I never thought a sore throat could be so damn painful. I mean, prior to this my pain threshold had been horse-related. Like some sort of new-man idiot I decided to try partaking in my wife's hobby: horse riding. Cut a long story short, my second lesson ended in an 'exhilarating' gallop (after everyone else, including our instructor, had fallen off) and a fractured ankle. Tore all the ligaments too, so it was a fun way to bring my equestrian career to a hobbling halt.
Only trouble was, when I went up to A&E they thought it was just sprained, so I got a tube bandage, a walking stick, and told to bugger off out of it. Three days later I'm back again and they decide that, it's fractured after all. The tube bandage will have to go, it's cast time. Fair enough, but the fracture had already started to heal -- in the wrong direction -- so they had to 'encourage' it straight again. Which basically means breaking it. Without an anaesthetic. THAT was my number 10 on the old painometer.
Now, normally when you get a general anaesthetic they stick a dirty big tube down your throat to make sure you keep breathing. This can lead to a bit of a sore throat, but it goes away (allegedly) after a day or so. Not for me. Nope, not only do I get to have the nose that keeps on bleeding, I also get an ulcerated Uvula. Yup, the dangly bit at the back of my throat looks like a scrotum that's been shaved with a rotary lawnmower. And the bloody thing HURTS! All the time, like barbed wire being drawn across the roof of my mouth. Made all the worse because I can't breathe through my blood-clotted nose, so it's drying out the whole time and getting aggravated. Makes the re-breaking of a limb seem tame in comparison.
So today She Who Must Dress Up As A Nurse More Often took me back to the hospital to see mine surgeon. Who hoovered out the inside of my right nostril for some bizarre reason. Still, I suppose we all need a hobby. Then gave me a prescription for a whole host of new drugs, most of which taste bloody awful. I rattle when I walk now. And the new painkillers make everything go WHOOSH! when I look at them.
God knows what I'm going to be like for tomorrow's radio-and-reader-fest. I can't actually speak today without sounding like Marlon Brando's unintelligible cousin Elmer. Worse yet, there are going to be 'members of the local press' there to take photographs, and I'll still be Mr. Swollen Potato-Head.
Ah yes, another great opportunity to debase the old ego. I'm getting spoiled for choice these days...
* Where X is the distance between here and exactly how far I can kick the arse of whoever recommended sinus surgery to me in the first place.