Shortly after oh-so-briefly acknowledging a recent visit to the ER in yesterday's "Friday Faves" post, a slew of concerned text messages appeared on my iPhone 5 requesting the scoop.
This was my response.
I slid into bed around 11:30 on Thursday night, set my head on the pillow and immediately started choking. I then slid out of bed, walked down the hall to the bathroom and proceeded to discharge a mouthful of blood into the sink. For the next ten minutes I watched thick red liquid stream from my mouth into the porcelain bowl and wondered to myself how a person should handle a situation like this. After much deliberation I reached to my left, wrapped a wad of toilet paper around my hand, pressed the aforementioned hand to my mouth and sat down on the floor.
After a few minutes of sitting and pressing, Bevan, wondering where I'd gone, entered the bathroom, glanced at the contents of the sink and calmly said, "I'll get the keys." An hour and a half later we were walking out of the emergency room at Davies Medical Center with the assurance that I would, more likely than not, make it through the night.
At my follow-up appointment the next morning the surgeon who removed my tonsils informed me that it's not entirely abnormal to bleed a bit the week after a tonsillectomy because that's when the scabs begin to fall away from the surgical site.
"After all," he said matter-of-factly, "there are sizable holes in your throat."
He then did something to my mouth involving sulfur and potato starch, told me to eat only cold foods for the next two days and sent me on my way.