What’s it Like to Have Laser Eye Surgery in South Korea?

Why did I get laser eye surgery in South Korea?

I’m not going to lie; it was half the price of the same surgery in England. Does that mean it’s worse quality? Actually, no, quite the opposite. They have an excellent reputation for the state of the art surgery.

This is the case for a lot of procedures, and medical tourism is quite an industry. It’s very common and easy to access. Pretty much, everyone, I knew who wore glasses or contacts, left Korea without them. Some even had the feedback at the opticians back home that this was the best work they’d ever seen.

The procedure

My friend and I both wanted to get laser eye surgery. We book a double appointment for solidarity. They give us both special eye drops. One was an aesthetic so that we couldn’t feel the surgery’s effects, and the other dilated our pupils.

Our crazy pupils were nervously darting about like a pair of first-timers at a rave. The surgeon came in to call either one of us in.

“Ladies, first,” said Ryan.

“You absolute bastard.” I retorted, trying to walk into surgery bravely.

I lie down. My eyelids are clamped open with plastic grips. That horrible scene from Clockwork Orange pops into my head. I try to push it aside. The surgeon tells me to relax and concentrate on the blue light above me.

Sure, relax and look at the blue light. How hard can that be? I’m the opposite of relaxed. I start thinking,

“Oh my God, what would happen if I looked away, even for a split second. Would I go blind?!”

“Relax,” says the surgeon. “OK,” I quiver as I try to let go of my woman in labor style grip on the operating bed. I repeat the mantra in my head, “Blue light. Blue light. Blue light.” I’m so paranoid about the possibility of looking away by accident.

It is so bright. I can smell burning meat, and it smells like someone forgot about the BBQ. It takes me a second to register that the smell is coming from me. That’s the smell of my eye burning. It makes me feel a bit sick.

They scrape the outer layer of the eye with this scalpel. Then splash it with ice water. The whole thing must have only taken about 2 minutes.

I think “Oh, thank god, it’s over. It’s over. It’s over! I made it!”.

The surgeon then exclaims: “OK, now, it’s time for the second eye.”

God damn it, I have to do it all again. I am lead back out to the waiting room. Ryan asks me, “What’s that burning smell?” and I laugh, and I say, “I bet you wish you went first now, don’t you?”

The recovery

My ex comes to pick us up in a taxi, and despite the eye mask with sunglasses on top, the sun feels bright. It’s blinding.

They give us a lovely goody bag. Chocked full of antibiotics, anti-inflammatory, fake tear eye drops, and painkillers. “You should take one pain killer tablet per day,” the nurse says. Oh wow, I thought, only one per day, they must be powerful.

Later back home, the aesthetic wears off, and the pain starts to kick in, so I asked my ex for my painkiller of the day.

He opened the packet and says

“Oh, Georgie. I’m so sorry; you’ll never guess what’s written on these.”

“What?”

“Erm…Tylenol…”

“You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking. I take two of those for a headache.”

“I wish I was joking.”

“OH.MY.GOD!”

There is no amount of Tylenol tablets that will take away the pain of having a hole burned through your eyeball. I would describe the sensation as having shampoo rubbed in your eyes and then having them taped shut.

Ryan and I complained and complained non stop for the next two days. Laying down in a dark room and listening to enough podcasts to drive a person to insanity.

Back at work, I still had to wear sunglasses indoors, much to the amusement and laughter of the kids I taught.

The result

A week later, I had a 2020 vision, and life felt completely different. I couldn’t stop smiling! The world is in HD! This is what the world is supposed to look like! It’s beautiful!

If I could give anyone advice, it would be, talk to your doctor about pain medication before the procedure. I had assumed that they would give me strong pain killers.

I didn’t know this at the time but Koreans have a stoicism culture about pain medication. I’m told that they generally avoid it unless necessary. I would also advise having someone there to take you home and look after you for a couple of days.

Despite this, I would still recommend it. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. I can’t describe the pure joy of being able to see. A couple of days of discomfort for a lifetime of good eyesight is worth it. I am fortunate to have been able to have had LASEK. And if I went back, I would do it again. (But maybe without the one Tylenol!)

Thank you for reading! Hearts and tips are always welcome and your support is very much appreciated.

This story was originally published on Medium

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Georgina Nelson. Traveller. Writer. Photographer. Yoga teacher.

Sh*t Happens - because the things that go wrong make the funniest stories.