A Painfully Funny Experience

May 11, 2011 was the date I had my tonsils out. Believe me, you wouldn't want to have your tonsils out too. The days that followed seemed like a very slow-paced chapter of pain. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours and hours like days. I never expected the pain to be that much though it was relatively obvious what I was getting myself into.

Days before the "big day," I placed myself into preparation of what I was headed to. A bit of research, viewing of actual surgery via YouTube and even heading to forums to see how people who have submitted themselves for "holy" tonsillectomy had to say were few things that kept me busy. The funny thing was me getting more frustrated and terrified to undergo the said operation right after seeing how tonsillectomy is actually done. Repeatedly convincing myself that tonsillectomy was something common and "minor" was apparently of no aid as well. I knew it was a bad move for my paranoia but eventually I realized that those acts were very helpful and worth-it.

It was late last year when my doctors strongly advised me to have my tonsils removed yet surprisingly, it took me a quarter to convince myself that it was for my own good. One can't blame me for being such a scaredy-cat; my dad was afraid of needles too! By this time, assuming that I've inherited some sort of phobia of needles, getting hospitalized and the like is very safe. Over that long span of time, internal debates have been going on though I knew beforehand what the bottom-line would be. And at long last, I have finally decided to leave my fears away and go for the win-win situation.
When the day finally came, I was trying to suppress my fear amid the light atmosphere in Chong Hua Hospital's operating room. Everyone seemed happy for a reason I never knew. Thoughts were swallowing my consciousness that time and the feeling of getting executed dawned on me big time. Around 9:00 in the morning, they brought me to operating room 4 (if I'm not mistaken). Yes, I would have to admit that it was my first time to see the inside of an operating room; pretty impressive and very similar to those that you see in the movies. However, I had a heterogeneous mix of feelings that made me so uneasy inside. My blood pressure sky-rocketed and I was staring at that monitoring device the same way one would watch the movie Titanic. Looking back at myself make me laugh at times. I felt like someone whose hat was that of a dunce's. All of a sudden, something was injected through the IV and the person who did it smiled and said, "this is for you to relax." The first dose seemed to have escaped my system as my stats were not giving them the results they have expected. So they had to give me another shot and *poof* I couldn't remember anything that happened next. The following scenes would be subject for censorship, trust me.

I woke up in the recovery room, painless but felt weird. An hour passed and I was sent to my own room ton "enjoy" my stay there. It turned out that the real recovery room was my own room.

Post-operation day one was not that bad. In fact, I wasn't in as much pain as I was in the successive days. I was getting more pain as days passed by. It reached the point when I wanted to give up but knew that there wasn't really such option since my tonsils already departed my body. Tears were the best comfort I got. Even my all-time favorite, Ice cream, didn't help me from being in a "not-so-happy-camper" mood. Pain was getting on my nerves too much that even my pain relievers were the inflicter of pain through my veins. It even came to a point where swallowing my own saliva was the least thing I would have wanted to do.

Days 3-7 were the most painful days during post-operation period. I am on my 10th day as of writing and pain has significantly faded though I still experience periods of sudden pain that would make me want to stay in bed and play dead.

Tonsillectomy was never a delight at all but it was the best option for me never to experience tonsillitis again. After all that I've been through, I could say I have won over my fears.

At this point, I place all modesty aside in saying I am tonsil-free and I made it!

Of Life, Lush and Love

Oftentimes people stop, think and eventually ask themselves where they are headed to. Ironically, I wasn't part of that comprehensive list. At some point I told myself, "am I really going somewhere?" It was the most mature question I have asked myself by far. 22 years and running and yet I don't see a clear path as to what I really want to be and where I want to be. My brother told me it's fine, he went through the same dilemma before. But he didn't stop there. Then I realized that I had to pick myself up from the desert-setting and put myself to a road eventually leading somewhere. Good point! The difficult question was "how?" Do I really have a plan for myself or do I rely on what may come my way? To tell you honestly I do not hold the answer to that question yet but I know I have to have a say and a firm decision.

Looking at my past tells me that I have been gearing toward the brighter side of life. But does it really have to stop there? What if I have reached that point where people would see the big difference in me, would I then be free to say I've won my race? At work, where I feel under-appreciated, I continue to do what I know is right despite the fact that nobody acknowledges or even sees it. It becomes a question on whether I work to please them or myself. With the way it goes, I could say that I would eventually end up pleasing myself for the untainted leadership that I have contained in me since day one. My only consolation is the thought that I know I'm way better than them and my résumé could spare me from the explanations that you might demand from me. Apart from that, I tell myself that I wouldn't be able to bring their "acknowledgements" with me in the event that I decide for a change in career path. But despite those said, I'm still grateful for all the learning I had and I can't deny the fact that I'm enjoying my job as of yet.

Work is a mixed bag for me. Sadly, the same is true with the way my hypothalamus is going. Emotions wasted, tears shed and efforts all vanished - that was what I thought love would be. I was wrong. While they may be apparently true, I knew they were only a part of the entire learning process and not necessarily the real gist of love itself. Life is a risk; so is love. Every move you make could be your last. Sometimes no matter how you give it your best, if you're not bound to last you perhaps never will. Moreover, it's our choices that count the most. Staying away from potential trouble is the safest at that. Like any situation, it's best to see the pros and cons of any action before it gets executed. It is not always, though, that we are given the luxury of time to think before we act. In such, it becomes a toss between what your mind and your heart deems right. All these thoughts are learning from the past that I found to be very vital in any kind of relationship. At this point of constant learning, I try to look back and see what went wrong and how I could possibly do away with them at present. Like what they say, it's better safe than sorry.

It's tough to give yourself a direction when you don't even know where to start finding yourself. It's just like striving to reach a goal without knowing what that goal exactly is. Sadly, I was pertaining to myself. I'm lost right now; not even a GPS device can find me. All I know is I don't have all the time to stay stagnant and wait for the thermal wind to come before I decide to do something.

I am not getting any younger and I know I have to make a move. Starting may be a big challenge but never impossible.