Take Them Out Already!

I woke up frozen, dizzy, and sweating and there is some kind of growth on my right tonsil which, between me and the World Wide Web, I firmly believe should have been removed when I was younger. The tonsil, of course, because now I’m being penalized unfairly for never coming down with the worst of tonsillitis when I was a child.
I never got the disease, so I never got its namesakes removed.
And guess whose extra skin in the back of her throat catches every kind of bacteria and germ that it can catch in its foldy, roomy skin?

Every time I go to the doctor for any kind of winter rot living the high life on my tonsils, I beg and plead to please, please, please put me under and cut them out because that would save me a ton of money, time, and literal headache.
Every time, this is what I get in answer to my request for surgery, "Oh Sarah! You are SO funny! We don't need to go THAT far! You just have a little bacteria and we'll clear it up in no time with this heavy-duty antibiotic; now remember, when you’re on antibiotics, there’s no drinking, no sex, and you’re coming to wind up with a raging yeast infection or at least a few cystic zits on your chin. And this might not work – you may have developed a tolerance to it! Call me if you’re not feeling better in a week! Drink fluids! Stop at the desk with your checkbook in the 'open' position!"

This time, if things get to the point where I am sick enough to go in to the doctor, I am going to prepare a speech and a fucking PowerPoint that details how much time I spend suffering from a low grade fever and a knot of white crap that feels like a hairball lodged in the back of my throat. The title of my presentation?
When I finish with the slide show, I'm going to lie back on the exam table and refuse to move until surgery is scheduled. (Note to self: Wear comfortable but cute sweats – maybe layer with a long-sleeve tee-shirt?) I'm pretty sure that stone-cold, physical insistence will be the winning move for me and I’ll finally get these things out of my neck, or at least get me enough Valium to make me not care so much about being mildly sick from Thanksgiving until Easter.

How hard can it be?
I open up; you put on a little headlamp and start choppin’!
You would THINK that doctors would be thrilled to have someone so willing and accepting of the surgical removal of a body part.
Unfortunately, it seems as though I may need a new and less responsible physician in order to effectuate the needed change in my neck.
Call me if you know one.
I could also use the week off of work and the crown I hang with? They would LOVE to see me unable to talk and I bet I would score some sweet sympathy gifts to go with any Holiday cheer in wrapping paper that might be coming my way.
And I would totally be on liquid diet, so I wouldn’t gain during the Festival of Food that my office becomes in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

OK. Now I’m either getting really serious about this or I am delirious with fever but having my tonsils removed seems to be the thing for me on so many crucial levels that I am calling Dr. I’m So Righteous right now and demanding outpatient surgery. I’ll totally stop by this afternoon and she can see for herself the hairball-like mucus, the fever, and the general malaise that, yes, would all clear up on their own but that, yes, will return in about 2 weeks and continue to cycle for the next 4 months.
Bitch better take my tonsils out.

arizonasarah at 2:53 p.m.

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