Waking up under the bright lights of a small, semi-private hospital bed, the first thing that came to my mind was something along the lines of this...
Do I have cotton balls in my mouth? I wondered with confusion. Really, I thought a tonsillectomy was supposed to clear out my mouth, not make it seem like large, white, fluffy, balls had been implanted on either side of my throat. Talking didn't yield much of a difference in my thoughts of cotton balls either.
However, as I tried to walk out into the waiting room where my dear mother was waiting to drive me home, thoughts of cotton balls turned to jello as I focused on my legs. Walking proved to be a difficult, and oddly amusing ordeal.
After some hard work I made it to the waiting room, pretended to understand the nurse as she talked to me about...I don't remember, and finally was helped out to the car. I smiled on the way home, realizing that my body did not feel like my own. It was a short drive, and I kept thinking how nice it would be to get home and take a long nap to work off the anesthesia that was taking my body as a fool. I was surprised that I didn't feel worse.
And then I got home and threw up.