Alone

I am scheduled to have my tonsillectomy and turbinate reduction surgery in two days. I googled the f**k out of these procedures to mentally and physically prepare myself for what’s to come. I’ve read so many great blogs and articles from people who’ve been through this (I’ll add links later), but the one thing that I could not find is an account of someone recovering alone, with minimal assistance. This is why I have decided to blog my way through this process. I hope that this can someday help someone who is faced with the recovery process alone.

Why am I alone?

I’m geographically separated from most of my family and friends. I have several good friends in the area, most of them have children and families to care for. My brother lives and works in a city 1.5 hours away. He’s going to take the day off on the 11th to get me to and from the surgical center. If I really need help, he’ll stay longer.

Some friends on the other coast have offered to come for a week and look after me. I didn’t want to accept the offers because I don’t think I’ll be good company. Besides, who needs to see me in the condition I’ll be in. I’m reserving that splendid sight for only family.

In case of emergency

There are several friends in the area who will be checking in on me (thanks guys!), so I have the support if I need it.

Abandoned plans

I have an awesome grandmother. The kind who’s more active and lively than most people my age (36). She’s also been a notorious rule-breaker and has generally bushwhacked her way through life. For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to fly her up here and have her care for me.

When I texted her about my upcoming surgery, she responded “Great! Have all the ice cream and cake you can eat! You’ll be fine within a few days.”

Now, if this is not where you’ve started your research, you’ll probably know by now that ice cream and anything dairy is a big “no-no”. I tried telling her that, but she responded “Do it anyway! It’s the perfect excuse! That’s what I did when I had mine out when I was five.” There were several additional texts to the effect of “Forget what the doctor is telling you.”

That’s when I realized she wasn’t going to be a great nurse for this situation. Nope, not the kind of grandmother that’s going to let me be a big whining baby. Besides, she was probably busy anyway.

 

(Photo credit)

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