To Doc with Love

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you are aware of my tonsil issue, which the media has dubbed Tonsilgate.

If you are not a regular reader, you can catch up by clicking here and here. The short and simple version is this: my tonsils were going to be removed by a tap-dancing koala bear on a Venezuelan children’s show.

Actually that would have been preferable.

The real thing is worse. My pre-operative surgery consultation was this: “Drink vanilla milkshakes. Here’s some drugs. Bye!” When I attempted to get an appointment with the surgeon, I was treated as if I asked to father Mitt Romney’s baby. “How dare you, sir! The utter gall to ask about your surgery with the surgeon! Pish-posh, you, crawl back to your hovel and leave our majesty be!”

I was finally able to turn my post-operative appointment into a pre-operative consultation with the doctor, but then I thought Do I really want to see a doctor who saw no trouble leaving my pre-surgery consultation in the hands of the first person he saw walking down the street?

The answer was: Fuck no.

So I’m now with a new ENT. My first appointment was with the nurse practitioner. She actually described the surgery to me.

In case you did not know, they do not use this:

The nurse knew how long it would take. She told me what to do to help recover. She didn’t try to sugarcoat anything. “It’s going to be miserable. It’s going to feel like the worst sore throat you ever had.”

She did not mention vanilla milkshakes.

She actually looked inside my mouth. The other nurse didn’t bother with that part although she did listen to my heart and lungs. In all fairness to her, she likely thought my tonsils were located in my chest cavity.

It turned out, I was sick again. She said I would not be able to have the surgery if I was sick because it increases the chances of bleeding during and post operation. She gave me super amoxicillin. She said my next appointment would be with the doctor because he did not like to feel like a ghost surgeon and actually wanted to meet the people he operated on.

I refrained from enveloping her in a giant bear hug and left.

But I feel like I owe something to that former ENT’s office to say “Hey, thanks for all the weirdness and incompetence because now I’m at a real doctor’s office and it’s really awesome.”

Maybe something like this:

This will be the note attached: “This is the only guy you should operate on.”

Or how about a giant vase of notes, one for each day of the year?

The notes will all say the same thing.

Or maybe since the nurse has such a hard time talking to such a difficult patient, this will make things easier next time:

Or maybe just this will suffice:

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the seventeenth post. She appreciates any and all suggestions unless you recommend she recrap Fifty Shades of Grey. She did that already. And she is stupider for it. 


  1. Speaker7,
    I must tell you… All doctors are now chosen and selected through an elimination process in reality shows. That’s right: Skills and knowledge are no longer require: it is who plays the game best, and wins the immunity challenges, and has the strongest alliance. Good luck with your new team.
    Le Clown

  2. I think all of the above gifts would be appropriate. But if it were me, I’d also send him a box of Cracker Jack, so he can have the original packaging from where his medical diploma obviously came from. Thank goodness you’re with a real doctor now–I’m very glad. Otherwise I was going to come up there and knock some heads together. Feel better!

  3. I’m so glad you switched. You deserve the care you are asking for – it’s not outrageous to want to talk to the person who will do the surgery. It’s expected.

    1. I know. Now that I’ve been to a real doctor’s office, I’m even more amazed by the treatment I received at the cracker barrel masquerading as a doctor’s office.

      1. The Fat Magnet™ is so amazing. I can see how this would be the perfect gift for a guy to give the special lady in his life. Nothing says love like “you’re a fatty.”

  4. I have just ordered my fat magnet. Since I ordered it within the allotted promotion time, I will also be receiving, free of charge, a mini-fat magnet in order to reach inaccessible places, as well as a curved handle fat magnet for those pesky fat pockets behind my ears.

  5. That’s great you found someone who’s competent AND nice. I feel bad for anyone who actually lets the loser office perform any kind of procedure on them. Yikes.
    You should send them one of those gifts, they are genius. The gifts, not the staff.

  6. Perhaps there should be a dry run with your first doc in the game of Operation. If he could locate AND remove the tonsils, he could be put on the waitlist that you have stored in your jar of notes.
    Glad you went with what was behind door number 2.

    1. Hey, also – if you’re wanting that WWSSD? wristband, be sure to email me your addres ( If you’re not… that’s okay… I won’t take it… you know… personal or anything…

    2. Please share your knowledge with the Insane Clown Posse because they do not know how fuckin’ magnets work. And I have never wanted anything more than that WWSSD wristband.

  7. I’m so glad to hear that you found a better team. The idea that someone would want to operate on you without meeting you or even effectively providing answers is unbelievable.

