Good evening, I know it’s been a while but I have been focused on my work after missing so much due to having my tonsils out, nice I know... One of my favourite things is being alone, on the holidays I was camping with friends in Pt Lonsdale, it was so nice to be self sufficient and without adults, but I guess in some way this wasn’t enough. I wanted to look after myself and do everything myself for once, I don’t know I guess it was just exciting. so on the last day of camping I was calling my father, stepmother and my mother...naturally (for them) no one answered, I was calling to find out if they were at the beach or back in Melbourne so I would know just to bus to Aireys Inlet or train back to the city. I became angry at their lack of response to my numerous calls and texts, so I made a decision to go to the beach house, with a small bag and no more than $5. Subconsciously I knew no one would be there, I knew that they would have called if they had gonee down. I then called dad asking "where are you?", there was a little anger on his part but in the end it worked out that I stayed there for a few days on my ow
n, then I would bus and train back to the city.
It was basically one of the best weeks of my life; I could do anything I wanted.
The next week I had a tonsillectomy, it was an experience. As it was my first time staying in the hospital, I was naturally more excited to sleep there than worried about my operation and the aftermath. I was admitted on Thursday the 8th of April 9 days before my 17th birthday. they asked me many questions in front of my lovely insane mother, such as do you smoke?....whenever I am asked this I take a few seconds to answer, and that answer differs each time, the real answer that I should be giving everyone is a simple yes. But I just couldn’t say it, it was either 'I have before'....'socially'...or 'occasionally'...even though mother does know I just couldn’t give a direct answer...I think it was about the judgement of the hospital staff.
When I woke up, I couldn’t really see...or move in the ways I wanted to. I could speak perfectly...which was quite unexpected seeing as I had just had two infected pieces of tissue cut out of my throat, but it neither hurt nor had any impact on my voice....at that stage.
Over the next couple of days the pain got worse to the point of my refusal to eat anything for at least a week and a half (that time expanded over my birthday).
Which brings me to the topic of my seventeenth birthday, another fail of a day that is meant to be special...relating back to my old post about the celebration of birthdays...ANYWAY I was feeling like shit, I couldn’t speak or eat and I had no energy at all. well my lovely friends came over for a couple of hours, they brought me a cake and some brought gifts, it was lovely, but I had to force the cake down a very sore throat, I just wanted to sit in bed and watch Nip Tuck. My friends were so lovely and making the most of my mood, which I really appreciate, but I still wonder whether the start to my 17th year was an indicator to the rest of it, all I can say I hopefully not.
n, then I would bus and train back to the city.It was basically one of the best weeks of my life; I could do anything I wanted.
The next week I had a tonsillectomy, it was an experience. As it was my first time staying in the hospital, I was naturally more excited to sleep there than worried about my operation and the aftermath. I was admitted on Thursday the 8th of April 9 days before my 17th birthday. they asked me many questions in front of my lovely insane mother, such as do you smoke?....whenever I am asked this I take a few seconds to answer, and that answer differs each time, the real answer that I should be giving everyone is a simple yes. But I just couldn’t say it, it was either 'I have before'....'socially'...or 'occasionally'...even though mother does know I just couldn’t give a direct answer...I think it was about the judgement of the hospital staff.
When I woke up, I couldn’t really see...or move in the ways I wanted to. I could speak perfectly...which was quite unexpected seeing as I had just had two infected pieces of tissue cut out of my throat, but it neither hurt nor had any impact on my voice....at that stage.
Over the next couple of days the pain got worse to the point of my refusal to eat anything for at least a week and a half (that time expanded over my birthday).
Which brings me to the topic of my seventeenth birthday, another fail of a day that is meant to be special...relating back to my old post about the celebration of birthdays...ANYWAY I was feeling like shit, I couldn’t speak or eat and I had no energy at all. well my lovely friends came over for a couple of hours, they brought me a cake and some brought gifts, it was lovely, but I had to force the cake down a very sore throat, I just wanted to sit in bed and watch Nip Tuck. My friends were so lovely and making the most of my mood, which I really appreciate, but I still wonder whether the start to my 17th year was an indicator to the rest of it, all I can say I hopefully not.
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