On Curds, Turds and Finding Both at the Back of My Throat

 

Warning: Apparently this post is not for the feint of heart or stomach. However, I think he who has asked for the warning is just a wuss. Proceed with caution.

I hate my tonsils.

For one thing, they are huge. And I am not just saying this to illicit naughty comments from the likes of Spider and Sangroncito. I really do have enormous tonsils. Every doctor I have ever seen has commented at least once on the abnormal size of the fleshy mounds at the back of my mouth.

Another problem with these bastards is that anytime I am even remotely sick with a cold, they swell up to twice their size. Since they are gigantic to begin with, this usually means my throat literally becomes swollen closed. It’s not pretty and it’s not fun.

Possibly the grossest thing that my tonsils are capable of doing is creating these little curds that scratch the back of my tongue and drive me insane until they become dislodged. Then I end up spitting them out and examining them out of some morbid curiosity, which is a really bad idea. You see, these nasty tonsil curds smell a lot like little tonsil turds. It’s gross.

Luckily, I’m told this is a rather normal occurrence. It’s not a sign that I’m dying or anything. It happens to everyone and is just more likely to happen to me because I have more tonsils per square inch on which to collect dead skin cells and the like. Lucky me.

Unluckily for me, however, every doctor in the world has some strange opposition to the idea of removing my tonsils. Some think I may need them. Some tell me the pain of having them removed could send me to an early grave. Well, I say the smell of those curds and the pain of dealing with them each time I get the sniffles will spur me to kill the next doctor who refuses to lob the suckers off.

Yes, I do indeed hate my tonsils.