Let's Give Him a Hand

I am getting my tonsils removed on October 24th. Truth be told, I am scared....A LOT. I mean at one point in my life I considered getting boobs....but going under the knife and waking up to huge bajungaz seems a lot more awesome to waking up missing your throat boobs. Did you know that uvula piercing is actually a thing? WHO THE HELL IS LOOKING IN THAT PART OF YOUR MOUTH??? WHHHHHY? I mean really. To pierce back there, you would almost need to hire a child or a little person to put their hands in there. Stupid.

I'm off point.

I am scared to go under anesthesia. I am scared to wake up and not be able to talk. I am also worried I will have a bleed, and that I will sound like Kathleen Turner or William Shatner. It needs to be done. I've had repeated infection and the tonsil stones were fun for a while. Now, I am beyond done with them, but I want to keep them. Not in me...but in a jar with formaldehyde in it. In a cabinet that is where I will keep "miscellaneous useless parts of me." I have my baby teeth somewhere in storage at my parents house, so I can pick those up now that I have the perfect place to put them. Where does one go about getting formaldehyde without seeming like a serial killer? I mean, seriously. I want to keep them so that when Charlie gets older and has friends over I can bring them out and put them on our nightstand to deter them from going in our bedroom.

When I was in middle school I got invited to this super annoying girl's Halloween party. There were 20 girls all in her parent's big semifinished basement, bobbing for apples, being blindfolded and sticking our hands in a bowl of peeled grapes that feel like eyeballs, and screaming like 12 year old girls do. Did I forget to mention her dad was missing a hand? So, half way through the party her dad comes down the stairs with a jar....WITH HIS HAND IN IT. To this day I am not sure if it was really his hand or not. I don't want to know. Talk around town was that he lost it working in his deli while making sausage. Maybe that's why I don't really like sausage. Or hands. Or basements.

I want to be able to carry on this tradition. I want my tonsils in a jar. If I have kidney stones, or my appendix out I want that too. I would like to tell kids the story of how I lost my tonsils on Halloween. The only down side of this whole thing, is that on REAL Halloween, I will be laid up. I won't be able to make anybody cry by asking them if they are Michael Jackson for Halloween because they are wearing a leather jacket, a bleeding scream mask, and skinny jeans, and may or may not have been black. I won't be able to make a British kid cry because I laughed when he asked if I was American, and ran off with a fun sized snickers.

I'm thinking of making our next kid Jewish. Not for realsies, but just telling people he is Jewish. When we introduce them places we will say all our kids names and then whisper, "he's Jewish." Like, would that not BLOW people's minds?

I used to carry around a wallet with the pictures that came with the wallet still in it...There were two couples on the beach. One was a young couple just married and the other were seniors. Then there was an old black man and a little girl. I used to pull my wallet out and point to all the pictures, and say that he was my dad and watch people react. I'm not racist, that's just funny watching people work through that.

This is what it's like inside my head when I start to freak out over the possibility of dying from a tonsillectomy. Dramatic? Maybe. But, this is what happens in my head.