All the Lasers
Let me tell you about my experience with two laser treatments: Lasik eye surgery and laser hair removal. I probably started thinking about each around 15 years ago. I always held back due to budget constraints or feasibility, but in this past year I finally took the plunge and did both. What better time to do so than when you’re halfway to seventy, right? If you’re considering either, you’ve probably already hit up the Google-sphere. Here’s my take on each:
Lasik
Making the Decision
Prior to surgery, I was wearing daily contacts. If you’re in them, you know they’re not that big of a deal. They’re already a hefty improvement from the weeklies (or bi-weekies in my case). Eyes dry out less, you no longer need to carry around contact solution when you travel, and you don’t have to worry about the grody contact case.
But there is the downside of each day you’re popping open two new pieces of plastic (I’m sorry environment!) and they’re costly - about $1/ day per eye. And that’s what ultimately led me to taking the plunge. Even though the upfront cost of Lasik is a lot, it pays for itself in the long run.
How to get started
Start with your optometrist. See what they think about your prescription and ask for surgeon recos. Keep in mind your rx should be stable for a few years. This is because Lasik is a permanent solve; so it can’t solve a problem that’s still a moving target.
How does it work?
Mind you, I’m not a medical professional, but this is how I understand the effectiveness of Lasik. Bad eyesight is because the shape of your eyes are off and which in turn affects how your eye refracts light. Glasses or lenses are essentially “helpers” - they adjust how your eyeball sees those refractions of light so that you can see clearly. Lasik uses lasers to cut and reshape the eye (cornea specifically) so that you can properly refract light and no longer need helpers.
Getting to procedure
Some folks like to meet multiple surgeons before settling on one. I’ve done that for previous surgeries, but for this one, I mainly spent my time researching online and asking friends who’d had it done recently. Here’s what goes down once you narrow down a surgeon:
Initial consult: this is sorta like a regular optometry exam on steroids. They make sure you’re a viable candidate (aka, do you have enough cornea for them to effectively cut). You need to stop wearing your contacts 1-3 days before this appointment.*
Pre-Op appointment: Once your candidacy is determined, your pre-op is scheduled. You need to stop wearing contacts a week (7 days) before this appointment.
Surgery: Believe it or not, I was only at the clinic for 40 minutes. More on this below. You need to stop wearing contacts a week (7 days) before this appointment.
Post-op: One day after surgery.
*in case you were wondering: you have to stop wearing contacts days ahead because contacts affect the shape of your eyes
What to expect during surgery
It really does only take 5 minutes per eye. Basically, they’ll tape down the eye that isn’t being worked on and then put a contraption in your eye to keep you eye open. Then they’ll DOUSE your eye in numbing drops as they get started. And then from there, you basically have to stare at either a red light or a green light, depending on where the are in the process.
At some point you’ll feel some pressure, then it’ll go completely pitch black dark for a moment and then the lasering starts. This was the weirdest part. You definitely know there’s lasering going on because it smells like burnt hair for a few seconds. Yes, gnar. But then after that, you’re basically done. You stare at the colored light again, they douse you in saline solution and that eye is all set. If you’re getting both eyes done, they’ll tape the completed eye down and rinse and repeat. Then you get your sunglasses.
After care
The first four hours your eyes will be light sensitive, so keep them closed. Artificial non-preservative tears go in every hour. Follow Doc’s orders for antibiotic and anti-inflammatory drops. Mine were every four hours for seven days. I was able to drive myself to my post-op appointment the next day, but couldn’t look at screens longer than 20 minutes at a time the day after. You also need to wear these baddies for the first seven days while you sleep so you don’t bump or rub your eyes.
The most inconvenient part was not being able to run your eyes while washing your face for the first month. But that’s about it. Overall, I describe the whole thing as nothing less than a miracle. After wearing glasses for 31 years, being able to see as soon as I wake up is truly life changing.
