Under the scalpel

I have avoided the surgeon's knife for twenty-eight years now, finally succumbing to the lure on the seventeenth of the eleventh month - a date that shall go down in history, a date that shall be duly noted and added to my list of firsts. Such a shame actually because it seemed like the only real record I had going. Maybe I have simply been lucky until this moment, or I was very careful and sensible as a child but either way I was untouched (sounds rather virginal and chaste, no?) and God's original creation, copyright and everything (rather religious territory I know), now I feel all ammended and surgically altered, violated even.

Okay so it is a huge exaggeration on my part, as always. It's not like I have had some major reconstructive surgery or some cosmetic enhancement, the term 'under the surgeon's knife' seems to be very synonymous with plastic surgery these days but I can assure you that in this instance I use it purely in a medical sense, no increase in bust or sculpted thighs here I'm afraid. Besides I am very anti all things plastic surgery, I just can't fathom the whole idea of letting a surgeon play God.* It's pathetic that we live in a world where people can just go shopping for a completely new body, a world where vanity extends beyond common sense, a world where it seems money can buy you everything after all. I am ashamed that fakeness today is celebrated and has become quite the social norm, that individuals are no longer that but just carbon copies and replicas of each other, whatever happened to being unique and different eh?

Anyway, enough of that cosmetic surgery rant, let me get back to the core of this post - tonsillectomy, that's right, I merely had my tonsils removed, you know, those spongy things located at the back of the mouth/throat area. Deemed utterly useless since they seemed to be slacking at their fighting infection duties, it was time to fish them out. Common procedure really. I knew the particulars involved and was absolutely prepared for the painful recovery process. I consider myself fairly brave so wasn't all that apphrehensive or frightened at the thought of the actual surgery, I was more concerned about being butt naked under that oh so attractive hospital gown. Horror scenarios flitted through my mind, I didn't want to do a Janet and accidentally flash myself to all and sundry. And the no make-up law had me worried too. No make-up? In public? You mean to say not even a teeny weeny bit of foundation? You mean to say that my face has got to be completely naked too? What's with all the nudity dammit, it's a hospital for God's sake, not a naturist site. However the most scariest element for a self-confessed junk food addict like myself had to be the not being able to eat prospect. A diet consisting of soft food didn't seem all that appealing to me, surviving two weeks without pizza, chips, crisps, chocolate and the like would be tough as well as torturous.

I treated myself to a comfy 'all over heart print robe' and a pair of cute 'fair isle inspired slipper socks', both from Jane Norman, as I was meant to stay in hospital overnight, not just a simple case of day surgery like I had initially assumed. The dressing gown is beige-ish-brown, decorated with white hearts and glitter in entirety. And it's so trendy that it has a hood so you can be all Little Red Riding Hood meets mean boxer. Whereas the slipper socks - that's right, slipper socks - are just a wonderful and, not to mention, absolute genius creation. This adorable hybrid is a Fair Isle knit of white and beige decorated with hearts, with the addition of a couple of heart pom poms dangling from the top of each sock. Fair Isle knits are huge and mega popular this winter, making these slipper socks very fashionable and stylish. Both purchases helped cheer me up and ease the anticipation of having to spend the night in a hospital ward next to possible nutters and perverts.

I wouldn't recommend reading the following unless of course you are extremely interested in the whole tonsil removal recovery process, am afraid it may get rather repetitive and bland - there is probably nothing of a wildly fascinating nature that will be presented here, just a glimpse into my fortnight of suffering, cue lots of whining and whinging. Don't say I didn't warn you! I was contemplating whether to write it as a general summary or in a diary format. The latter seems more suitable as the former requires me to be in a post recovery frame of mind, a stage which seems nowhere near in sight at the minute. Besides a day by day account is probably more manageable and easier to update so here goes:

