After countless years of bad sleep, I finally resolved to get my large tonsils out at age 24 so I could breathe easier. The doctor confirmed this was the right course of action after looking at my tonsils and exclaiming, “If I had these tonsils, I’d get them out!”
My surgery was scheduled less than a week later. I of course immediately turned to the Internet and read everything I could about the procedure, which meant plenty of horror stories. This, coupled with the doctor’s warning of possible arterial bleeding, kicked my anxiety into overdrive (thankfully, unnecessarily).
I arrived the morning of the surgery, bleary-eyed, wishing I could have a chicken biscuit, and grateful for my parents’ company. There were two babies ahead of me on the schedule, but the overall wait for both prep and surgery was actually quite short.
After changing into my surgery gown and cap, a wonderful nurse named Brenda covered me with two heated blankets, completing my transformation into a happy little burrito. It was pure bliss.