The Virginity Monologues

Well. I did it. I survived my tonsillectomy.

The morning of the surgery, I was okay. I was okay on the subway ride to the hospital, with Karen next to me. I was okay talking to the anesthesiologist. He even remarked on how chipper I was considering I was about to have surgery. I was okay talking to my doctor. The second I walked into the OR, I was NOT okay.

I was not okay when I laid down on the operating table, looking up at the big light above my head. I watched my blood pressure spike higher and higher as everyone moved methodically around me, covering me with a warming blanket, putting an IV in my arm, basically strapping me to the table. My hands started to shake and for the first time since I had scheduled the surgery, I wanted to bolt. I wanted to run out of there as fast as I could. I didn't want them cutting open my throat. I was SCARED.

Sooner than I expected, the room start to get fuzzy. I remember remarking that I was starting to feel funny to the anesthesiologist. I don't remember anything after that until he was waking me up, telling me that everything had gone really well. My first question was about my blood pressure. My second question was asking my doctor how big my tonsils had been.

"Enormous," was her reply.

They moved me to the Stage 1 recovery room. My mouth felt very, very, very weird. The stitches made it feel like I had something stuck in the back of my throat but it hurt to much to try and get it out. It was... uncomfortable. The nurse asked me how I felt.

"It hurts," I said.

She gave me some Tylenol with codeine and told me to go to sleep.

For 45 minutes I was in and out. Waking every time the blood pressure cuff tightened on my arm.

Finally I was awake. And I wanted WATER.

When she told me she couldn't give me any, I started to cry. I still had the IV in my arm and it hurt. The tylenol with codeine never completely dulled the pain and I had cotton mouth from breathing through my mouth. Everything felt out of control. And I wanted water.

She relented and gave me ice chips, which were actually perfect.

45 minutes later they moved me to Stage 2 recovery, where Karen could come and be with me. She helped me get dressed, she got me bottles of water and she orchestrated Email Boy picking me up with his car, and was in constant contact with my sister who was in the process of flying to New York.

An orderly wheeled me out and finally, finally- I was going home.

I could spend HOURS writing about the next 8 days. About the vomiting on Day 3 that nearly did me in. About the overwhelming sense that I would never feel better on Day 5. About the constant and unrelenting pain that was as bad as I imagined it would me. About how food became a burden, a necessity to stop the vomiting, but something that I absolutely hated having to deal with.

But really, all that matters, is that I'm getting much, much better. My first foray out of the house, I worried about passing out every single second until I was back on my couch. Today, I spent all morning with Spatch and even contemplated a very easy gym visit, which I nixed after a run for the A train seriously winded me.

I am eating. I don't wake up and want to die from the pain. I am still controlled by my pain meds, but I'm looking forward to weaning myself off them.

Monday, I go back to work and I'm ready.

Labels: tonsils

I’m overwhelmed with my life right now.

Last weekend was amazing. Absolutely amazing. I had the opportunity to attend a wedding that absolutely blew my mind. Being in the presence of love- real love- is a gift.

The reception was at a place called Rubalad that is absolutely impossible to describe. It’s a warehouse-y place, divided into various rooms. The decorations- insane. Large spider webs with a gigantic cardboard lipstick in the center. Fake vine strung all over the staircase. Mannequins with missing limbs, adorn a wall in the Dancing Room. A gigantic igloo is a place for couples to take care of some business. There are more things to look at than I will ever have time for.

I drink champagne heartily. I dance with my friends. I laugh as Ames uses a broken off mannequin arm to grab everyone’s asses. I spy on the couples getting it on the bathroom. I make out with everyone. And I do mean EVERYONE. I swim in happiness.

When the car service picks me up at midnight…. I feel complete.

And now, I’m waking up at 5 am every night, trying to remember everything I need to get done before 7 am tomorrow morning, when I check in at the hospital. This morning it was an ice pack and a game for the Playstation that my sister is bringing for me that roused me from my sleep.

I’m buried in budget spreadsheets at work, and I’m trying to coordinate Karen at the hospital with me, Email Boy picking me up from the hospital, and my sister flying in tomorrow. And in the meantime, I’m trying not to let the fear get the best of me.

Because I am scared. But everytime it gets too bad, I just pick up my BRAND NEW 80 gb iPod and look at the back, where I had it engraved with "More Cowbell" and I smile smugly to myself because I am the coolest girl EVER.

So everyone say GOODBYE to my tonsils and don’t be upset when you don’t hear from me for a few days, while I spend most of my time sleeping to escape the pain.

