Before I could complain, the doctor rushed in, popped my eyeballs out with a spoon, gave them a quick buff on a cheese grater, then spot welded them back in with a laser that burned a hole clear through my head and into the floor.
And just that quick, it was over. I could see. I couldn't wait to try out my new eyeballs. I went out to the car, where the Valium finally kicked in, and I slept all the way home.
OK, I embellished part of that. I only drooled most of the way home. The rest of it happened exactly the way Sonny and Larry told me it would. I took their word for it because they have both seen or had laser surgery done.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Whether it's laser eye surgery, a vasectomy or the removal of a wart, never let friends to whom you owe money tell you what it's going to be like.
Truthfully, it didn't hurt a bit. The most painful part was making the decision to have it done. I had to choose between it and a boob job. While the one would have given me something to do in church, the other was more functional.
The entire process began a month ago when I went to see James D. Sargent, an optometrist. It had been 15 years since my last eye exam, and it was time. Also, I partially melted one of the lenses in my glasses with insecticide. It's a long and illegal story.
Doc Sargent suggested the laser procedure. I wasn't sure. There's a bit of mad scientist to him. Also, he was banged up from a biking accident. I wasn't sure if I should take advice about my eyes from someone who clearly couldn't ride a bike.
Eventually Doc Sargent won me over by discussing my eyes in optometry words of at least eight syllables, although it could just as easily have been Chinese. Anyone who sounds that smart has been to some kind of school.
Before the surgery, my eyes were dilated to the size of supernovas. This was to examine them for disease but had the added benefit of making everything much brighter, including a couple of really dim friends.
Kevin Charlton performed the actual surgery. He was very thorough, explaining the process in such detail that I actually begged him to stop. I would have wept if my eyelids hadn't been stretched like swimming caps over the back of my head.
Personal participation amounted to staring at some bleary red and green lights. It was just like monitoring a traffic light with the help of tequila, only way more expensive.
Although highly complicated, the surgery is so quick and casual that family members can watch it. Some say it's far more difficult to watch than undergo. My wife had to go sit down.
It was over before I thought it had started. My eyes are fine now. They'll probably work just fine until I get a look at the bill.
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Tribune columnist Robert Kirby welcomes mail at 90 S. 400 West, Suite 700, Salt Lake City, UT 84101, or
e-mail rkirby@sltrib.com.
