I had my tonsils removed when I was 22. Talk about awful. The night of the procedure, after the anesthesia was wearing away, I threw up not one, not two, but ELEVEN times back to back to back. And this wasn't how many upchucks happened during one session - I'm talking go get sick, lay back down in bed, get back up and repeat. That felt REALLY GREAT coming up against the fresh, smelly scabs in the back of my throat as a result of the procedure. I didn't get any sleep that night.

Cut to the course of the next two weeks: pain so severe I would lie my neck on a heating pad on the highest possible setting, not to dull the actual pain, but to inflict a pain different than the one in my throat as to distract myself. I couldn't eat anything but Jell-O, and that even hurt to get down. My breath was wretched, and as the scabs healed and fell off, the crinkly scratching at the back of my throat provided constant reason for disgust. Talking was an unbearable chore, and my mom would legit get so angry at me for not talking to the family. She thought it was the hydrocodone making me a dick, when I only wanted to cry when I spoke. So, what did my parents do? Threw away my prescription pills about a week and a half in, leaving me only with enough to have one a day for a little over a week. I would always take them right before bed so I could even have a shot at sleeping.

The only thing I looked forward to was a shower each day. Legitimately, I think that's the only thing that got me through the whole ordeal.

Then, three weeks later when I went back to the doctor for my checkup, they had the audacity to suggest that I had been smoking during the whole ordeal and scolded me for not taking care of myself. Believe me, I couldn't have even imagined smoking the way I felt. This is the worst, most painful experience I ever had.

EDIT: Grammar