Today's Title from: The Good Life by Kanye West and T-Pain

Labels: tonsils

Dear Tonsillectomy-

Remind me to stop reading everything I can about you. Its starting to scare me. I know you're a whole month away, but I am the kind of girl who embarks on road trips with lots and lots of maps. I prepare. I plan. I want to know what I'm getting into ahead of time. So, I google about you. I google about recovery and about pain (and quite frankly, what I read about the weeping that takes place at Days 4-9, well, I'm very, very afraid. And so should my roommates be also).

And, Tonsillectomy, lets have a frank discussion here. I read that you take away people's taste. And that sweet things completely lose their flavor.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT ALL ABOUT?

So help me, sweet baby jesus, if you do that to me, if you ruin my ability to enjoy a glass of cold, sweet wine or a perfect little square of Godiva chocolate, I will beat you to a bloody pulp.

And please, try not to make the pain too unbearable, mmmmkay? You've got a month to plan and prepare.

Glad we got that squared away.

Smooches-
Chloe

Today's Title from: Don't You Know Who I Think I Am by Fall Out Boy

Labels: tonsils

Put it on your calendars, kids, my tonsillectomy is scheduled for November 14th. It probably should be done sooner, but I've got a conference in mid-October to plan around and my dad is coming into town early November, plus there's the 3 week recovery time to factor in. My Thanksgiving is probably going to be shot, but I just eat lots of mashed potatoes and call it good, I suppose.

The end of Oscar has been as anti-climactic as our relationship (out of bed, that is. In bed it was plenty climactic). The first day was hard-ish. My only real breakdown was when the return text from him came- that was suprisingly kind and gracious. But every minute since then has been easier, probably because I've been killing my feelings for him for weeks now. There's nothing left anymore.

And being footloose and fancy free apparently agrees with me. Last night, as I made my way from work to the animal shelter that I volunteer at in East Harlem, then over to a friends house afterwards- it was a virtual parade of men hitting on me. It has never happened with the frequency and intensity that it did last night. My head was spinning. One particular guy was incredibly persistent about getting my number, and it took some time to get him to acquiese to just giving me his number (always what I do when men are persistent on the street. Best way to avoid stalkers).

Then, I slept through the night. For the first time in ages. I didn't wake up at 3 am cursing Oscar for promising to call and not following through. I didn't wake up at 4 trying to figure out the most efficient/least painful way to end the relationship. And I didn't wake up at 5, achingly sad for what will never be.

And that is the best feeling of all.

Today's Title from: I am Somebody by Jurassic 5

Labels: Oscar, tonsils

It's official. I am having surgery in early November to have my tonsils removed. The paperwork to have the surgery approved by my insurance has been filled out and sent. My appointment for a pre-op physical has been made. And I've already been given instructions on what I can and can't eat post-op.

It's gonna SUCK. But it's also going to be awesome when I don't get insanely sick every month anymore.

I'm thinking of having a "Last Chance to Play Tonsil Hockey with Chloe" party right before my surgery. That would awesome. Except probably no one would come.

Speaking of no one coming- I tried to break up with Oscar last night and he wouldn't even discuss it. I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. He says he doesn't want to have this discussion over the phone. And when we hung up- HE was mad at ME.

Un-fucking-believable.

Today's Title from: Other Side of the World by KT Tunstall

Labels: Oscar, tonsils

When I went to bed on Friday night, I knew I was getting sick. I could feel it in the back of my throat, the place where it always starts.


I'm pissed, but I'm not surprised. I've been out-of-my-mind stressed over the last couple of weeks, then just as that stress was ending, I had a night of almost no sleep at all, a night when I needed a full nights sleep more than anything.


Saturday morning I wake up to the same inflamed tonsils that have been plaguing me all year. This will be my 5th struggle with them since February. I expect it to be annoying and painful to swallow, but I imagine that it will be a little like the last few times where I am still functioning, just at a lower capacity. As the day progresses and I find myself having slept most of it on the couch, I realize that this is no wussy bout of tonsilitis. Later I make Karen reaffirm my suspicions that I have a fever. Then I huddle back under my blankets to sleep some more.


I drift back into consciousness and call Spatch to let her know I won't be able to make brunch the next morning. I fall back asleep. The events of the evening come in waves to me. Karen has stayed home with me, and I thank her by sleeping all night. She makes cookies, does some cleaning, occasionally attempts to talk to me. And I just keep sleeping.


