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Friday 13th was as good a day as any to have my tonsils out and as we set off, a group of wild turkeys came to wish me well, or at least give me a good start.
I’m very fond of these birds.
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In the absence of a pheasant, they would do.
You see, in the past I have on several occasions been faced with some sort of imminent problem that was resolved after I spotted a pheasant.
Thus are superstitions formed!
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Friday the 13th holds no such worries for me, the number 15 being the one I worry about. In fact I don’t like any number that ends in 5, though I couldn’t say why.
However I am not obsessive about it. My phone number ends in that number and I would prefer it didn’t but I don’t fret about it.
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The surgery centre is in Albany which is an hour away, so we started out with plenty of time because traffic can get heavy near the state capital.
The land flattens out quite a bit down there.
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Still, I found subjects to photograph.
Though I wasn’t able to figure out exactly what all this was in aid of.
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The best I could come up with is that this is a local company of some sort putting on a display of patriotism which has quite widely varying ideals these days.
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This surgery is what should have happened back in June when I expected to have a cyst removed. I won’t write about that fiasco again.
Luckily, I found a different specialist who would do the job properly and two months wasn’t so long to wait, although I had been trying to get the problem resolved for 18 months.
When undergoing surgery, I like to be informed, to know what to expect, so I had watched a few YouTube videos. As we drove along I felt butterflies flitting about in my stomach.
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Hoosick River at Albany
Why was I getting nervous?
Maybe it should, but having surgery has never made me anxious, not even when I had a spinal fusion.
These butterflies were more about fear of another disappointment. What if there is a traffic snarl?
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With so much time built in, that was unlikely to be a problem.
What if the doctor is suddenly unavailable?
Such things do happen.
Sitting in the waiting room, I had ample time to do all my daily wordle and worldle and yeardle quizzes. Then I could only twiddle thumbs for what seemed like an eternity.
The moment they called my name, the butterflies vanished.
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A nurse ushered me to a bed beside a chatty child whose mother was encouraging him with cheerful dialogue. He was having the same procedure, immediately before me.
My nurse meanwhile had abandoned a disappointing vein and was stabbing at another.
“Am I hurting you?”
she asked after a while.
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“No”, I said, “but feel free to try another.”
She persisted and I now have a new term for my medical dictionary: Dancing veins.
Apparently they kept evading the needle.
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Finally two hours after my arrival, they came to get me.
“Oh. You are the senior!”
the anesthesiology assistant exclaimed.
No cheery encouragement for me!
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The first time I was anesthetized was in 1971. Back then they used to administer a sedative before you set off to the OR. I remember saying to the doctor how I wished I could always feel so wonderful.
“It’s illegal” he advised me.
In that state, I wouldn’t have cared if they had chopped a foot off. Nowadays you get that euphoria for a nano-second before lights out
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That was that and soon we were on the way home.
This time, the cyst and everything surrounding it is gone as well as the other potentially troublesome tonsil.
Eighteen months ago I had been discouraged from having this surgery, told that it was very painful, not recommended.
A cyst, I was informed, was nothing to be concerned about and as such, I wasn’t. But as it grew in size and pressed against the back of my throat, it really bothered me, maybe because I have a high gag reflex.
Beyond a certain age, it seems you are supposed to accept ailments. After all, the body wears out. Why bother with repairs, so near the end?
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The first time I was told I had a condition I would have to live with, I was 40. The clinic was only interested in young athletes, apparently.
One could be offended, but what would be the point?
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It has been hard to find helpful physicians, but I am lucky to have succeeded.
And tomorrow I shall be going back to Clifton Park for the first of a series of knee injections.
What an exciting life!
Thank you, Carolyn, for the wonderful news that you are feeling well and will live a long life!
Joanna x
Ha! I don’t exactly feel well at the moment as the healing takes some time, but I am doing my best to keep occupied and not think about it!
Perhaps a tub of ice cream could help?!
Joanna x
Possibly even several!
Hope the recovery goes well, and quickly.
Thank you. Bit sore right now but I keep telling myself how much better I shall feel…soon!
Can you still yodel?
More like a squeak!
I hope they gave you jelly or ice cream after surgery – isn’t that what one gets when your tonsils are removed? I hope you recover soon … there are autumn colours waiting to be photographed!
I’ve been managing with yogurt and oatmeal. They cheerfully told me that the pain gets worse from day 5-7. Can’t wait for that. It won’t stop me from going out if I think there are photos to be had.