SPECIAL FEATURE

EYES ON THE PRIZE

Frustrated by impaired vision and wet shooting optics,
STEVE MCDOWELL takes the plunge and opts for
corrective laser eye surgery

I WRITE this with apologies to the excellent offices Satisfied shooter:

of JH Steward (Bisley) – the opticians in whose very
capable hands my shooting eyes have been for
some years.
But not any more. The short sightedness and
the astigmatism that afflicted my vision have gone
– eliminated by laser eye surgery.
I’ve always had a hate/hate relationship with
contact lenses. Ever since giving up cricket a couple
of years ago – due to encroaching age and back
problems – I’ve worn them only very occasionally.
As such I was never very experienced, and never got
used to plunging my finger into my eye, in the bleary
mornings. Besides, firing prone means looking out
of the very top of your eye and I found sometimes
the lenses would get moved down while in the aim
every time I blinked.
Though I had been toying with the idea of
corrective surgery for some time, it was this year’s
Imperial Meeting that made me do it. Or rather, it
was the weather at the Imperial Meeting that made
me do it: rainstorms of biblical proportions ham-
mered the event from day one. The first shoot – the
Admiral Hutton – was cancelled for the first time in
anyone’s memory.
After being rained on for a fifth successive day, I
lay face-down on the 1,000yd firing point adjusting
my shooting glasses. My waterproofs were all over
the place; water was dripping down my neck; the
wind was blowing rain into my shooting box; and
my glasses steamed up (again) as I tried to wipe the
rain off them (again) with a cloth which was wetter
than the lens itself. In the end I just took them off, and
threw them in a huff into my shooting box.
Conniving with the kind shooter to my right,
who agreed to spot for me, I could still barely see if
the target, half-obscured by low cloud by the look of
it, was up or down. I locked my position rigidly, and
gripped my Gemini so I could be sure I was pointing
at target 23. I could not even see the colours of the
target boards, never mind the numbers.
In the end, it was something of a miracle that
the shoppers of Guildford were not endangered. But I
got through, not only without a miss, but with a 45.2
– and only one magpie.
Pretty good, I thought. But it was time, finally,
to bite the bullet.
Less invasive
And so it was I found myself, before an array of
incredible machinery, in the stylishly appointed
spec-free Steve. Picture
courtesy of James Mehta
London Vision Clinic, just off Harley Street. For three
hours my eyes were tested in every conceivable way
by every conceivable machine. I met three experts,
who guided me through the process. Hallelujah: I was
suitable for the LASIK surgery, the less invasive and
easier-to-recover-from of the two available forms.
In an age where corrective laser eye surgery has
reached the high street for less than the price of an
exotic holiday, this treatment cost £4,200. Professor
Dan Rienstein, the American-born surgeon who runs
the clinic, is proud of the price tag. “Would you buy a
discount parachute?” he asks. “These are your eyes
we’re talking about.”
Rienstein’s qualifications are too long to list, but
most of those who are turned away by mainstream
clinics are accepted and successfully treated by
the London Vision Clinic. He even tackles referrals
from the capital’s famous Moorefields Eye Hospital.
Age; severity of vision defects; and even underlying
disorders like diabetes, which other clinics will refuse
to treat, are usually embraced by Rienstein. “You
manage the condition at the same time. Where’s the
problem?” he offers.
My vision was not that bad: an easily manage-
able -1.75 dioptres in each eye (bad enough to fail a
driving test), plus the astigmatism that, uncorrected,
made the target appear almond-shaped through
my sights.
Before: Steve
with his pre-
op. shooting
optics. Picture
courtesy of
James Mehta
More than one surgeon, however, had turned
Jasmine, the young woman in front of me, away, at
-12 in each eye.
The procedure itself isn’t like any surgery you
might imagine. A completely sterile environment
isn’t necessary, because there is almost no invasion.
A small flap is cut in the cornea, and the laser, which
appears simply as a flashing light, is programmed to
vaporise a tiny slither before the flap is replaced. It
takes 10 minutes, and heals in a few hours.
I have endured much more unpleasant fillings.
Within moments I was sitting up, cheerfully reading
the eye-card better than I had been ten minutes
before. There was some redness and soreness over-
night, and I was given a large collection of eye drops
– antibiotic and moisturising – to use several times a
day for a week. But within a day or two my eyesight
was extraordinary.
I can now stand in my first-floor office and read
the number plates of the cars zooming by. I can see
clearly and absolutely: it’s magic. No more specs.

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SPECIAL FEATURE: LASER EYE SURGERY

Indeed, a month later I was re-tested and my eyesight,

Professor Dan
at 20/12.5, is 40% better than 20/20 – which is Rienstein in
enough to be a fighter pilot, never mind a motorist. action
The clinic claims the vast majority of its short-sighted
clients end up with better than 20/20 vision. Young
Jasmine, meanwhile, was so delighted with the results
she looked like she had just been released from solitary
confinement. Her mum shed tears of joy. There was
only one thing left for me: another trip to Bisley.

I can see clearly now

I entered a long-range competition. The format was
two sighters and 10 to count at 900yd and 1,000yd.
The first time I gazeed into the rear sight I found I could
close down the aperture even further. The foresight
looked as clear as a lighthouse, and I could even read
the target number through the foresight. Blimey! I
shot badly (91.6ex-100.10), but that’s largely because
of the excitement and the fact that my 0.3-dioptre
Eagle Eye was knocked about by the muzzle blast. I
know: take it off. No problem: I can see like an eagle
with a microscope.
I talk to GB shooter Belinda Moore. An infinitely
better shot than me, she reveals that with eyesight
three times worse than me she went through a similar
procedure just before the Meeting. I am disappointed:
I’ll never catch her now.
“I’m bionic,” she says, “but I didn’t win any-
thing.” Then she makes the point that might, just
might, prove interesting: “Are we cheating?”

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TARGET SPORTS 43

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