Rinse and repeat for many many years. As I said. In my early twenties, my doctor said that instead of constantly trying to treat the problem, let's just whip them out. Easy peasy, no mess, no fuss. I was working back then, and had Private Healthcare. Go me. So, remembering when the 0dd Sister had hers out as a wee ickle child and how much she A) didn't suffer, and B) got spoiled, I decided that yes, I would like to have them out.
When I woke up, I felt like crap. Things got worse when my expectations of Jelly & Ice Cream were replaced with a stern doctor telling me the BEST thing for it is hard, rough, crunchy stuff. He may have been a doctor, but I was of the impression I had upset him. So, wholegrain toast. Museli. Raw Carrot.
What followed can only be described as a hellishly SHIT four weeks of recovery. I had been told that adults suffer a little more with the recovery that Little 0dd Sisters. A little more. Gemma was chilled out for a week before going back to school. I was crying, in agony, and wanted to die. My throat was bleeding, I popped stitches, everything I ate was like trying to swallow a roll of razor wire, everything I drank was like bleach mixed with acid mixed with firey burny death.
You may think I am over-reacting, but honestly, I was a mess. The doctor took one look at me a few days later and signed me off work for a MONTH.
If you've never hacked up a stitch with a globule of your very being attached - and felt it tear from the back of your throat - then you can't appreciate how I felt.
But I digress. I had the operation in order to prevent future Nasty Throats.
Within a year, my throat felt pretty much how it did beforehand. Granted, I wasn't getting Tonsillitis very often because I had no tonsils. But I was still getting evil sore throats. But the catch now was, I had nothing else to remove. And to make things more interesting, when my throat went, my voice trundled off with it. Sometimes, I'd have nothing but a bit of a whisper, other times as I have been told on so many occasions, I would sound like a Ringwraith/Nazgul from Lord of the Rings.
Not sure what I mean? Watch The Fellowship of the Ring, and when the Black Rider arrives in Hobbiton and says the phrase "Shire... Baggins..." to the scared Hobbit... THAT is how my voice goes.
As I alluded on TwitBook late last week, I have a cold. Yes, when I get a cold, I like to poke fun at sick men and ManFlu, but it really IS just a cold. I'm still pottering around doing stuff - I just feel a bit grotty with it. Once again, however, I KNEW it was coming, because my throat feels like hedgehogs have been shagging in it.
The trouble is, with my already shit excuse for a human body, when something simple like a cold hits, it feels like someone has reversed over me in a bus full of fatties. I've got so little energy, my whole body hurts, and I just feel poopy.
Kellie - who has today off to do some stuff - has been telling me to try napping. I hate sleeping during the day, almost as much as my body hates sleeping at night, but since she popped out an hour ago, I've been trying my damnest to go to sleep. Just a little bit.
But, no. It's not happening at all, so I've given up and here I am. Hopefully I'll bore myself to sleep (as I probably do most of you!) and even though I know it'll do me good, it would appear that my body has an aversion to going to sleep when I want it. Some days I am sat here and no matter what I am doing, my head flops and plops forwards as my body tries to shut itself down, but when I WANT it to do it, noooo...
So, being a poorly boy, I am now giving up on sleep, and going to entertain myself watching something on the laptop. If that doesn't send me to the land of nod, I don't know what will.
And as a sidenote: we made a shit-ton (an actual measurement in this house!) of puff-pastry Mince Pie Parcels yesterday. And I am home, alone, hungry... Plus, my voice of reason AND my conscience aren't telling me to NOT eat them, so I suppose, if I have too...
Om nom nom and nom.