So, it's been a while...
Mostly I had too many ideas of what to write, and not enough decision-making thoughts to actually do it.
And then, I got sick.
On Thursday night I thought I maybe had a sore throat. So I took a lozenge and didn't think anything of it.
Then I woke up on Friday, and definitely had a sore throat, so I brought a whole pack of lozenges to work with me, but left my Nurofen at home (wise move, I know), and by about lunch time I was wincing every time I had to swallow. Even just to swallow WATER. So eating was not really an option.
I got home and told J I thought I had tonsillitis and should probably see a doctor. I asked him to look down my throat and see if my tonsils were swollen/red/unusual in any way.
He had a look and shrugged and said they were a bit red.
On Saturday morning I woke up and could barely even TURN MY HEAD because it hurt and I'm a sook, so J rang the doctor right on 9 o'clock while I was getting my eyebrows waxed and made me an appointment. The doctor said I might need to go to hospital and get a drip, 'just to get on top of it'.
But... I was so not okay with that. I do not like doctors. At all. Or needles. Or even taking medicine unless I KNOW I'm sick. So instead I was stuck with antibiotics and Panadeine Forte and anaesthetic throat gargle and Nurofen AND these numbing antibacterial lozenges.
So on Saturday, I think on a weight-for-weight basis the thing I ate the most of was tablets.
And they gave me HUGE tablets. When swallowing excess saliva hurts, a tablet that is 2cm long is not appealing.
Anyway, I was instructed to keep my liquids up, rest, and take pain meds every 2 hours, alternating between Panadeine Forte and Nurofen.
Turns out my body can't handle that much Codeine, and I started vomiting.
Vomiting up past ridiculously swollen and pus-y and painful tonsils. Oh yeah, it was fun to be me on Saturday.
Anyway, I slowly got better from then on. I've slept a lot and drunk a lot of water and not done a lot else.
Although yesterday I made lasagne for the first time ever, and I didn't even use a recipe, and it was freaking delicious. It was absolutely the best first-meal-after-tonsillitis ever.
Also, I read 'Live to Tell' by Lisa Gardner and it was awesome, if you like reading kind of messed up stuff, like ... there's an 8 year old boy who constantly threatens/tries to kill his mother.
But it was really good! Between naps, I barely put it down!
So anyway, hopefully I stay on-the-mend and am back to my usual self soon.
OH YEAH! I forgot the point of the title.
On Saturday when I got home I had a look down my own throat, thanks to a mirror and a torch, and I don't know what J was on about, but they were not 'a bit red'.
So I got him to look again, and he said it kind of looked like I was growing teeth halfway down my throat.
I asked what he was looking at before then, and he thought your tonsils were 'the dangly bit'.
Hence, 'J, that's your *uvula*'
I apologise for my crappy story telling abilities.