'I can see clearly now'

A RING of bright white light encircled the blinking red eye of the laser just inches from my face. Lying still, my heart racing despite accepting Valium to steady my nerves, I could hear quiet conversation between surgeons and nursing staff around me.

I had been assured this wasn't going to hurt; even the receptionist at Newcastle's Eye Clinic had assured me she had undergone The Treatment and hardly felt a thing. But, just the same, looking at the machine above me, as the operating team finished their preparations, felt like staring down the barrels of a shotgun.

I've always had a thing about anything touching my eyes. My single attempt at contact lenses resulted in an afternoon of frustration for one optician's assistant who became increasingly exasperated with my attempts to "pop them in". I just couldn't stop myself blinking and, time and again, the delicate sliver of silicone ended up in my lap, on the floor - anywhere but in my eye.

Walking from the shop that day, I was resigned to wearing glasses for the rest of my life. But then I heard about laser surgery - or laser vision correction, as the experts like to call it.

It is comparatively expensive. Depending on which procedure you opt for, it can cost upwards of £600 an eye. But many clinics offer payment in interest-free instalments, which brings the treatment within range of the pockets of those truly tired of fiddling with lenses or replacing pairs of glasses which have a knack of meeting with unfortunate accidents.

Admittedly, the mere thought of a laser searing your retina is enough to put many off. I lost count of the number of people who went all squeamish on my behalf when I told them what I was considering.

But, if you are determined to investigate laser correction as an option, a consultation at a reputable clinic will establish if your eyesight can be corrected using the hi-tech technique. Short-sightedness or an astigmatism usually qualify; long-sightedness or a "lazy" eye may not.

But, if you are deemed a suitable case and you decide to go ahead, you should expect both verbal and written advice on the available procedures and the possible risks involved - including impaired night vision or even a general deterioration in eyesight.

Having gone through them in detail, I was now under the machine waiting for my procedure to begin. Perversely, I couldn't shake the image of James Bond strapped to a metal table beneath an industrial laser, asking if Goldfinger expects him to talk. "No, Mr Bond. I expect you to die," is the response, which seemed more chilling than ever right now.

My surgeon was a little more reassuring. "Your job is just to watch the flashing light; this won't take any more than a few minutes," he says.

And, finally, after weeks of wondering whether I'd really be able to go through with this, things start to happen.

I had chosen the newer Lasik surgery on both eyes - the "flap-and-zap" method which I'd been told is less painful and speedier than the more established and cheaper alternative, known as PRK.

In layman's terms, Lasik requires a flap to be cut in the cornea, which is then lifted and the laser used to alter the curvature of the tissue beneath to improve the patient's vision.

Once anaesthetic drops had had time to work, I can remember retractors being fitted to prevent me blinking and another piece of equipment being placed over my eye to create suction while the flap was cut - an uncomfortable sensation but not painful.

After that, the rest is a blur.

Trying hard not to think too much about exactly what was happening, I lay as still as I could and did as I was told, watching the laser's light, now diffused and indistinct. I can remember hearing the laser's staccato chatter as a nurse counted down the exposure and my vision returning as the flap was replaced on the cornea of my right eye.

The whole procedure was then repeated on my left - and then, it was all over. It felt like longer but, in all, I had been in the laser room no more than 15 minutes.

The recovery room afterwards is also a little hazy.

By now, I had over-sized, perforated plastic shields taped over my eyes to prevent me rubbing them. I could still see other patients, relaxed by the Valium and reclining in the squashy sofas and armchairs awaiting discharge from the clinic like sleepy flies.

But, perhaps buoyed by the knowledge the procedure was over, I didn't really care what I looked like - even during the walk back to the car, guided by my wife who had come to drive me home.

However, I will admit my eyes began to feel gritty and light-sensitive as the anaesthetic wore off and I spent the car journey back to our house dozing underneath a fleece I'd pulled over my head as a shield against the sun.

Before leaving the clinic, I was issued with more tranquillisers and ordered to rest but, as it was only mid-afternoon when we got home, I decided to take my tablets and recuperate on the sofa-bed in the living room.

By early evening, any discomfort I may have felt as a result of the operation was masked by the fact I was fast asleep.

It has now been a few days since my treatment and I can honestly say the only difficulty I have had is resisting the urge to evangelise.

I had to wear those fetching plastic shields every night for a week and I'm still using three different types of eyedrops to ward off the risk of infection. I've had to buy a cheap pair of sunglasses to replace the pair I had with prescription lenses. I've also had to move further away from the TV.

I'm still reaching for my glasses in the morning and, every time I get in the car, I feel as though I've forgotten something.

I also have to return to The Eye Clinic for regular checks for the next 12 months - just to be on the safe side. But, emerging after almost 20 years from a world of blurred edges seen as though through water, my world is once again one of sharp focus.

"Look, dad - a kestrel!" shouted my eight-year-old son as we drove home from a recent day at the coast. And, watching the pin-sharp silhouette of the bird against a sky tinted orange by the lowering sun, I smiled a big, fat smile.

Details on laser vision correction are available from Health Clinics and Eye Clinics across the UK, by telephoning 0800 783 5555 or by visiting the company's website at www.healthclinic.co.uk