When I was a kid, I begged to have my tonsils removed, but my parents said it was too dangerous. At the age of 50, I decided it was finally time to have my tonsils removed after a lifetime of struggling with sore throats, sleep apnea, snoring, and tonsil crypts. I sought a referral from my PCP to an ENT, and was evaluated in a sleep lab. The results affirmed my eligibility for surgery on a clinical basis so I scheduled surgery. Before surgery, I found the Tonsillectomy Recovery site and read it over and over to prepare. Every day after surgery I read what to expect over the next day and often entered my status into the blog. The encouragement and companionship I felt during those two weeks of almost near isolation were a Godsend.
Just before my surgery, I spent a week in hospital with my mom who had undergone a triple bypass just a few weeks before my surgery was scheduled. Knowing her surgery was coming, I didn’t tell my parents about my plans until toward the end of her stay in hospital. It was then that she told me why they refused my request for tonsillectomy as a child. It turns out that her OB had a daughter who died of complications from tonsillectomy (in the late 1950s). He counseled my parents to not put me at risk. Finally knew why, but was still committed to the process and proceeded.
No one should undertake this decision lightly. It is extraordinarily difficult for adults. That said, I am so very, very glad I did it and know that my experience was as good as it could have been. I had no complications post-op. I was very careful and fortunate. Having the support of family and friends was essential — someone to manage the immediate post-op medication regimen and stay with me so that if there was a bleed, I had someone to get you to the hospital. But, after a few days, being alone was all I wanted. I was a miserable wreck with bad breath from the scabs who prayed for the next day — one day closer to being healed. I struggled with the typical healing pain of the scabs that felt like I was swallowing shards of glass and knife-like stabbing pain in my ears when I tried to sleep. My best advice is to keep drinking water and take all the meds, even though you feel like you might be getting past the pain — it’s there in the background!
The gratitude I feel for Greg’s mission to improve what is a terrible, painful, and lonely experience is immense — thank you Greg!!!
(Editor’s Note: Aw shucks)
Thanks Kitty!