You Know What They Say About A Man With Thick Irises

Nothing. They don't say anything, and if they do, it's "Ouch."
Yesterday I went to have a hole drilled in my eye to relieve the pressure of narrow angle glaucoma. They said it would take maybe five not exactly painless shots with a laser to create a hole in my iris to allow fluid to drain from my eye. After the first five blasts, though, the doctor told me that my iris was so thick that it was going to take another round of five to get through, but that so much pigment had been stirred up that I would have to sit in the waiting room (or wait in the sitting room) for it to settle down.  While I sat waiting, I did my PT exercises. As I told the technician, "Don't flatter yourselves, it's not just my eyes that are failing."
In the end, it took a total of three sessions to get through. The doctor fired so many times at my eye that I thought she might be trying to win a stuffed animal. Next week I'm having the other eye done. I'm looking forward to being done with this, but hopefully, after having this done, I'll be able to keep looking at things.