Throat Ninja

Blausen_0860_Tonsils&Throat_AnatomyMy youngest son woke up one morning and his voice had changed. Wait, it’s not what you think. He’s 18 and his voice had changed a while ago. This was a new change. He sounded strangled, like he’d accidentally swallowed one of his socks and it was stuck in his throat. Think Marlon Brando in the “Godfather.” Because I am Jean Ciampi, Web MD, I took a quick peek and found his tonsils were strangely fuzzy and the size of grapefruits. Consulting with my medical colleague, Dr. Google, I diagnosed tonsillitis. A trip to Urgent Care confirmed it.

A big, honkin’ shot of something painful in the rear end, along with a prescription for antibiotics, and I thought he’d be good to go in no time. Except he wasn’t. Within just another day or so, one of his tonsils had gone rogue, completely off the grid. It was attempting a hostile takeover of the entire body with the intent of a forced life stoppage. It had taken the other tonsil hostage and was refusing to speak with negotiators. We had no other choice but to up the stakes and head to the Emergency Room.

Enter the Throat Ninja. He had scalpels hidden in pockets of his coat and, I’m almost sure, had x-ray vision. He also carried what looked like a computer bag except it was actually a cleverly disguised but fully functioning operating theater. He explained that the tonsils had abscessed and would need to be lanced. In the Tonsils vs Throat Ninja smack down, I had put all my chips on the Ninja.

You don’t actually realize the seriousness of having your child’s throat slit open until the doctor mentions that the abscess is the width of the hair on a gnat’s keester away from his carotid artery. Then they ask him to sign an authorization for emergency life-saving measures should they accidentally nick it. What the what?! Why can’t my kid just get stitches like other kids?

I’ll be adding assistant surgical nurse to my resume as I got to hold the little suction tube thing while Throat Ninja filleted the tonsils with a Ginsu knife. In the end, the kid got sent home with copious amounts of antibiotics, painkillers, steroids, and ice cream. I got red wine. I think we’ll both live. 

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