Laser Tx One

“I’m nervous.” I confessed to the tech, scolding myself and demanding that I stop wringing my hands. “I know I signed up for this and am paying for it. And I really do want the hair to be gone. But I’m sort of scared.”

“Don’t be scared!” She chirped. “It’s not bad at all and if it does hurt too much, you can tell me and I’ll just turn the power down.”

I nodded at the toothpick-thin blonde. She was rather adorable and she smelled nice. I liked her well enough, though I doubt we’d ever be best friends. But she was going to zap me with a laser for some undefined amount of time. I was trying to prepare for excruciating pain – willing to accept it to solve my little problem, but not at all eager to experience it now that I was there.

The day had dawned rather snowily. There was a dusting on the ground and flakes continued to gently fall from the sky.

“The roads are yellow.” Friend said as she perused the online traffic map. “Snow and ice. And many, many accidents.”

“So I should leave now to allow enough time.” I nodded.

“You wouldn’t go to work in this, but you’ll go to a laser appointment?” She confirmed and I responded in the affirmative. I didn’t go home this weekend so I could move along my hairless path. I was getting zapped come hell or high water (or snow or big accidents as the case may be).

The roads weren’t that bad – more wet than anything, though I was concerned that if the temperature dipped too much, all that standing water would cause some severe problems. But it didn’t feel that cold and the car was handling well. I grew a bit worried when I saw many cars either abandoned or crashed along the side of the interstate – lots of flashing lights, police cars and tow trucks were trying to sort out the mess of southern winter driving. But I allowed more room between myself and those cars around me, slowed my speed a bit, and took turns carefully. I was fine.

“If you didn’t want to get where you were going,” I asked yet another car as it pulled over to the side of the road and parked for no apparent reason, “why didn’t you just stay home?” And I don’t understand the concept of trying to drive, then deciding it’s too hard and giving up when you’re only partway to your destination.

Regardless, I was pleased I’d allowed extra time, arriving a mere 5 minutes early to my appointment, which coincided with the opening of the office. I was ushered into the waiting room, flipping through a magazine as tension built, then asked to come back to a treatment room.

It was a small corner room – the two large windows covered by white mini-blinds that allowed some of the soft, white light from outside to enter. There was a small machine next to the table covered in paper. It had few buttons and a rather harmless looking laser delivery system attached. I frowned warily at it regardless. There was a counter with several tubes of gel on it. A sink and space for other items was beside all the gel. I noticed the same post-treatment lotion as I took home last week in one corner.

“It’s going to hurt.” I said and Courtney turned to shake her head kindly.

“You’ll be fine.” She said and I nodded. Then she returned to her laptop and continued to enter my information. “OK! Perfect.” She said when she finished. “Go ahead and sit up here now.” She requested, patting the sheet of paper on the raised exam table.

I got up from my seat in the corner and boosted myself up.

“Now lie down.” She ordered patiently. I did, entire body clenched against nerves though I really did want the treatment quite a lot. I just wasn’t sure what to expect and when given the opportunity, natural reserve and apprehension take control of my thoughts. “OK, we’re going to do some patch tests on your neck. Just to make sure there’s no discoloration and to see how sensitive you are to the laser.”

“OK.” I said, nearing tears as I became more and more afraid.

“You’ll turn your head away from me.” She said, taking my glasses and replacing them with green goggles.

“Oh.” I said, surprised. “I can still see. I thought I’d be blinded while this happened. That seemed scarier.”

“Nope.” She touched my chin to turn my head a bit farther, exposing my neck. “We only use eye pads if we need to. But the light will be bright, so don’t let that scare you. Are you ready?”

“I guess.” Then I held my breath, laced my fingers together and clenched my hands tightly.

She squirted the cold gel on my neck and smeared it around with a piece of gauze. “It’s cold, I know.” She offer sympathetically. “We’re going to start with a setting of 12, which is pretty low. Just let me know if it’s too much.”

I caught a glimpse of bright light and raised my eyebrows in surprise. “That didn’t hurt at all! Though there was some sensation. I just don’t know what it was since it didn’t last long.” As we went up to a setting of 30 – the highest my skin will theoretically tolerate – I decided it was like a rubber band flicking the skin - just as I've heard it described. But not in a sharp sting – just in a kind of tapping sensation. It wasn’t even unpleasant – just odd.

We got started and she applied and smoothed more gel onto my skin. I requested the areas along the jaw, around my chin, on my upper lip become hairless. I closed my eyes – not wanting to see, but grateful for the ability to do so if I changed my mind.

