There's one little problem: There is a very small chance that the flap on your eye could one day come undone if you happen to be, let's say, hit in the face by a tennis ball. Since I lead a fairly active lifestyle and am pursuing a career that may take me to various developing countries where I can't just walk into a surgeon and have that fixed, I opted for LASEK.

Now, that's done.

Where I Went

At first, I was hesitant about having what I perceived as a major medical operation in a foreign country, as my last experience with hospitals abroad (in Argentina) was...well, let's not go there. But after seeing my next-door neighbor and several other friends go under the beam (pun intended), I knew I could do it. After copious research, I decided to make the trip from Daegu to Seoul to have my surgery at Glory Eye Group in Gangnam. 

It's about 30 seconds outside of exit 12 of Gangnam Station.

One salient point about Glory Eye Group is that most everyone there speaks English well enough for you to conduct business. I mean, I speak Korean at a functional level, but I have no time for something to be mistranslated and to have my operation go wrong — you only get two eyes, after all — and specifically sought out a place where I wouldn't need a translator.

Ironically, this actually happened to me at a post-op
checkup in Daegu. Yay for linguistic clarity! 

The clinic had rave reviews, the surgeons trained at Harvard Med and spoke fluent English, and they were running a special sale to attract foreign residents, so I decided it was worth the two-hour ride to Seoul.

This clinic offered such an amazing deal, but I'll detail all that in the next post.

I went for my initial consultation in December, since I was making a trip to Seoul anyway, and knew that I had found the perfect clinic when an attendant brought me delicious organic juice (for free) as I waited. 

Initial Consultation

This went very smoothly. I went in and after a short wait, was called to an impressive row of testing machines in the back. If you've ever had an eye exam, you'll be familiar with some of the machines. The people at Glory have an assembly line of machines for you to go through, and you finish with the typical wall chart. You then meet with your surgeon, with whom you will make the decision for what type of surgery to have. If you have thin corneas, you'll be ineligible for LASIK and will have to have LASEK—sorry! Fortunately, I wanted LASEK anyway and my corneas are apparently some of the thickest in Korea (haha), so he told me I could have whichever surgery I wanted! After a cursory three-minute meeting, you set your surgery date and you're off! I knew I'd need time off, so I opted to return a month later during my vacation time so that I could properly recover. That said, they're perfectly happy to have you do your consultation at noon and then laser you up immediately afterward!

Oh, Korea, your efficiency never ceases to amaze me.

The Surgery

I returned to Glory with butterflies in my stomach...no, they were more like mammoth moths who were consuming me with a vengeance...as I thought about what I was about to undergo. However, the staff soon allayed my concerns as I went through the battery of optical tests again. The clinic was extra crowded on Jan. 9th, but even so, they processed us all quite quickly. After the tests, I went to the pharmacy to pick up my medicine and the first set of eye drops. 

*At the risk of sounding overly prosaic, I'm going to share what I wrote in my LASEK journal instead of recounting the story the boring way.*

On the first few days after the surgery, I wrote down everything that happened, so here's my LASEK journal:

As I sit in the pre-op waiting room, my heart began to beat out of my chest so loudly that I was sure half of Seoul could hear it. I decide to flip through the photo books on the table to seek encouragement from the faces of others who have completed the surgery successfully. I do this for about one minute, just long enough to note that most of the people pictured were staring out into space (not at the camera), seemingly transfixed upon some faraway object nebulously floating just past the photographer's face. They look dazed, confused. I put the book down.

A young woman emerges from the sliding glass doors to fit me with a surgical cap — that's when I knew it was real! I said several prayers and practiced breathing deeply for a few minutes to calm my nerves. Shortly, she calls me in for surgery. 

