I’ve thrown out my old contact boxes, storage cases, and eye drops. I’ve folded my glasses, slipped them into their pouch, and stored them under the bathroom sink. And I’ve got my eyedrops calendar on the kitchen counter and my CareCredit monthly deductions scheduled to come out of my bank account every month. Just like that. A forty minute free consultation, a trip to Rite Aid, a week of fish oil and artificial tears, a few days of steroid and antibiotic drops, a pre-op exam, and a surgery—if you can even call it a surgery. The operating time lasted no more than 20 minutes and I was awake and watching the entire thing. Lasers. On my eyeballs. Weird. I have yet to feel the impact of the procedure. After all, I’ve merely eliminated putting in and out contacts every morning and night. This isn’t like Gretchen Stevens getting a cochlear implant or Jesus’ healing of the blind man. Post-op, my eyes see just as well as they did when I wore contacts, slightly better actually. How