Sunday morning I wake up at 6 am. I deliriously make my way to the kitchen, make myself some TheraFlu, pop some Aleve to make the pain bearable and lay down on the couch to spend the rest of the day sleeping again.


I'm not eating. I'm barely drinking. All I want to do is sleep. Later that night when one of our roommates has a guest over, Karen and I retire to my bedroom and she reads to me while I lay on my bed, praying for death. Even later, as I sweat off my fever, my roommates let me open windows and turn on a fan even though they are freezing.


Monday morning, I feel moderately better, but the pain in my throat is still unbearable. I call in sick. I call my doctor and cry my way into an appointment later that afternoon.


After she looks down my throat, she confirms what I already know she is going to tell me.


Its time to take my tonsils out.


I am half-elation and half-dread.

Today's Title from: I Want to Break Free by Queen

Labels: tonsils

Ahem.

In an amoxicillin/thera-flu/aleve induced coma on Friday, I, uh, may have accidentally rejected some comments. It was not intentional! I was confused about all the buttons!

So, I offer my sincerest apologies to Shaun, A Lover and a Fighter, Coco and L. Luckily, I get all my comments emailed to me, so I still have a copy of all your lovely words and they will bring me much warmth in the months to come, I'm sure.

Oscar. How I needlessly worried about him.

Here's the rundown:

Thursday night, he called me and I informed him that I was ill, and I feel like I made it pretty clear it wasn't any pansy illness, but this was Wanting-To-Die Sick. He offered his condolences and told me he would call me on Friday to check up on me.

Haven't heard a word from him since.

Seriously.

Did I mention that was Thursday?

Nice knowing ya! See ya!

I think the fact that I'm not really that upset about it is a good indicator that we weren't headed for true love anyway.

Moving on.

I'm feeling better. It still hurts everytime I swallow, but I no longer have to prepare myself for the pain of each swallow by gripping tightly to whatever is closest to me. So that's good. I was having some trouble sleeping, due to the extreme phlegm in my throat, as it would close up my airway and I'd wake myself up because I couldn't breathe (FUN!), but then Karen introduced me to the most wonderful invention ever. Theraflu in a tea-like form. DING DONG.

Hands down the best sleep I've ever had 2 nights in a row, which I think is probably a lot of the reason that I am feeling so much better.

Plus, I had a really fantastic weekend.

Saturday, Karen and I went out to Long Beach again for the day. We had hoped to get ourselves some lovely color on the beach, but the sun did not cooperate and we were forced to pack it in shortly after arriving due to extreme cold. Luckily, Maria lives mere blocks from the beach, so we went back to her place, ate some food and drank some beer and hung out with some others friends whose beach plans had been thwarted by the weather.

We also played approximately 2-3 hours of Guitar Hero. The greatest video game ever invented.

Then we all had dinner together. Then Karen and I hit the 11:13 train back to Manhattan, and I have never been more glad in my entire life to snuggle into my bed.
___________________________________________________________________

Sunday morning, I wake to a text from Spatch, sent at 3:40 am the night before requesting gym or brunch? I assess my physical state and text back that maybe we should stick to brunch.

Spatch, Ana and I meet at Alice's Tea Cup (my FAVORITE brunch place) at 12:30 and manage to avoid an hour and a half wait. The three of us are such an interesting mix, I am so glad that circumstances have brought us together, because there's no way we ever would have met otherwise. We talk and talk and talk. About alter egos and the trouble with being known by 2 different names, about how Big Production Sex isn't always what we want and about my frustrations with my less-than-attentive doctor.

After brunch we head back to Spatch's place and I am green with envy at her new location and the adorable dog she gets to live with. We lounge on her bed as we discuss locations for some new lights she purchased at a stoop sale. I'm comfortable and full. I could have happily stayed on Spatch's bed for the entire day, cuddling with the dog and hearing Ana and Spatch's stories about the Burning Man community. I leave them, consoled in the knowledge that I will be seeing them again on Thursday.

Today's Title from: 9 Crimes by Damien Rice

Labels: Ana, Oscar, Spatch, tonsils

Okay, I've been a bit of a slacker lately. I've been pretty busy.


And I've been sick. Tonsilitis for the 4th time in as many months. I went to see my doctor who told me the exact same thing that he told me when I went in for tonsilitis the last time- next time it happens, he'll send me to an ear, nose, throat specialist. I am wondering exactly how many times my doctor will treat me for this before he's actually going to send me to the specialist.

I'm a little frustrated.


And my thoat hurts.