“It’s strange.” I told her as I pointed and described what I wanted, letting her squint and decide where she thought we should direct the laser. “I hate this – having people see I have more hair than I’d like. It’s embarrassing to come in and talk about it like this. But I really do hate those hairs.”

“Well, we’ll get rid of it, and you won’t have to think about it again!”

Since I had a relatively large area treated, I can say that the pain varies. If there aren’t many hairs located in the laser area, it’s just sensation. Like a tiny, localized pressure, but more electric. A small shock, perhaps. When the hair is denser and coarser, it hurts a bit. I jumped four times – once for my chin (“It’s worst there, poor thing.” Courtney soothed. “You’re just fine though.”), and all three treatments of the upper lip.

“Put your tongue under your lip.” She requested, demonstrating so I could correctly comply. Once it was convex, she placed the laser on the left and the light flashed an instant before I flinched. A mixture of sensitive skin and relatively dense hair follicles made it sting.

“Sorry.” I said after I recoiled the first time.

“You’re fine.” She said, moving to the right.

“Sorry.” I said again when the unpleasant sensation was repeated and I jumped again.

“You’re fine. Just one more.”

“Sorry.” I apologized again when the center hurt again. I think it was worse because I was expecting it to be icky after my experience with the left and right sides.

I was dreading the next location, though the pain dissipates almost instantly, when I heard her put the laser back in its holder.

“Are we done?” I asked, surprised.

“Uh huh.” Courtney replied. “All done! You were perfect.”

“Wow.” I said, impressed. “That wasn’t bad at all! It was so fast! And it only hurt a little those few times.”

“Uh huh.” She said, removing most of the gel with her popsicle stick thingie. Then she wiped at my face with a few pieces of gauze, cleaning at the remainder of the substance. I could smell the hair that had burned – I actually found that reassuring. That we were doing something bad to those nasty follicles I dislike so much. And the sensation, I was told, was the heating of those hairs. If there were many, it was stronger. If the hair was finer, it wasn’t much at all.

“You’re a little pink, but it’s not bad.” Courtney evaluated, rubbing the post-treatment lotion in gently. “I’ll use an ice pack.”

So she pressed one gently to the treated areas while I basked in the relief that I was done with the first treatment and wouldn’t dread returning in 7 weeks for the second. Apart for a few moderately unpleasant seconds, it was really nothing over which to worry at all. I finished with Courtney, thanking her again for being so nice about the process.

I saw Britney when I was making my next appointment for the beginning of April.

“I was really nervous.” I admitted and she cocked her head in exaggerated sympathy.

“It’s not bad.” She said. “You did fine, right?”

“I did, actually. She was wonderful and it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it might. And it was so fast!”

“Perfect!” She said.

Indeed, I decided. And like any big purchase, there’s that instant where I feel superficial and strange about it. I didn’t really need a new car. Or to join a dating service. Or to buy a house. But in the end, I think there’s some pleasure in doing something good for myself. So I’m pleased with the experience – not feeling pink or sore at all in the aftermath – and hoping the results are as perfect.

It continues to snow here though. Friend and I ran some errands this afternoon. Yankee Candle had a tart sale and I do like tarts. Sprout is entranced by laser pointers, so I wanted one of my own. When we went to Office Depot to find one after stopping by the mall, it was snowing relatively hard. Fluffy white flakes melted immediately upon touching the ground.

Friend and I smiled when a couple emerged from the store as we were crossing the parking lot. The woman breathed out a curse upon encountering such a weather phenomena and her husband was busy trying to capture the moment on his cell phone camera.

“I can’t even get a good picture of the stuff.” He complained as they both brushed themselves off.

“Is it bad that I want to take a picture of the man taking a picture of the snow?” Friend asked, and I laughed.

After obtaining a laser pointer (which has already created a Sprout-y obsession – I’ve never seen him react that strongly to anything) and a USB drive (2GB for $34.99 (after rebate)! I’m enough of a geek that this pleased me greatly. People at work will be so jealous!), we exited the building and headed toward my car.

“Do you want to use the Lord’s name in vain or take a picture of the snow?” I asked Friend and waited for my sleepy pal to laugh at my delightful joke. It took her a few seconds, but she remembered the couple we saw and eventually did laugh quietly. “I think we should try to fit in.” I said.

We stopped at Walmart, then picked up Arby’s on the way home. She decided to nap while I marinated chicken and found couscous for dinner. I sincerely hope she’s successful – I’m growing concerned as quality sleep continues to elude her. I’ve convinced myself that she’s just tired, but eventually I might start to wonder if I’m as amusing as I think I am.