Friday, January 05, 2007
Rabbits are born blind and wearing tiny rollerskates
When I was young -- could have been eight, could have been twelve -- I contracted tonsillitis and the doctor advised my parents to have my tonsils removed so that it would not be a problem in the future. My parents promptly had my two younger sisters' tonsils extracted. Mine never did get around to their turn at the gallows.
Cut to many years later. Now, at the aged state of twenty one I have contracted some lovely strain of tonsillitis. Initially I thought it was a scratchy throat brought on by some badly chosen use of incense on my part. Alas, I woke up the next morning to a wretched condition imposed upon me. Swollen, raw, pulsating throat. Congestion. Coughing. Aches, lethargy (not the fun kind) and general woe. For two days I writhed in such a sullen disarray. Every time I woke, I merely moved a bit and took another dose of Nyquil. Sleep was a brief respite from dealing with the fact that I could not swallow even mashed potatoes without painful difficulty.
On day two I cracked and had my father take me to the doctor. She cringed visibly at the state of my throat. Swabs were taken, prescriptions called in, and other nasty things such as Gatorade were recommended. Sugar levels, you see. Electrolytes for those too impaired to eat properly. The pills were all of the to-be-swallowed variety, and Fate snickers at that a little.
However, to-day I woke up and the day was a miracle. I could eat. I drank. I walked and was a real girl. Still, a cough punctuates this intermediate recovery stage. A cough, however, can be dealt with. The doctor's note I procured keeps me off work for another two days or so. Hopefully I will be completely healed by then.
When I was young -- could have been eight, could have been twelve -- I contracted tonsillitis and the doctor advised my parents to have my tonsils removed so that it would not be a problem in the future. My parents promptly had my two younger sisters' tonsils extracted. Mine never did get around to their turn at the gallows.
Cut to many years later. Now, at the aged state of twenty one I have contracted some lovely strain of tonsillitis. Initially I thought it was a scratchy throat brought on by some badly chosen use of incense on my part. Alas, I woke up the next morning to a wretched condition imposed upon me. Swollen, raw, pulsating throat. Congestion. Coughing. Aches, lethargy (not the fun kind) and general woe. For two days I writhed in such a sullen disarray. Every time I woke, I merely moved a bit and took another dose of Nyquil. Sleep was a brief respite from dealing with the fact that I could not swallow even mashed potatoes without painful difficulty.
On day two I cracked and had my father take me to the doctor. She cringed visibly at the state of my throat. Swabs were taken, prescriptions called in, and other nasty things such as Gatorade were recommended. Sugar levels, you see. Electrolytes for those too impaired to eat properly. The pills were all of the to-be-swallowed variety, and Fate snickers at that a little.
However, to-day I woke up and the day was a miracle. I could eat. I drank. I walked and was a real girl. Still, a cough punctuates this intermediate recovery stage. A cough, however, can be dealt with. The doctor's note I procured keeps me off work for another two days or so. Hopefully I will be completely healed by then.
Labels: illness
-- G 'Bye, Sonya -- . ( 5.1.07 ) .