Legs Like An 18th Century Versailles Courtier

A Tale of Two Tonsils — Day 1


I’m just getting over a cold I caught in Canada, I’m eager to get rid of my tonsils, the time is now!

My mom and I arrived at the hospital a little late thanks to traffic but as I was told to arrive at 9:30am for 11am surgery, this was not a problem. Upon arriving, we were shown to Room 204 which was to be mine for the next 24 hours and I had to go take a pee sample. Fun times. I’m actually pretty darn good at catching pee in a little bottle but this one made it even easier by coming with a funnel. I failed to read the instructions as thoroughly as I ought so I captured too much pee. I then was a little too heavy handed with the pouring it back out into the toilet and went just below the 10ml requested. Whoops. As I hadn’t been allowed to drink after 7:30am and only then had a brief sip of water to take my medication with because I wanted to sleep more, I naturally struggled to top it up.

I gave in after two futile attempts and the nurse who came in shortly after seemed satisfied with my bottled peepee. She then handed me a form to sign and asked various questions pertaining to my health and medical background. She took my blood pressure, temperature, and heart rate then measured my leg and then went off to find pressure socks on my size. Meanwhile, my mom and I got comfy and turned on my TV.

The nurse returned and presented me with a pack of socks and then asked that I put on a cotton gown and what I thought was a hair net at first glance. It wasn’t a hair net, they were paper underwear. They were not origami nor seemed like anything I’d ever think of as ‘paper’, in fact they were sort of soft but baggy and not exceptionally comfortable. They were also easier to put on that my socks turned out to be. The hole in the foot confused me and I didn’t see the heel outline before I shoved it on so I just thrust my foot through that hole. I did eventually figure out how to put them on. They were a pristine white and made me feel like a French nobleman prancing about Versailles. I admittedly got a little vain about the shape of my legs in them.

The wait for the dude with the anesthesia was longer than expected and the wait was a hungry one. I hadn’t eaten since midnight. He finally arrived, asked questions about my experience with anesthetic, when I’d last eaten blah blah. I was meant to be operated on at 11am but it came and went. It was more like midday when they came for me.

I walked down to the operating theater (if not an antechamber to it) where I was made to lie down on one of those beds like you get in a doctors office – you wouldn’t sleep on it but it’s not a chair either. I was given a blanket, I think my blood pressure was taken again, and then they stuck the damn IV in my hand. It didn’t hurt all that much but the last time I had one it drove me nuts once I came around again. The worst part was the injection of anesthesia which made the IV hand hurt a fair bit until I thankfully passed out.

An unknown amount of time later I started to come round. I think it was my coughing fit which awoke me and I remember mumbling about having brought cough syrup with me. There was an oxygen mask on my face which was a new experience and a sharp pain in my right ear. I was really woozy and it took a good fifteen minutes to effectively sober up enough to think straight. I refused to speak initially but I received a joking compliment for my “sign language” from the nurse once I was back in my room. I awoke in the hospital bed from my room that I’d been lounging on earlier which was funny since I obviously had no recollection of how I got there.

Soon after, I was wheeled back to my room. My mom saw the oxygen mask and I think she thought I was dying. Underneath it I was just annoyed at its continued residence on my face. I really wanted that mask off so I could take a drink since my throat felt dry as crap. I didn’t have to wait too long, thankfully. My new nurse brought me a jug of water and took it off, explaining that I had had lowered oxygen in my blood after surgery but after measuring me again I was all pumped up with oxygen again. My mother decided it was necessary to poke fun about my not needing more brain damage than I already had.

I napped for I don’t know how long

So A Lot Happened…

…And I forgot I had a blog in true ADHD style apparently.

I’m not going to backtrack posts to catch up but I will give a brief overview. So yeah I got diagnosed with ADHD and after months of waiting finally got my first prescription for medication May 15th. However, at precisely the same time (not kidding, it was an hour later) I got a phone call about a study into ADHD and borderline personality disorders that I’d volunteered to take part in a few weeks prior before I’d even got an appointment with the psychiatrist.

I was interviewed, given the go ahead and naturally I had to be off medication so I couldn’t start my new drugs (5mg of methylphenidate twice a day) until May 29th. Drugs started and £79 richer thanks to the study, I noticed some improvement and thankfully only repressed appetite in the way of side-effects. June 3rd then happened and a two week trip to Canada occurred but that’s a story for another time.

I’ve been back in the country for three days now and I’m currently sat in a hospital bed unwisely resisting slumber. Considering I’ve just had surgery, I feel great, but from everything I’ve read, it’s about to become a world of pain for the next week or so. Send help.