On the Road to Recovery

No tonsils, no worries

Back to Article
Back to Article

On the Road to Recovery

Advertisement

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


Email This Story






      3 a.m the alarm starts to screech so with my eyes squinted like a cat, I threw on some clothes and loaded into the van. Before I knew it, we rolled into the Carmel Surgery Center. That day, October 11th, I had to get my tonsils removed. My procedure was supposed to take place at 6 a.m but rather my name was called at 5:15 a.m. My heart was beating out of my chest before I even made it back to the patient’s room. Now I knew… go time. My palms got all sweaty as the nurse walked in with the IV, for I am the biggest chicken when it comes to needles. However, the nurse had told me I would be put out before the nurse put an IV in me. She told me wrong, so as my tears rolled down my face, my skin was getting emerged with a needle. I squirmed like a fish out of water, but somehow I survived.

      Then my parents were forced to exit, and I went on a cruise in my bed into a cold operating room. One of the doctors told me that I should just relax as my body heated up and then poof I was a goner. Thirty minutes later, I woke up with the nurse beside me and my parents followed shortly after. I have never been a fan of the clip nurses put on my finger to check my pulse, so I kept looking at it as if it had every intention to harm me. However, every time I raised my finger the machine beeped at me. I made this into some type of game. I raised my finger and started doing “baby shark” with it as the machine continued to beep at me and my parents laughing out loud. I waited about two hours before I could go home from surgery. This wait wasn’t terrible until the nurse came take the IV out of my arm. Like always, I cried. My dad held my hand as I continued to be a big baby. Finally, I got to go home. I thought I could get up and walk, but rather I could barely stand up without holding onto my dad. 

     My mom and dad were told that the surgery would stop my talking for a couple of days. “God does answer some prayers,” said my dad. However, the joke was on him because I never stopped talking. I talked all the way home from my surgery. The day of my surgery, I went home and simply watched movies all night in discomfort. The second morning, I cried… what a surprise right? The pain of the mornings was the absolute worst feeling. I maybe received four hours of sleep per night and didn’t sleep during the day due to the unbearable pain. The strong throat pain dragged out for five days, and then developed into ear pain. Taking around eight pain pills a day, I was able to stay on my feet. 

*my throat after surgery*

     When preparing for surgery, I was told I would want to eat all the ice cream I could imagine. This, however, wasn’t the case. My family stocked up on chocolate ice cream, but little did we know anything chocolate tasted like rotten milk to me. I eventually switched to strawberry ice cream, and I ate this for about three days. By then, I wanted nothing to do with ice cream. Anything cold going down my throat felt as if it were trying to wither up the tissue back there. However, I ate hot dogs, rice, and mashed potatoes for several days. I drank nothing but lukewarm water. 

     This recovery is supposed to be at least two weeks. In other words, I’m still in pain. This pain is bearable though. Through several tears and lots of pain, I was still able to keep high spirits due to my biggest supporters: my parents. They both were at my beck and call all week and were there to dry my tears. My dad held my hand and my mom made sure to give me several hugs. I am glad the surgery is done, and I’m hoping I can go back to my everyday chatty cathy self within this week.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email