Ok, now onto
Laser Hair Removal
This treatment is a little simpler to explain comparatively, ha! The basics:
It takes up to 9 sessions, 6 weeks apart to affect all of your hair’s growth cycles
It works better on darker hair, so if you have lighter hair definitely ask questions about that
It doesn’t hurt that bad, it’s kind of like getting snapped with a rubber band. If you’ve ever had a tattoo, you’ll totally be fine
Most places already do this now, but ask if their laser uses cooling air. And then get that laser! I once had to use the other laser machine and I was NOT into it. It felt more like a suction cup that pinches you vs. a rubber band snap and it was warm. No thanks!
If you’ve ever had a wax, you basically do all the same positions that waxing requires (butterfly and spread cheeks for full brazilian, arm up above your head for armpits, etc.)
A once-a-year touch up is recommended
Session costs vary per laser clinic, but for reference, I paid around $1100-$1200 (+ tip each session) for a 9 session package. It’s a big investment upfront, but if you calculate how much you’ve been paying for those waxes, it’s not too shabby for a more permanent solution.
If you go to the right kind of clinic, you’ll be able to use your HSA!
So that’s the deal if you’re considering getting zapped :)
TL:DR - worth it!
An open letter to my parents on Valentine's Day
...because they'd never pull a Susan Patton on me.
(originally written on 14 Feb 2014)
Dear Mom and Dad,
Today a friend sent me a link to a Washington Post article written by a woman named Susan Patton. The article said a lot of things that made me feel a lot of feelings. And as I processed those feelings, the most dominant feeling that rose to the surface was gratitude. While I thank you for so many things in my life, this article made me want to thank you for four things in particular:
1. For always pushing me to seek my own truth. Because only I can know where my happiness lies and only I can follow the path that will lead me there. Along the way you continue to offer your sage wisdom, and when I refuse to take it to heart, you pick me up off my pile of failure that I eventually end up on and you kindly point me back in the right direction.
2. For bending the curve and paving the way during a time that still very much followed the cookie cutter timeline that Ms. Patton seems to think is the ultimate way to build a family. Luckily I have you as living proof of the joys that lie on the flip side of the coin. Thank you for enjoying your single life in your 20s and 30s and giving me and my brother a wonderful childhood in your 40s. I admire you for always living life to its fullest and never trying to keep up with any Joneses.
3. For encouraging me to obtain higher education; experiment with cooking; keep a tidy, well-decorated home; learn some DIY crafts and fix things myself when they're broken. Thank you for raising me to be a strong, confident, compassionate, resourceful, loyal, independent woman who is worthy of a great, earth-moving love if that happens to be where my path leads me.
And lastly I thank you for calling me every Valentine's Day, regardless of if I have a Valentine or not. And I thank you for making sure that when our call is over I feel more loved that I did before I answered your call, and not less worthy because I haven't found the "like-minded, age-appropriate single man" to call my husband. Thank you for the most excellent Valentine's Day straight talk-to have fun doing whatever it is that I have planned...even if my plans happen to be sushi for one.
Love you,
Liz
Write your second home a farewell love letter when you leave
Looking back, I can’t believe I was brave enough to actually leave home. I do think it was less about mustering up courage, and more about harnessing the power behind believing that I really had nothing to lose - if I hated NYC, I could just go back to California. Turns out I fell in love with everything that is New York. I had no idea the life-changing forever-friends I’d meet, the dreams I’d fulfill, nor the depth of the love I’d develop for that special city.
I’m a NorCal native. I grew up in a house that was in the middle of a cul-de-sac until I moved to the dorms. All my life, my parents told me that as soon as I got my degree I could go anywhere and be anybody that I wanted to be. I definitely didn’t fathom just what that really meant, but a year after graduating I somehow convinced an ad agency in NYC to hire me with my liberal arts degree from a science and theory university. With two weeks notice, I packed up my essentials into two check-in luggages and boarded a one-way flight to what would become a place I now refer to as my second home.