Overall though, it was a pretty decent week. Dinner with Email Boy on Monday, a night with Oscar on Tuesday, and dinner with Spatch on Wednesday. The continuous non-stop activity may be a large part of the reason why I woke up wanting to die on Thursday.


Can't say for sure though.


I haven't talked about Oscar much lately. I don't really know what to say. Things are good. We're learning how to deal with each others idiosyncracies. He calls almost everyday and he's really attentive to me. He wants me to start staying at his place for a larger portion of the week.


I am hesitant.


And I don't really have a good solid reason. I'm unusually ambivalent. I enjoy being with him, but I don't ache for him and I don't crave him.

Am I supposed to?

Today's Title from: Just Feel Better by Carlos Santana and Steven Tyler

Labels: Oscar, tonsils

I've started approximately 5 blog posts today because I can't decide what I want to write about. So maybe, I'll just do a brief synopsis of all the shit in my brain.

1. Friday night. Literally one of the most perfect nights of my life. Email Boy and I met at Shea Stadium around 6:30. We loaded up with hot dogs, burgers, fries, beer and peanuts. And laughed our asses off as the Mets lost big time to Atlanta- we weren't laughing at the Mets, we love the Mets, we were laughing at each other. After the game (or really, after we left the game in the 7th inning because we were losing badly and it was FREEZING cold), we went to a movie. Then around 2 am, he drove me home and I made fun of his techno music the entire ride. Because it is super lame. It's essentially the same song over and over again, plus or minus some drums. Seriously, the lamest music ever. Can I please find a version of Email Boy who is sexually attracted to me and marry him? I think that would be ideal.

2. It's BOILING hot here today. That's right- 85 degrees. Friday night it was 42, today it's 85. And it reminds me that I'm not quite yet ready for summer weather yet. I would like to have a spring first. Since winter just ended last week for us, could I please have at least a few weeks of jacket weather before I have to start worrying about the profuse sweating on my way to the subway? Muchas gracias.

3. Dr's appointment this morning in my continuing Tonsil Saga. I got another round of antibiotics for my second bout in as many weeks. One more bout and he's sending me to a throat doctor. HOT.

4. It's been a full month of absolutely no contact with Scott at all. It's been harder than I would like to admit. I have completely removed all traces of him from my life. Comments and emails on Myspace, all deleted. All text messages deleted. By all rights, he should also be gone from my head, yes? I am frustrated at his continued lingering presence. I am frustrated that I have to talk myself out of calling him and resolving things. I want to genuinely hate him.

Today's Title from: You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette

Labels: Email Boy, Scott, tonsils

So, I'm considering getting my eyebrows waxed. I don't know why I've avoided it before now, it just seemed easier to pluck them I guess. And it's certainly not that I'm afraid of waxing, as there is a much more sensitive part of my body that receives this special treatment on a regular basis (it's the only way to go.....).

Did I mention that I've had 2, that's right 2, bouts of tonsillitis in the last 2 months? It's been... unpleasant to say the least. This most recent occurance sent me to the doctor for some antibiotics that worked beautifully. I was so, so happy for days as the phlegm and the pain in my throat subsided. Now, only 3 days after I finished the antibiotics, I am starting to feel it again in my left tonsil. I am not happy about this. Especially since my doctor is threatening to take them out and did I also mention that I don't have a very high pain tolerance? Don't make me tell you the story of when I had my wisdom teeth out. Although in my defense, I was only 14 and the teeth were completely impacted, which meant I had VERY large holes in the back of my mouth for a good long time (which, by the way, smelled TERRIBLE during the healing process). There was a point where I was finishing off entire bottles of advil in one day. This is a large part of the reason that I am a little anti-medicine now, I feel I got my lifetime's supply during that 2 week period and shouldn't push it.

Oh, and I've got a rash. As I'm getting older, I'm turning more and more into my father, A.K.A Mr. I-Claim-To-Be-Allergic-To-Everything. He doesn't even wear cashmere because his skin is so sensitive (THE HORROR!). I recently switched shampoo/conditioner and my skin decided to reward me by breaking out into a terrible rash all over my neck and chest. It's SO hot. I can't even tell you. Patrick is taking me out to dinner tomorrow night and I am hoping and praying that the lighting will illuminate me just so that he can get the full treatment of the glory that is currently my neck. That would be so rad. Hopefully I don't develop an allergy to cats, as that would totally destroy my plan of becoming The Crazy Cat Lady.

Today's Title From: The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson

Labels: tonsils