Tonsillectomy

I had my tonsils removed yesterday, after 15 months of suffering from Tonsil Stones and they are finally gone. It was a strange experience:

On the approach to the operation, people kept on asking if I was nervous, which I wasn't. My theory was that the Doctors and Nurses do these operations all of the time and I would just be considered another number, so why be nervous.

Off I went first thing yesterday morning to Homerton Hospital, spending the first 10 minutes lost in the corridors. The hospital was abandoned and empty, it was 7:30am after all. While walking aimlessly I ended up in the Maternity ward and the MRI scan unit. After two employees took pity on me I ended up in the Day Stay Unit.

After being checked in, six women were walked through to the unit, me included. We were shown to individual cubicles with some fetching robes, hairnets, disposable knickers and medical stockings - I have never looked so sexy! I spend the next hour reading magazines, answering the same questions (what's your name? What's your date of birth? Is this your address? etc.), cracking jokes to the nurses and relaxing.

Eventually I'm collected to go and meet my anaesthetic team. I walk into the smallest room known to man, which hosts 5 people and a gurny. I can't help but joke about how it reminds me of my blood test, when I passed out with one woman and woke up with 6 additional people around me.
Once again I'm asked the same questions and I advise them to add a random question in to throw the patient, this ends up confusing one of the nurses. The last thing I remember is the oxygen mask going over my face.

An hour or two later, I'm gently woken by a kind lady who tells me that all is over and wheeled around the ward to another cubicle and placed in a chair, about 5 seconds after vomiting. I then snooze and sleep for the following hour, in between having my blood pressure taken. After about an hour, the drugs which were given to me finally overcome me like a warm hug and I wake up properly.

I'm now sore, achy, tired and weak. I've not eaten all day. They call Rowan and give me some jelly. I am then moved to the TV room where I am subjected to two hours of Jeremy Kyle, which is possibly worse than my sore throat and inability to swallow. I eventually ask the nurses to call Rowan again to find that he's been waiting in reception for an hour and a half due to someones incompetence. I go to the reception to find him asking the receptionist to once again call the ward, frantic out of his mind.

We head home and I spend the rest of the day napping and sipping drinks, I takes me over an hour to drink a cup of cold soup...so this is my life now for the next two weeks: cold to tepid food and drink with no spice, roll on July 16th.