Day five after the operation, and I’m about ready to punch a wall down.
The first couple of days were… alright. No worse than the ickiness of chronic tonisllitis really, and my main concern was for my tongue, which is still numb and weird looking.
However, talking is completely off-limits now, despite a brief window of squeaking earlier in the week. This is maddening for me, as most will know I do enjoy bestowing my big fat opinion on to everyone about everything. Annoyingly, this is the week The Boy has had a brainwave about something, so I can do nothing but lie here and flap incoherently at all he says. I suspect he planned it this way.
The pain though, now that’s something else. Even my gums are swollen and angry. And for some bloody reason I’ve got an infuriating rash on the palms of my hands and shins, and my face is itchy. I cannot even imagine what I must look like to Housemate N and The Boy, as I lie in bed making Emily Rose-esque gurgling noises, itching my hands together uncontrollabley and flailing my arms around as I attempt to communicate my need for ice.
I’ve been following a few tonsillectomy forums and have picked up on what is apparently called ‘5th and 6th Day Post-Op Horror’. True, I guess I’d been a little too gung-ho about it all, having visitors over and making the most of the time off (within limits, obviously), but when I ventured this information on one site, I was smacked down immediately by a wave of smunty tonsillectomy survivors.
‘Just you wait until day five or six!’ one user spat. ‘That’s when you’ll know REAL pain’.
Alright. Jesus. Chill out.
‘I’ve given birth to three kids and day six was worse than all of it put together’, offered another, kindly.
Uh, okay? Somewhere down the thread appeared an entry from a girl who – fool like me – had dared to believe it wouldn’t be too bad either.
‘I’m so sorry!’ She practically pleads. ‘I’m on day six now and now I know what you’re talking about. I was wrong!’
I almost expected Lady Three Births to interject with ‘NO. You doubted the wisdom of the elders and now you will be sacrificed to the Tonsil Gods’, while eerie Monk chanting emanates from nowhere and Real Pain Boy looks on in glee mumbling ‘Now you know. NOW YOU KNOW’ maniacally under his breath.
So I won’t be going back to that site again.
Apparently days seven and eight will see ‘the first signs of scabbing and scab deterioration.’ So, yay. Never thought I’d be excited about scabs, but here I am! Scabs! Woo.