There are plenty of people/ articles/ fortune tellers out there that will tell you to leave home. To take that leap of faith. To see the world that is your oyster. It’s all true. My build on that advice: once you get there, enjoy every single minute and when you decide it’s time to leave, make sure you write that place a farewell love letter of sorts so you don’t forget all that she showed/ taught/ gave you. Chances are you won’t read it again, but there’s also a chance you might find yourself reading it again at halfway to seventy, smiling at how far you’ve come.
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My Official Farewell to NYC
(Written April 2011)
"After two years, my vanity had run its course" - Brandon Funston on when he knew it was time to leave NYC
It's hard to believe. I'm sitting at the gate of my favorite terminal at JFK, awaiting the boarding announcement of my delayed flight.
I have weird butterflies in my stomach. And I keep covering my face with my hand and pinching the bridge of my nose to prevent myself from losing composure. I’m leaving a place that I had learned to call home. The feeling is surreal, but not foreign.
When I moved, I had no idea that my time in NYC would have me falling in love over and over and over again. On a daily basis I was enamored-by a newfound friend, a new restaurant, a hidden park, a new advertising idea.
The city herself was so gracious to me.
I had the privilege of working for two of the biggest, bad-ass advertising agencies in the world.
I got to witness another World Series win. Frank Sinatra’s New York, New York blared out of every other bar as I walked home down Second Avenue after the big win. Each alternating bar played Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, a fire truck crawled down the street with joyous horns beeping and buff men cheering.
I experienced several Snowpacalypses. Which for a young person in the city means trudging through the snowy streets of NY to a neighborhood bar. Each bar was full of young professionals who enjoyed a drink with their neighbors as they furiously tapped at their blackberrys every half hour. Because not even a blizzard stops the city. Not even a blizzard that's a Snowpacalypse.
I grew a backbone. Via apartment break-ins, identity theft, unexpected broken leases, a craiglist stranger roommate, recession raise freezes, family emergencies and the occasional mouse/cockroach appearance. You name it, I probably experienced it.
I was in Rockefeller Center when President Obama won the election. I remember standing in the cold for hours and declaring to my friends that if a winner hadn't been announced by midnight I was going home. Luckily, he was announced before my personal deadline. Watching the ribbon rise and his face appear on the jumbo screen was worth the wait. Pride, joy, excitement-my attempt to explain how that moment felt.
I got to do a lot of cool things for free, like get an eye exam, watch the US Open and see concerts.
I got to volunteer for some cool projects, like the restoration of my parish, painting a school and mentoring high school students on how to develop a communications campaign
I feel like I did the "New Yorker" thing right. I watched the Thanksgiving Day parade (twice!), had picnics in Central park, drank on rooftops (and boats!) with great views, watched the ball drop, walked through summer street fairs, spent time on the Highline, went to free summer concerts and played volleyball with the best Big City team ever.
The list goes on. The only thing that tops the things that I did were the people I spent time with. Some were rekindled friendships from past lives. Others were fellow NYC transplants. And a handful were NY natives. Being able to live in the center of the universe, in my early twenties no-less, has been my greatest adventure thus far. And now, on to the next one. Southern California, here I come.
Parental Mortality
Maya Angelou’s poem I Learned has a line that reads, “I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life.”
It’s a harsh reality: that realization that our parents aren’t going to be around forever. For me, that moment came when my dad filled us in about his heart problems. I found out when I was home for the holidays (at the time I was living in NY for work and flew home each Christmas to be with my family). I came across something I wrote right after it happened, so instead of trying to explain the feelings I had then, I’ll share that exact writing from January 2009.
This was originally titled: My dad is sick.
It hurts me to admit it out loud, but I can't run away from the truth. I can only hide for so long. When I made the decision to move to New York I asked my aging father to promise me that he would always keep me well informed of his health. It's hard enough being so far away; the last thing I need is an unpleasant surprise.
