A Truly Awful Story

I was just discharged from the hospital a few hours ago.  I'd been there for a couple days due to some badly infected tonsils (yes, yes, the same damn thing happened three weeks ago).

It's also my 20th birthday. That feels weird to type.
I'm no longer a teenager.

Here's what happened:

On Wednesday, I woke up with a raging sore throat. Horribly inflamed and awful feeling. I spent the entire day at home, hoping that through rest and fluids it would improve.

Thursday, there was no improvement, so I went to my university's student health service, who  then sent me on the emergency room. Four hours later, I was discharged with a few prescriptions, a pat on the head, and "if you don't feel better in five days, go to this clinic."

Later that night, I was back. My tonsil had swollen so large that it nearly blocked off my throat. Swallowing was impossible, breathing could only be done through the nose. Sadly, I only noticed the swallowing part when I was in the midst of watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and I nearly drowned in my own saliva. The movie wasn't bad though.

After returning to the hospital, I was rushed into Trauma where they drained my peritonsillar abscess of pus once again, this time removing 18 ccs of pus (for those of you keep score at home, that's 25 ccs of pus that has been removed from my right tonsil).  The two doctors treating me and I had made friendly bets on how much pus we thought there might be beforehand.  The three bets had been 2 ccs, 5 ccs, and 7 ccs.  The ear, nose, and throat doctor said it was the most pus he had ever removed from a tonsil before and that it might be a hospital record.  He also sincerely hoped that the hospital didn't keep a record book for things such as this.

As it was, I spent all of Friday in the hospital and a good bit of Saturday as well. Finally, they released me with scripts for antibiotics and powerful painkillers.  The antibiotics alone were over $70. The painkillers... they didn't have them at the pharmacy, since what was prescribed was a solution (I still can't swallow well), so they put in an order for it.

At this point, the young male pharmacist looked at me rather concerned.  He is an intern still in pharmacy school, with a small piercing in his left ear (he had my gaydar twitching a little... plus, he was cute, so wishful thinking, too).  "Um... you prescription here is for some pretty powerful painkillers, are you sure you'll be okay without them for a few days?"  I was prescribed Oxycodone-Acetaminophen (Roxicet), which is used for moderate to severe pain.  I said of course I'd be fine, it was the antibiotics that were time critical. He looked at me strangely and asked how long ago I'd been released from the hospital, and when my last dose of painkillers was.  It had been some time before, and I confided in him that I thought sometimes doctors over prescribe necessary pain killers. Still, his concern was touching.

Afterward, as I was picking up popsicles in the drugstore, Todd, a good friend from home called and wished me a happy birthday, remarking at the strange fact that I always seem to be either coming or going to the hospital around my birthday.