I don’t get sore throats much anymore. Well, to begin with, I have a constitution that has my respiratory system running into an overdrive far more often than the other systems in my body. But when I do develop a sore throat of sorts, it is unfortunately usually something far worse – Tonsilitis.
The first time I had Tonsilitis was at a grand old age of twenty-seven. Went to bed well, and woke up the next morning bad. Not knowing the severity of it (still thinking it was good old sore throat), I reported for work. And that morning, I also underwent my currency check as a controller. While nursing a very bad ‘sore throat’ and burning up at a temperature a little north of 39 degree Celsius. T’was a miracle I cleared the check.
After the shift five hours later, H and I made a dash for the clinic located at the airport, as fast as I could manage. I was fortunate we were on the same shift at the same location that day. The diagnosis was swift and exact – Tonsilitis. I knew little of this condition I heard of, but never suffered from. But oh, since that day, we became intimate friends, getting familiar about twice a year, sometimes more often when it got too stressful at work. I thought of removing the tonsils, but I wasn’t getting it inflammed often enough to warrant one so the idea was completely dropped.
Now, in the Land of Morning Calm some 2,877 miles away from home, I await my fate. The sore throat I thought I was suffering from had developed to something more familiar and painful. It kept me up the whole night and I can’t wait for daybreak to come so I could make arrangements to see a medical doctor. The earlier I start on a course of antibiotics, the better.
Oh, the agony of waiting never felt this excruciating…