Traumatizing Surgery

I have spent a fair share of times in the hospital, for a night, two nights and even up to a week. Out of all the times I have been to the hospital, the time after I had to have my tonsils removed is the most traumatizing. According to my mom, when I was a toddler I would get sick from my tonsils a lot. I was six years old when I had my first surgery, the removal of my tonsils, to save me the trouble of being sick all the time. I don’t remember all the details like I do with the surgery I had 4 months ago, but I do remember feeling nauseous and helpless.

The surgery itself was not bad, within 2 hours I was discharged, ready to go home and eat all the ice cream I wanted, or so I thought. The first three days of my recovery were going good, everything changed the morning of the fourth day. At about four in the morning I awoke with a nauseous feeling. Heading straight to the bathroom, I began puking blood, it was a hemorrhage. My oldest brother, who had been awake, called my mom at work. Panic ran through the house later that morning. Mom was on her way from work so I was seated on the floor with a glass of water, mostly ice; ready to go to the emergency room.

It was still early when we got to the hospital, the doctors told my mom I had a blood clot, I needed another surgery. It went well, but I felt so weak I barely talked. To this day I remember just the horrible parts, and from all the poking from the needles and continuous blood transfusion, I have grown to fear needles.