The Time I Got My Throat Cut

For years now I have been a victim. It all started when I was a wee lad. Ever year, 3 times a year, I would get strep throat. Eventually the doctor said "the next time you get strep throat, we will have to take your tonsils out." Thus, I never went back to the doctor when it came to my strep throat.

Fast forward to earlier this year. I've been told by Amelia that I sound like I'm choking on a hairball when I sleep (breathing is fun!). My insurance runs out in August and so I decide to hit up the doctors circuit. Eyes, Check up (no dentist, I don't believe in them). When I went to get my check up the doctor told me I had the biggest tonsils she had ever seen. I believe the technical term was "Holy Moly."

She then sent me to an Ear Nose and Throat specialist, who further backed up her findings with a "Whoa! I have been operating on tonsils for 20 years and these are the biggest I've seen. How do you breathe at night?" I told him breathing wasn't a necessity for me and he said my tonsils weren't life threatening yet, but we arranged a 2 month follow up. In those two months I got sick at least 3 times and because of the size of my tonsils, even minor colds tend to blow up my throat and stay forever.

When I went back for the two month check up, he said the tonsils had grown larger and were now 4 times the size of a regular tonsil. They needed to come out and be sent to a lab to make sure they aren't cancerous (throat cancer at 22? Guiness Book here I come). Thus I made the appointment for yesterday July 3 (as I only have one vacation day at work.)

Leading up to the surgery I read a bunch of horror stories about the pain following the surgery and got throughly freaked out. However, I tried to console myself realizing that I had the biggest tonsils in the world and that maybe the swelling these people are feeling, are what I feel everyday. Nonetheless, I was a little nervous leading up to the surgery.

The day before the surgery I get a call from the surgical center (about an hour away) and they tell me that I need to show up at 6:30 AM for a 7:00 AM surgery time (meaning wake up time was about 4:30 AM). I'm not allowed to have any sort of food or water after midnight, which isn't so bad considering it's only 7 hours till the surgery (does anybody else sense a new diet fad?)

Amelia and I drive to the center and get there around 6:10 AM - before the center is even open. We decide to drive around and look for a Starbucks, but apparently a major city like Durham doesn't have any within a 5 mile radius. We drive back to the center and we are now 3rd in line. (Also note that I have worn loose fitting clothing which has led me to look somewhat like a hobo - my shorts have paint on them.)

I check in and get sent back where one of a plethora of nurses tells me what to do. I change into my hospital gown and then I am visited by a nurse who puts an IV in my hand (and has some tape issues while doing so). 2 minutes later the first anesthesiologist comes in and asks if I have any questions, and seems surprised when I don't (what are you supposed to ask? Will I be asleep? Will I feel any pain? Am I a moron?). The second anesthesiologist comes in and says what did you have for breakfast this morning "Nothing!" I respond, proud of getting an answer right. He then looks over my chart and says "...and you are allergic to ...mangoes?" I play along with his joke and say "haha, no not mangoes, papayas."

Apparently he wasn't kidding and after a good 15 seconds of confusion between he, Amelia and I he realizes he has the wrong chart (do you feel nervous for me yet?) He puts the chart on the wall, with mangoes crossed out, and we realize it's not the wrong chart and someone had one too many hits of Nitrous Oxide. I am ready to go.




I walk myself into the room (which is so much better than being carted in, I would feel like I was on my death bed if I saw lights go by over my head) and find a table that is probably about as wide as an airplane seat. I try to laydown and I'm almost over the edge and then they strap me in (to make sure I don't fall off). I make a joke that I'm a giant and no one finds it funny and then they put the anesthesia in. I remember remarking that I felt it and then I remember nothing else.

I wake up with Amelia by my side and get to sip apple juice until they decide to kick me out. I am disappointed that I don't get wheelchaired out. The pain isn't as bad as they say so far. But they say the third day is the worst. You will get updates.