I would not have had my tonsils removed. I would have told the doctor it was never going to happen no matter how necessary they thought it was. I would have just suffered through the next round of tonsillitis and would have tolerated the amount of times I’ve gotten sick lately.
This recovery has been incredibly hard. It hurts to talk, swallow, yawn, drink, laugh, and the pain medicine burns the open wounds in my throat as it goes down. It even hurts to cry. I am constantly in pain, chronically hungry and the pain medication has me on the verge of Barfville.
On top of that, school starts back on January 7th and I’m so worried ill still be hurting. Talking makes me sore now even in small amounts so I can’t imagine a full day of teaching Pre-K students.
I cling to the moments after my pain medication has kicked in (before the nausea starts) and think to myself that it can’t be like this forever. It will get better.
I also remind myself of others who have endured much more than my simple little procedure. There are cancer patients who have suffered from nausea and recoveries far more drawn out than mine. There are soldiers who have suffered the removal of limbs rather than my measly disgusting tonsils. I am amazed at their strength and think of what a wuss I am to be complaining about how bad my throat hurts.
But, as the saying goes, this too shall pass. And when it does, I’ll likely 10-15 pounds lighter since I can’t partake if anything that isn’t in liquid form.
Hey, I’m trying to find a bright side in all of this.
It’s everywhere you look this evening. News of the Connecticut elementary school shooting is all over the television, Internet and social media.
Another senseless shooting, killing innocent people.
Every time something like this happens, I react as a mother. I think of my own children and how grateful I am that they are healthy and safe.
I can never wrap my head around wicked things that happen like that. But this time it really got to me.
Because now I am a teacher and I have a new perspective that I didn’t have 4 months ago.
I teach small children. Sweet, loving, little children who have never imagined something so horrific was even possible.
I think of each one of my students and their little faces as they walk in my classroom each day and how much I am blessed by who they are.
I think about all those poor babies and what they must have gone through and it infuriates me that someone would turn school into a place where children don’t feel safe.
Tonight, I will go to bed with a grateful heart as I snuggle with AH, knowing she is safe. And I will thank God for the opportunity to greet my students again on Monday. I know some will not be as fortunate.