Sunday, July 1, 2012

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

2 comments:

  1. Hey cupcake,
    I called your dad and he said, "So far, so good." Or something like that.
    Praise the Lord and pass the frozen yogurt!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you for checking in, Gaileen! It went smoothly, and now I'm just resting. Praise Jesus fo shuah

    ReplyDelete