The day after Christmas the four of us sat around our dining table after breakfast. I know that meals together is one of the things my parents miss most about not having me around. Me, my brother and my mom were talking up a storm about some new something or other, maybe a movie... We were so busy chatting that we didn't pay much attention to my dad sneaking away from the table. A few minutes later he returned with a thick file folder full of print outs. He slowly opened the folder and began handing different sheets around the table.
Each sheet was filled with similar medical jargon. My dad, the strict military disciplinarian that he is, got straight to the point. I'm sick. I have {insert three word long medical term with cardio in the suffix here}. It's my heart. My mother, brother and I do what we always do when we have these serious family meetings. We remain silent. My father's strong personality usually looms in the air as we digest whatever life-changing aspect he presents at the family meeting - only this time that familiar strength was influenced by a slight tinge of vulnerability and for the first time in my life I felt like my dad - the man who always has a plan - didn't know what to expect next.
Mom cries. Of course. Raendy looks down directly in front of him. And I, frustrated with not being able digest the medical jargon on the sheet of paper in front of me, demand a diagram of a heart from my father. As if dad already knew, he whipped out a drawing of a heart and started pointing and explaining. This is not a death sentence. At this point I have so many things running through my head I think I stopped listening. I was concentrating on suppressing my emotions. I know my dad needs me to be the one to not freak out, the one with the back up plan when the man with the plan's plan doesn't work out.
I interrupt him - So what's next? He calmly explains his treatments and lifestyle modifications. Mom's still crying. Raendy hasn't looked up yet. My bottom left lip is hidden beneath one of my teeth - my effort to control the quivering. Dad repeats himself. This is not a death sentence. We just have to be prepared.
Today I called my dad just to say hello. Right before we wrapped up our conversation I asked him how his heart was feeling. Good. Better. I'm no longer gasping for breath. I tell my dad that I'm happy to hear that. I say my goodbyes and hang up the phone with tears streaming down my face. I didn't realize that he had been short of breath. He never complains.
My dad is sick. It hurts a lot. If you catch me in a silent daze please don't ask me what's wrong, or if I'm okay. Instead, please just say a quick prayer for my dad because my dad is sick and it hurts a lot.
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If your parent is sick, know you’re not alone in your feelings. And if your homie has reached out because he/ she just found out his/ her parent is sick, know they’re processing various emotions. You being there for them, even if it’s just to listen, helps more than you know.
You almost always lose before you gain
This thought is really what inspired this whole endeavor - the realization that losing leads to gaining, and gaining rarely happens without losing something.
Sometimes the loss is an overdue good riddance. Sometimes the loss is a heartbreaking, gut-wrenching surprise. And sometimes the loss is subtle, moving slowly in the background. The gains, however, are always on the up; although it sometimes takes a lot of work to see and realize the full goodness of the gain.
On my 35th birthday a good friend joked that I was halfway to 70 (hence the site name) and I realized that my life’s journey had me opening doors that not a lot of people had to open by that age. So within this space you’ll read a lot about my personal losses and gains. I’ll talk about how each loss/ gain affected me across the experience spectrum: from pragmatic logistics to emotional spirituality. Sometimes I’ll ask framily to help me paint a more robust picture. Regardless of how many people help me tell a story, I promise you will always get the raw realness.
Some examples of what you’ll find here:
What it’s like to chase my dreams, particularly in my 20s. I literally moved cross country twice in five years.
Losing my dad and the lessons that came with that.
Random self care things that help me keep my head above water, or helped me feel truer to myself.
Life milestones that weren’t necessarily turnkey to navigate.
TL:DR: this is an embellished life FAQs of sorts.
And if you ever want to know about something in particular that hasn’t been covered yet, feel free to reach out. Chances are I know a guy who knows a gal that can give you their 2 cents of wisdom. There’s no need to feel alone and start from ground zero. Not when some of us have already been there; not when some of us are already halfway to seventy.