Day 1: Day of surgery, otherwise known as D-Day. Had to check into my allocated ward at twelve noon which meant no food or drink from six hours prior to this. I had a massive takeaway meal the evening before, including the gorgeous and delicious Tennessee Toffee Pie. Oh how I could murder a piece right now. It was all very The Last Supper like. Spent a good few hours in the waiting room, secretly going all eagle-eye on the dreaded hospital gown that the other patients were parading around in, done in a very Terminator scan mode type manner I'll have you know. It didn't seem as bad as I had pictured in my head, looked pretty secure from the back. Went through the formalities before heading down to the operating theatre, you know, the much anticipated dressing of the infamous hospital gown (I whipped on my sexy heart print robe over it just in case, wasn't going to take any chances), the standard tests, the standard questions and so forth, you get my drift. Oh and my slipper socks got a fair few compliments along the way. Got my general anaesthetic at three, the anaesthetic person (anaesthesiologist I am told - wow, what a mouthful) was very impressed with my veiny hand, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the recovery room with a sore throat, some bloke stroking my hair, and a clock that appeared to be somewhere in the region of half five to six-ish. Scary stuff. Almost three hours of my life I will never be able to account for. It's given me a slight insight into the world of those who have had their drinks spiked or have likewise been drugged to the point of unconsciousness. I can only imagine their confusion and frustration as they desperately attempt to deduce the events that occurred during that blackout period, I mean it's not like I woke up undressed, disorientated and covered in bruises in some unknown location. Now that there is proper scary stuff. Where knowledge is power, loss of control can only be the horrifying opposite. Yes, we all know I am prone to digression, anyway back to the recovery room - they continued to monitor my blood pressure, pulse rate and temperature whilst informing me that I would not receive food until the next morning which was a major blow as I was practically starving at this point and under the impression that I would be fed post surgery. I didn't suffer any side-effects from the anaesthesia, only mild shivering, and was soon wheeled back to the ward where I hid behind the privacy of drawn curtains. Nurses kept intruding in order to regularly observe my physical health, iced water was kind on my throat and although I had to demand painkillers, they were an important component in easing the pain. Most of my mouth was still numb but my main focus was to get through to Thursday morning so that I could calm the rumbling stomach noises that were making themselves pretty known, loud and clear. Gossip magazines and much sleep was the key. One more quick thought: I am now officially without tonsils - tonsils R.I.P.

Day 2: The day I can officially eat - yipee! I'm not usually a fan of breakfast but so not the case today. It was either cereal or toast, now I absolutely abhor milk in its natural state so cereal was off limits, leaving me with the only other option on offer - toast. Was slightly nervous about how my throat would react to such a substance but the toast was really soft and I managed to consume it without any trouble at all. After much deliberation over medication, I was finally discharged from the hospital. Didn't know what to make of their advice to eat as normal but was eager to get home, especially as the one measly slice of toast they had given me surprisingly hadn't exactly worked wonders for my hunger. I felt really feeble once I got home, and couldn't bear to do anything that didn't involve lying down. Sweetcorn rice with a splash of plain yoghurt was all I wolfed down today and much to my amazement it wasn't really difficult to swallow. I tried my regular mango juice but found it tricky to gulp down and so had to resort back to water. I don't necessarily care too much for water but at the moment I have no other choice. A codeine-paracetamol combo, and Ibuprofen are my pain relief companions, and resting is my favourite activity.

Day 3: Woke up to intense nausea. The pain has increased too. I actually vomited a couple of times too which aggravated my throat further and even made it bleed. The horrid nausea persisted for the most part of the day, and my appetite marginally decreased - even the thought of food repulsed me. I forced myself to some bread and cream of mushroom soup, took a good few hours to eat it, mainly due to all the queasiness, the warm soup however was very much soothing on the throat. I made some Uncle Ben's Express Egg Fried Rice later, via microwave of course, but struggled to eat more than a couple of spoonfuls, it hurt far too much. A few sips of Oasis Citrus Punch was a huge mistake and wrong judgement on my part, it burnt my throat no end - am thinking no fruit juices especially of the citrus kind, best not to stray too far from water actually. By the evening I was craving pizza, chips and pasta, I settled for chips, attempting to chow down some extra soft homemade variety, and believe me when I say they were really soft, they were like a step away from mashed potato, yet still extremely tough on my throat. Talking is difficult and painful as well, words come out very muffled and I sound retarded which is not funny but must be fantastically hilarious to those who have to listen to me. Have decided to keep speech to a bare minimum in order to avoid becoming a great source of amusement to others. There are comedians for that you know, let them earn their living.

Day 4: More nausea and vomiting. I figured it was a result of all the codeine but was in a pretty much catch-22 situation at this point - yes, being physically sick was probably caused by the painkillers but I couldn't wean myself off them because they helped alleviate all the agony and torment. Had a few mouthfuls of very soft mash with a chunk of butter thrown in, couldn't manage any more because I just felt so bleurgh, tried Uncle Ben's Express Mushroom Rice later but didn't fare any better with it, feels like I am swallowing broken glass. Even water doesn't go down without a fight. Eventually, after an ice lolly to soothe the affected area, I opted for strawberry jelly and ice-cream which was so much easier to slurp down and very pleasant to my tastebuds. I haven't had jelly for yonks, had forgotten how wobbly and slippery it can be, it's a devil to scoop up.

Day 5: Nausea remained but no vomiting - yay! My appetite increased too so I welcomed a plate of mash and spaghetti (the tin kind) which went down rather easily - double yay! Later I had some rice and indulged in some pasta. All very small helpings but still way more food than the last two days combined. Looking good.

