During the winter that I was in kindergarten, I was out of school with throat infections more often than I was in school. So after many notes to school excusing my absence, my family doctor convinced my parents that my tonsils had to come out.Because it happened when I was quite young, I remember only a few scenes from that experience... being wheeled off to surgery through the children's ward... seeing kiddie-cartoon sheets lining a passing gurney... waking up after the surgery in Post-Op, alarmed at being unable to speak then quickly passing out again... and enjoying bowl after bowl of Breyers strawberry ice cream after I was sent home to recuperate.
While still in the hospital, my Dad had brought me a little brown plastic dog, a dachshund the same amber-colored coat as my Aunt's dog, Gunther. Its head bobbled and its tail wagged, and something about its smooth movements was very calming for a six-year-old. As I recovered, I kept it on my bedside table, nudging it every once in a while to set its head and tail bobbing.
Although my family never had a dog - we were always cat people - this little doggie has traveled with me through multiple houses, and has taken up residence in prime locations on many a desk.
Just looking at it brings back memories of childhood, and reminds me that no matter what I'm going through, everything will be OK.
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I had my tonsils removed when I was a freshman in college -- my memories, though, are remarkably similar to yours, as I was pre-opped and post-opped in a children's ward. I remember being very out of sorts (anesthesia is unkind to me) and little kids staring at me, like, "We're fine ... what's wrong with her?" Worst spring break, ever.
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