My tonsils and I have an interesting history. A few years ago, they first demonstrated their ability to make my life miserable just before a trip to Mexico (and by that I mean a mission trip I didn't want to go to in the first place, so.... thanks God?). To this day, the best explanation I ever got was "tonsillitis." It wasn't an abscess (as I painfully found out in the Duluth hospital), nor strep throat, nor mono. But I did lose the ability to talk. I also discovered codeine makes me vomit. On the upside, Dad and I bonded for that week. Mom and Laura were in Mexico, and I needed someone to make me blended food and other such delightful things.
My next reminder of tonsil existence was the return flight to Nicaragua. A sore throat turned into a swollen throat. Changes in air pressure through 3 connections did not help. People gave me a wide berth as I looked more and more miserable, and (as I heard later from my 11 year old cousin) rather....odoriferous. This time, it was strep throat, so I spent three days in St. Paul with my uncle, chowing down on ibuprofen and watching action movies. One tonsil refused to return to normal size.
And then can this weekend. A sore throat turned into excruciating pain. No strep throat. I was prescribed a salt water gargle by the college nurse. Hmm. For some reason, I decide to cover someone else's 8 hour shift. I spend it eating double dosages of high strength Excedrin. I know Kyle has Vicodin, but I have too much pride to ask (and he was never in his room. But still...lots of pride). Walking to work on Saturday, I cry. Walking back from work, I cry. I spend the rest of the day eating applesauce and benadril in Clarissa's room, who also makes me soup, crackers, and milk. I am pleased, but still in incredible amounts of pain.
And then...Sunday morning... I take a sip of water, and something...pops. My mouth is flooded with pus, blood, and mucus. The pain leaves almost immediately, and I rejoice in the bathroom, spitting out my left tonsil's excrement. Although the discomfort is gone, I decide it's not worth going to work. After eating an omelet in the caf (delicious and pain free!) , Clarissa and Bailey tell me I should probably go to the hospital. After meeting a rapid succession of roughly 7 nurses and doctors, all with their own specialty (to woman who fills out the form on the computer, the other woman who draws blood, the man who feels my tonsils with very little warning, etc), I am prescribed penicillin, steroids, and painkillers.
Danielle and I make a trip to Hy-Vee for applesauce, milk, soup, and drugs. The drugs only cost $19.99, and the soup is on sale: 8 for $10. The Mediterranean food at the Writing Center party that night tastes delicious. I do nothing all day except glory in my fully functioning mastication system.
Still. Tonsils. Why?