I lay prostrate on a surgical bed with my face under a machine producing a really bright light. A nurse applied some sort of cold numbing solution to the area around my eyes. It must have done its job because I felt zero pain during the surgery. My surgeon enters after a few minutes; I actually haven't noticed him because I've already started to doze off. Flanked by several aides, he gives me cursory instructions and then says that we'll get started. He puts a device on my right eye to keep it from closing. I don't like this contraption because it hurts a little in the corner of my eye, but it's not that bad. He proceeds to apply some alcohol solution and other things into my eye, and reminds me to keep my eye open (as if I could close it with that clamp on it!) and my chin straight because the laser is next. 

"It will last 20 seconds," he says

My job is so stare at the green light through all of this squirting, pouring, and lasering. The laser comes on and my heart thumps. I stare at the green light and the doctor gives me a countdown.

"15 more seconds...ten...five...one. Finished."

We repeat this process for my left eye, and the surgeon says, "The surgery was successful. Congratulations!" as he switches off the laser. I mumble my gratitude and follow him outside to slip back on my shoes (a struggle because I can't see the buckles). He says, "You will have pain 30 minutes from now, and then severe pain for the next two days. Take a rest." GRRREEEAAAT! 

We head back down to the lobby. My vision is ridiculously blurry and I can only just follow his tall shadow down to the elevator. I arrive downstairs and take a seat in front of the reception desk. I'm not fully sure what I should be doing at this point, other than "taking a rest."

My veins feel as if some thousand-degree liquid is coursing through them, my stomach has started to do backflips, and I feel as if I could vomit at any moment. An attendant comes over to put in the first of what will be countless eye drops. I'm grateful for this because I can't be trusted right now to bring anything within two feet of my eyes. "Are you sick," she asks. How did she know that I feel like this, I wonder. The feelings subside and I sit there in supposed recovery, wondering why I'm in the world's brightest lobby instead of a dark back room somewhere. I push the thought out of my mind and grab tissue from the bathroom to wipe my eyes, which might as well be Niagara Falls by this point. 

 I wait for half an hour, not in terrible pain but not exactly feeling like a million bucks either, and as I glance at my watch — a habit that's laughable at this point because I can't read the face well at all — I was met with a flash of pain through the eyes.

"30 minutes. He said the pain would start after 30 minutes." This made me consider the prospect of sitting in my hotel room in intense pain without attendants swarming around to help, so I head up to the pharmacy again to get some more pain medicine (it was just Tylenol, but it helped later). I wait in the same spot in the hopes that Jeff, the man through whom I'd set up the surgery and hotel stay, would appear soon. After what feels like an eternity but is actually only another half hour, a blue-suited man (I could at least see colors!) comes to my rescue. Jeff. I make my final appointment with the clinic, and Jeff and I head downstairs. He helps into a taxi, giving me the Eye Group card that would cover the cost of my first night in the room. Provista Hotel is on the same street as the clinic, so the ride is only 5 minutes. The taxi driver, who was obviously accustomed to driving surgery patients, gingerly warns me in Korean to move slowly as I get out of the car. Only when I pick up my small suitcase do I realize that I was a bit weak; it took some effort to lift the bag. I check in and head up to my room. I'm pleased to see...well, I saw it later...that my room is actually a nicely appointed loft studio apartment.

My hotel room. The best bed I've slept
on in quite a while. 

There's another bed upstairs!

Ten points for the kitchenette, complete with
pots and pans! This is basically the size of my
kitchen in Daegu, so I was right at home.

Quite tired by this time, I change into pajamas and doze off for three hours, but not before closing the curtains, which are allowing an extremely painful ray of sun into the room. I had taken off my sunglasses when I reached my floor, and the sun seemed to sear right through my eyes. IT HURT! I can't help but think that this is what vampires must feel like. I look at my phone for the first time, an act I immediately regret because this pain is five times worse than the sunlight. I navigate my phone by touch to call my mom and tell her that the surgery went fine before falling into a deep sleep wearing my flashy new sleep goggles, which are designed to prevent you from rubbing your eyes or irritating them during the night (I promise, they help).

They're all the rage in Paris these days! 

That's enough of my rambling. The second half of this post will cover the not-so-pleasant part: LASEK recovery!