Abby has been to see a lot of doctors in her short life. As a baby, she battled kidney infections on an almost monthly basis. She’s had more stitches on her little body than I can even count, a ride in an ambulance when she split her head open, and some much-needed assistance from some very handsome firemen. And less than a month ago, she had surgery.

The point of her brief medical history: she’s scared of ANYONE in white coat. And for good reason.

So I got her a pediatrician Barbie (see above). I thought that maybe playing with Dr. Barbie at home might help her get used to white coats during real office visits.

Other than the teeny tiny tongue depressors, which were OBVIOUS choking hazards, it worked like a charm. She even says now that she wants to be a doctor when she grows up. Nice work, Babs.

I thought I’d look for another type of “smart” Barbie for her birthday gift. Turns out Dr. Barbie is part of an “I Can Be” series. According to Mattel, the series allows little girls to “try on” fabulous careers. A quick look around and I discovered there is a wide array of inspirational occupations as part of the series. Right now,  little girls everywhere are daydreaming about successful becoming a Baby Sitter, Lifeguard, Ballerina, Dolphin Trainer, Rock Star, Wedding Stylist, Pizza Chef, Snowboarder, Ballroom Dancer, Ballet Teacher, Movie Star or even a Bride!

Yes, having a career as a bride is totally the same as growing up to be a doctor.

So what did I order? This.

Computer Engineer Barbie, of course! I am from a family of geeked-out computer nerds. I read in a review that her laptop spells BARBIE in binary code. Until they come out with copyeditor Barbie, this will have to do.

My apologies for the radio silence. I have been cut open, sewn up, and neared death more than once. Then, I completely lost my marbles, moved in with my parents, was babied by my mommy and moved back home, only to be tortured by my babies.

That’s right, I got my tonsils out.

I work at a hospital where I regularly interact with some of the world’s top physicians and surgeons. When I told them I’d be out for a couple of weeks to have the procedure–the reaction was NEVER good.

Here are some ACTUAL responses from docs and/or nurses here at the hospital:

“Yikes!”

“You are going to feel like you are swallowing shards of glass.”

“I am SO sorry. I will pray for you.”

“It’s worse pain than childbirth or kidney stones, you know that, right?”

“It’s the worst surgical recovery possible. Your C-section will seem like a day at the park.”

“Recovery for kids is SO much easier.” –thanks for telling me that TWENTY FIVE YEARS AGO

“Great! You won’t be able to talk!”–from one of my favorite surgeons and part-time heckler

“You are going to be planning my death the first week post-op.”–from my actual ENT surgeon that took ‘em out

After heeding such ominous warnings one might think that I would change my mind. But the wheels were in motion. I was having the same Strep Throat infection 4-5 times a year. I was really sick with throat-related infections the last two Christmases. The final straw, for me, was that I kept passing infections to the babies. I’d get well while they were sick, then they’d give it back to me, just as they were getting better. It was a vicious cycle. We were a big hot (literally) feverish, drugged-up mess. It had to stop.

So I did it. I had the surgery. As they wheeled me into the operating room, happy as a clam, being pumped full Versed, I had thoughts of grandeur, about how awesome I was for making such a great sacrifice for my family. It can’t be THAT bad, right? I can do this. Then I nodded quietly off to sleep.

When I opened my eyes, I gasped. There had to have been some mistake. A scalpel had been left in my throat. That was the only explanation. I opened my mouth to tell Rob to get help and nothing came out. There wasn’t a scalpel there, of course, but it sure as HECK felt like it. And remained that way until two days ago, which, just as a frame of reference, was 11 days post-op.

You see, with most surgeries, the pain is the worst in the beginning, then gets better each day. That is SO not what happened. In fact, by day four, I was ready to die just to find relief. I stayed with my parents for almost a week, who lovingly took care of me when I can confidently say I was at my worst. Ever. The whole thing was a sleepy, sweaty, painful blur. Every sip was so painful, I would gag, and whatever I was trying to drink would dribble out of my nose.

Even though I am still drinking Ensure* as my meals, I am on my way to recovery. I am back at work and 12 pounds lighter (although this isn’t exactly a viable weight-loss option–I suggest lap band or something WAY less painful.)

I am not writing this to scare anyone out of a tonsillectomy. I wanted to share the TRUTH so that you know what to expect. It was horrible, but in the totally worth it. It has made me stronger. My family and I will be healthier. Seriously if I can get through that, I can get through anything. And so can you.

When I came back to work, a colleague of mine said, “Pain must agree with you. You look great.”

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly, secretly knowing it was the narcotics.

*I was not in any way compensated by Ensure, but IF the lovely folks at Ensure want to send me a couple free cases, I’ll totally take it. It’ll be another few weeks that I am on this liquid/soft food diet. Just sayin.

I just wanted to lament for a second, so humor me. I’ve been sick since Thanksgiving. It was originally strep throat, then it morphed into bronchitis which has now settled into my lungs. I just picture that mucus dude with the Jersey accent, relaxing on his barka lounger in my alveoli. I cough all day and all night. I’m am so OVER it!

Abby and Ellie have some version of this too–stuffy noses and rattly coughs.

Here’s what nobody tells you about being a mom: When you are sick, the demands don’t change. You don’t get a day or two to hole yourself up in your room and just sleep it off. The baby still gets up at the crack of dawn, there are diapers to be changed and mouths to feed.

And here’s the kicker–Rob is sick too. He stayed home yesterday (we both did) and he acted more like a baby than our actual baby. I know this will pass, but life is hard enough without the craziness of a whole family of sickypoos.