But the Rabbit was Smiling with His Spoon

I have a sore throat . . . and chills. The kind you get when you are cold from the inside out. Which sucks, because you cannot get warm.

I am self-diagnosing strep throat but have been told that you cannot have strep throat without tonsils. "Maybe you have strep neck?" one of my students called out today.

My tonsils were removed when I was seven. Horrible experience. First time I realized that there was an adult conspiracy . . . although the "blanket fairy" was suspicious . . . I mean why would she think that I would trade my blanket with all the soothing smells for a doll? One would think that a blanket fairy would do more research on her customers. I didn't play with dolls.

Anyhow, I was told that in trade for my tonsils, I would get as much ice cream and Popsicles that I wanted. Seemed an okay trade for that. Stupid tonsils that made me sick all the time for yummy, yummy Popsicles. Wanted them in a jar (the tonsils . . . yeah, I've always been this way) but was too wimpy to ask. So I pictured myself in bed, like a princess, with an unlimited supply of grape Popsicles and vanilla ice cream.

And the hospital was scary and weird. And they didn't let me wear underwear in the operating room, which I was thought was terribly strange at the time. And still do. And then I woke up . . . and my throat HURT and my stomach felt awful. And that really sucked. So I demanded ice cream. And was told "no". So I demanded again.

The next nurse reasoned with me . . . or maybe it was my mom. All the blood from the removing the tonsils had drained into my stomach and if I ate anything, I would throw up. I then produced the book they had given me, explaining the whole "get your tonsils out and don't be scared" thing. "See? Here on page seven? ICE CREAM. The rabbit gets his tonsils out and he gets ice cream." (point at rabbit with spoon and smile on his little rabbit face)

"But they meant later . . . "

No go. The rabbit got his tonsils out and he got ice cream. Liars. They told me Popsicles and ice cream and now they were reneging on the deal.

So I got my vanilla ice cream. And I threw up that vanilla ice cream, mixed with my own blood (which, as it turns out, I was going to throw up anyway . . . ice cream or no). And I realized that adults would tell you things just to get you to do things that you didn't want to do. Ludicrous things. Like ripping your tonsils out.

End of story? Part of my right tonsil is still there. So I might even have strep neck, dammit.

I might go get some ice cream.