Thursday, January 13, 2011

I was told there’d be silence

Someone actually said it was “a husband’s dream come true,” the fact that I wouldn’t be able to speak for a week. I’m not sure it was a total dream come true, though, because not being able to talk was just the beginning of it. I couldn’t do much of anything except point, wince, and make stupid hand motions that didn’t make any sense because mostly I was waving off the scorching pain that was my throat.
I had my tonsils out.
Let me first clear up the myth that says you can eat as much ice cream as you want. You can’t. They don’t let you do that anymore. However, you can have as many popsicles and Jello as your heart desires, and trust me, your heart won’t desire that much of it.
Secondly, there is the myth that when adults get their tonsils removed, it is a far more painful surgery with a longer recovery time than children. This is partly true, but in my opinion the words do not do justice to the days of suffering and agony that followed my surgery. Without going into detail, let’s just say I’ve had three children and if I had to choose between a tonsillectomy and another baby, I’d be out buying carseats.
But beyond all of that, the fact remains that I, CEO CFO and Head Cheese of this household, was down and out for a good week and was literally forced to sit back and watch the world go by. And there’s nothing I could say about it. Because when I tried to talk it felt like someone had again poured gasoline down my throat and struck a match on my tongue to light it. I had become a mom of few words.
This is very difficult for someone who is normally a mom of many words. Three young kids running in different directions, and I often feel like a cowboy wrangling them up and sound like (my mom says) a drill sergeant. Something as simple as getting up, dressed, breakfast, and book bag packing takes some serious vocal chords in this house, not to mention physically running from room to room to find lost homework and combs to make them look semi-presentable in the public eye.
But not this week! This week, daddy’s been in charge while I sit silently on a chair, working really hard just to swallow an ice chip. From the corner I yell (and by yell, I mean the faintest whisper you ever heard) “you need to go upstairs and brush your teeth.”
They all stop, look at me blankly, and continue doing what they were doing.
So I try charades. WAVE ARMS FOR ATTENTION. POINT TO CHILDREN. MAKE LITTLE RUNNING FINGERS. POINT UP THE STAIRS. MOTION BRUSHING TEETH.
They all stop, look at me blankly, and continue doing what they were doing.
My charades get louder, interspersed with wimpy little sounds and angry facial expressions. My pointing is a little more violent and my teeth have probably sprouted fangs.
They all stop, look at me blankly, and finally says, “mom’s trying to say something.”
Eventually they figure it out and I sit back and remember when I could talk, and how many times I would have had to repeat that command to my children before they actually went up and brushed their teeth. The sad realization is that they don’t listen to me, whether or not there is even anything to hear.

Note: I wanted to add that today I had the energy to actually shave my legs, dry my hair and venture out of my pajamas. Not everyone has the same experience having their tonsils out, and I can only wish that everyone else's is better than mine! Long week of recovery, but I think I'm finally gonna live. A few more days until I'm back to normal, and then let the eating frezy begin -- I've got a lot of weight to put back on and I can't wait to do it!

1 comments:

Koala Bear Writer said...

oh, wow, I sympathize with you. Doesn't sound like fun. I just had a kidney stone, but at least it only lasted for a half day (though like you, if given the choice, I'd have had another baby instead). Glad you are doing better now.

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