Day 6: Level of nausea has toned down a notch. Am trying to resist painkillers but it is a fairly impossible task. Along with the obvious throat pain, there are also episodes of earache - this is to be expected and is nothing out of the ordinary. And sorry if this is too much information but have realised that today is the fifth day I have resisted opening/emptying my bowels, could be due to the medication or the small amount of food passing through my system or just the general lack of physical movement as I have pretty much just been lying around in bed. I have noted mild itching too, another side-effect, nothing worrying though. More strawberry jelly and ice-cream today, my throat simply adores jelly and ice-cream, it's effortless swallowing at its best. Rice yet again, later followed by mash and tinned spaghetti. Still quite a struggle to shove down my healing throat but one must eat.

Day 7: Nausea has diminished quite a bit. The pain is more bearable as well, in fact I haven't relied on painkillers so much today. Light at the end of the tunnel perhaps? Haven't felt majorly hungry either but forced myself to some bread and, cream of caulifower and broccoli soup - the warm soup is so appeasing on my rough throat. I used to be cynical but am now an avid believer of the healing properties of soup - I have been reformed people! Had a slice of toffee gateau later which quite literally slid down my throat as it was so super soft. Speech still hasn't improved much though.

Day 8: Bowel movement - hurrah! Although after much constipation I must add. Sorry if it is all too graphic. It was a trying moment but I remained focused, determined, undeterred and undefeated - how's that for fighting talk eh? The pain has subsided which means I am going easy on the painkillers. I also feel so much more energetic so it seems sleeping for long periods of the day has been abandoned for now. Succumbed to bread and cream of mushroom soup today, seems like I am getting rather accustomed to the almighty soup. And more jelly and ice-cream - looks like I have discovered a new dessert too. Supper was mash and spaghetti which I am becoming quite a fan of as well. I have noticed upon opening my mouth really wide, which I now am able to do, that most of the white bits that had replaced my extracted tonsils (I believe they are scabs) have disappeared - a good sign as it means recovery is almost complete - woo hoo!

Day 9: Have reached the stage where the act of eating requires no great effort or thought. There are still a few white scabs present, and my throat and ear tends to hurt from time to time but the pain is very slight. Stuck to bread and, cream of cauliflower and broccoli soup today, sweetcorn rice in the evening, followed by a piece of sticky toffee cheesecake which had been calling out to me from the fridge all day.

Day 10: My voice still doesn't sound quite the same, and my throat still does not feel quite right but complete recovery is nigh, I just know it. Energy levels have shot back up again, I don't think I slept once during the day, I have also not been heading to bed early like I was in the early stages, think my body is actually tired of sleep. I tried Uncle Ben's Express Mixed Pepper Rice which was a tad spicy on the throat but definitely not lethal. Constipation is still ever present. Had a plate full of pasta in the evening, and even sneaked in a few pieces of chocolate which tasted so heavenly after such a drought.

Day 11: I am stuck in a limbo of some sort, my recovery seems to have plateaued. I am only a step away from being a-okay but have failed to reach this stage over the last few days. I can distinctly feel the last of the scabs in my throat, am urging for them to drop off. Although it appears like my throat can handle stronger material, I am still taking it easy with good ol' bread, and cream of cauliflower and broccoli soup. I know I should pluck up the courage to switch to grittier, more textured food but am being a bit of a wimp. Had chips in the evening and a stick of Twirl - mmmm.

Day 12: I shall no longer bore you with this insipid, day by day drivel. I have felt like a baby on puréed food for the last couple of weeks but can now resort back to normal food which means hello delights of the junk variety. Have embarked upon my one woman eating mission with sandwiches, crisps, chocolate and a selection of pick 'n' mix sweets. Appetite has most definitely increased and cravings are ever stimulated. That tiny scab is still refusing to budge but is not hindering me in any way. Yes, my throat hurts from time to time but here I refer to my actual throat not where the tonsils used to reside. My voice is fine but sounds a tad odd to me, don't know if it's just because I haven't spoken properly for so long and am out of practice or because it has to adjust to all the extra space back there. Constipation is also easing up. As you can see, the recovery process hasn't been anywhere near as awful as I had been made to believe by many (read: liars) out there - days 3-6 were by far the worst, it was uphill after that, with day 8 distinctly being the beginning of the end. I have a couple of more days left before I return to that dreaded thing called work - the docs deem you unfit for a standard two week period not only as it is assumed to be the general healing duration but also so that you can confine yourself indoors and avoid any infection from germ-ridden people. Oh yeah, I haven't lost the copious amount of weight that the majority seem to do post surgery, I feel so duped, it's not fair - I demand a weight loss. Not a huge amount, a couple of pounds would be nice thanks, you know, as a bonus for the ordeal I have faced. The last couple of weeks have turned me into such a hermit (that's hermit, not Kermit the green frog puppet), time to be a social recluse no more, watch out world, here I come, after I order myself a gigantic pizza with some cheesy garlic bread that is. Ooooh, and some cheese and onion potato skins. And maybe some banoffee pie too, we'll see.

* Cosmetic surgery = surgeon playing God whereas medical surgery = surgeon playing hero. Got that? Okay. Good.