I spent most of 2001 trying to wear contacts. It had been a decade since I'd last worn them and in that time there'd been many improvements and advancements. I figured it was just a matter of getting something to match my fairly sizable astigmatism.

When I had my first appointment, I was very optimistic. Roughly eight pairs of trial lenses--and two eye doctors--later, I was frustrated. While the prescriptions were correct, nothing fit quite right.

By this time I was back at the optometrist who had prescribed my first pair of glasses when I was 6, 30 years ago. He also fit me for my first contacts at age 16 (the rigid and uncomfortable gas permeable lenses). A couple years later, he switched me to toric lenses, which are soft contacts that balance in place after you blink to accommodate for the quirks of astigmatism.

I wore toric lenses until I got pregnant at age 26. At that point I was due for a new prescription but the eye doctor in Connecticut advised me to wait until after I delivered for a better fit. Expensive contacts seemed frivolous in the face of diapers, formula and other child needs, so I did without.

Ten years later I was running out of soft-contact options. I was so desperate I even gave the old gas permeables a try. Finally, it seemed that laser surgery was the only remaining option. Even if they couldn't correct for the full prescription, any glasses I'd have to wear would be feather-light and wafer thin. Perhaps even an average pair of soft contacts might work at that point.

That's why three days after Christmas I was heading for the Montreal office of LASIK M.D.

You may have read descriptions of LASIK surgery or seen one on TV. The process involves cutting a sliver of the cornea, making a hinged flap that is held back while a laser reshapes the underlying cornea. The surgeon is able to tell the laser how much tissue to remove and in what pattern to create the best vision based on the results of a battery of pre-op tests.

After two hours of testing the day before the scheduled surgery, they gave the OK to proceed. The only change to their normal routine was to require me to use a slightly more advanced piece of equipment--at a cost of $50 per eye--so that the initial flap could be thinner and, thus, leave more corneal tissue for the laser to work with.

I went back to the hotel and had a restful evening with my daughter and husband.

I wasn't really nervous. I'd read so much about it and talked with several acquaintances who'd also made the trip there for the procedure. I knew all the caveats and possible-but-unlikely complications.

No matter how I looked at it, the possible benefits outweighed the possible risks.

The next morning I was at the office at 7:45. The surgery was supposed to be at 8:45 but I didn't get in until after 10. When I finally saw the surgeon about 10 minutes beforehand, he seemed personable and explained that with my situation he recommended aiming for 20/25 vision. I'd hoped for better, but he was the expert.

I walked into the surgery room, which wasn't a sterile O.R. as I'd imagined, but simply a high-tech doctor's office. I took off my glasses one last time, lay down on the bed of the laser unit and prepared to hold still and stare straight ahead.

The surgeon calmly talked me through the whole procedure, first with the right eye, then with the left. He was very encouraging: "Whatever you're looking at, keep going. You're doing great."

It was quicker than I'd expected. In less than 15 minutes from the time I walked into the room, I was walking out. I spent more time in the recovery room--putting in lubricating drops and pampering my laser-zapped eyeballs--than I did in surgery itself.

When I was ready to go, I left with my green kit bag full of goodies for the first week: a supply of three kinds of eye drops; a pair of clear plastic eye shields to tape over my eyes during sleep; and thick, wrap-around sunglasses.

The first couple hours after the operation were unpleasant. I wasn't in pain, just an aching sort of discomfort. My eyes were very sensitive to light, even indoors with the sunglasses on, and basically just tired after their ordeal. But I was prohibited from sleeping for at least two hours after the surgery.

Lubricating drops had to be administered every 20 minutes at that point, and hourly thereafter (except during sleep).

After I slept, I could start to see--literally--the improvement to my vision. It wasn't 20/20, but a vast improvement over the 20/400 range my eyes had been seeing.

The next morning, at the post-op exam, the surgeon determined my right eye was close to 20/25 but the left was more like 20/30. He said there was still some swelling there and I needed to keep up on my eye drops to keep both eyes properly hydrated. He seemed very pleased with how things went.

So, I entered the new year with a new outlook on life, but it wasn't quite what I'd expected.

By the end of last week I was still experiencing the "ghosting" or "underwater" vision that is part of the healing process. Also, the one-week checkup with my local eye doctor confirmed what I'd noticed: a slight regression from the post-op results, something which can happen in the higher prescriptions like mine.

He advised coming back in two weeks. By then my vision should be stabilized enough to determine where to go next.

As I write, it has been nine days since my surgery. By all accounts, this is too soon to tell what my final vision is going to be. I am certainly much improved and functional on a day-to-day basis, but overall not yet back to the vision I had with glasses.

Am I disappointed at my left eye not coming along as well as hoped? A bit.

Am I still happy I had the surgery? Definitely. I may not see perfectly, but it's been 30 years since I could see this well.

Kay Hafner, a writer from Queensbury, can be reached via e-mail at [email protected]. On the Bright Side appears every other Thursday in the Arts/Life section.