      1. YAY!! You might want to reconsider that decision about the tree, though. I’d mail them to the first surgeon, or better yet, the pretend nurse practitioner. It angers me STILL that they billed your insurance company (or you) for a full consultation. Bastards.

  8. That operation game FREAKS ME OUT. I’m pretty jumpy anyway, so then I’m shakily removing organs and BEEEP holy shit on a cracker! I could just imagine if real doctors used those. They’d all drop from heart attacks while operating. That had little to do with Tonsilgate. I hope there is a Tonsilcare healthcare package that will help cover the charges for Tonsilgate. You wouldn’t want to be impeached from the operating room. Wait. What am I saying?

  9. I don’t need to buy a Fat Magnet – I am a fat magnet.
    Glad you have a new surgeon now and one who likes to see his patients awake as well as comatose on a table wearing a puce green gown.

    1. It has been a completely pleasant experiencd. I wanted to send the doctor’s office cookies or knit them comfy socks because it was just so much better than the last time.

  10. Ask the surgeon to save your tonsils in a jar. Then drop the jar off one morning in front of your old surgeon’s office. That would be extremely satisfying, because they’d have to sit around and wonder about whether or not they had a crazed stalker on their hands. Of course, the downside is if you do that, you can’t file a formal complaint because you’ll have to lay low.

  11. It makes such a difference to feel that you are in capable hands, especially when those hands will soon be coming at you with a scalpel! The surgeon who removed half my thyroid gave off such an air of competence, caring, and intelligence that my fear level dropped dramatically. I went in for surgery sure that this guy was going to do his best. So glad you ended up switching!

  12. I am so very glad for you!!!!! Seriously, this is the perfect turn of events.

    And if you need to send the old guys something, I have a French version of OPERATION. Perhaps it will help explain to them that there was, ummmmm a failure to communcate.

    They were assholes. Give the new folks a big hug from me too. Speaker7 needs her throat back.

  13. When I was 13 I went to the doctor’s for tonsillitis and whilst peering at my tonsils, the doctor mused ‘You have a very large ribcage for a girl of your age.’ After momentarily fearing that my ribcage was in my throat and I had heretofore been very misled about the nature of my anatomy, I decided that a simple ‘Fuuuuuck youuuuuuuuuuu’ would suffice. Cheeky bint.

  14. I’m so glad you found this team.
    When I read this I was sitting in a walk in clinic waiting for my turn to see a Doctor and wondering what the hell was I doing here. I mean I knew why I was seeking medical attention, I just have to wonder why I have continued to keep my Doctor who is 200 kilometres away and not find a doctor where I live. The answer is simple, if I find one that is as good as the one in Niagara Falls then I will switch, until then I have to take what I can get when emergencies arise.

    1. I know exactly what you mean. I also feel the same way about hairdressers. It took forever to find a hairdresser I like and now I pretty much follow wherever she goes.

      1. I also follow my hairdresser. Unfortunately, he is in Williamsville, New York. I know. I am a freak. I drive 3 hours to get my hair done. To another country. I am a freak.

  15. I am also very glad to hear that you found someone infinitely more qualified to remove your tonsils than that tap dancing koala bear on a Venezuelan children’s show. It also pleases me to know that the nurse was frank, she takes you seriously (guess she’s not a reader of this site — yet) and didn’t resent you like that insulting dolt you encountered last time. Most of all, as entertaining as these Tonsilgate posts have been, I am looking forward to when this episode of unpleasantness is behind you and your tonsils are in a jar, hanging from your Xmas tree or floating wherever toxic waste floats. New Jersey?

  16. Hilarious post! I love the random Fat Magnet drop. As I was reading, I recalled a kid in grade school having his tonsils cut out. He used to walk around with a vanilla bean in a glass tube. I always thought he was weird. Apparently there’s some sort of science behind the beans…maybe the science is a bunch of beans. I guess it’s a safe bet that it’s one or the other…

  17. YAY! I’m so glad you got a better doctor! I don’t think you should have restrained yourself, I think a bear hug was in order. If you just explained that she was so much better than she’d be totes cool with it! =D

    Also, sorry you’re sick again. Bleghers.

  18. I just don’t know how to react to this. Competent, caring professionals seem like an improvement, but I’m very concerned about the lack of milkshakes.

    1. That concerned me too, but I guess it has something to do with mucous build up and throat clearing and that is ouchy with the open sores. I wish it could be different.

  19. Hahah oh my god that’s hilarious. I love the fuck you notes. You should do all three at different times of the year so they don’t expect it.

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