Bet Your Bottom Dollar

My tonsils come out
Tomorrow
Bet your bottom dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be narcotic analgesics!

Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Makes me antsy
And want to borrow
a massage chair!

When I'm stuck a day
That's full of 

swollen lymph nodes
I just gargle with salt water
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh!

My tonsils come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day
A way! 

Bright and early tomorrow morning I'll be rid of my tormenters forever.  I'm about as ready as I'll ever be.

I have a freezer stocked full of cold treats, complete with ice cream maker:

Is your freezer as haphazard as mine?  I hope so.  I also hope your cupboards and closets look like mine.  That would make me feel better.

I have my meds:

The antibiotic is to prevent infection.  The codeine has been appropriately labeled an 'elixir.'  I hope it works its magical powers quickly and effectively.  

I have a vaporizer to keep the air nice and moist for my healing wounds.

I apologize if that sentence grossed you out as much as it did me.

This vaporizer has a light on it that looks like an oncoming train.  I'm not sure if it's supposed to double as a portable headlight (also known as a flashlight) or what.  I've managed to block its light with plenty of medical tape.  

I have books:

Plenty of 'em.

And I have this:

This is, quite possibly, my most riveting photographic work yet.  Can you tell what it is?

It's a bubble.  A Trident tropical twist bubble, that's what.  Apparently chewing gum helps to alleviate referred ear pain.  So I've stocked up.  Hopefully I don't chew it all by tomorrow.

And best best best of all, I have my mama:

She's flown down from Washington to care for me.  I don't know how I would have gotten through the last two years without her.  She's flown down to move me twice—the first time I had finals, job interviews and epic applications to complete, a third grade classroom to move out of, and an apartment to move out of, all in the same week; and the second time I was too sick to move myself.  And now she's here to nurse me back to health. She is a servant of all, and boy do I love her.

And that, my friends, concludes my impromptu blog series on tonsils.  You can bet your bottom dollar that, after tomorrow, I'll never write about them again.

At least I don't think so.

Okay, I'll probably give you an update, but after that I'm done.  And I mean it.  

Anybody want a peanut?

Sorry.  No penultimate post to a tonsil blog series is complete without a Princess Bride reference.

Signing off for real now,

SJ

© by scj