
I lived through the most ridiculous tonsillectomy recovery.
It was 2014, and I was doing what any responsible 23-year-old would do days before a tonsillectomy surgery. I was taking shots of tequila at a bar with some friends, in anticipation of my upcoming surgery recovery period, when the cute guy that had been eyeing us came up to the bar and ordered a drink.
His name was Peter, and he seemed very sweet. He was really funny and after some small talk, we took a shot of tequila together in memory of my tonsils, exchanged numbers, and said goodbye. I never thought I’d see him again.
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I was surprised to get a text from him the very next day while I was running errands and stocking the fridge with ‘surgery recovery approved food’.
He asked if he could visit me while I was recovering and I said yes, even though I knew I would be a drugged-up mess and I couldn’t see anyone.
But it was sweet of him to ask.
On the day of surgery, I walked in brave and walked out in a daze.
My sister picked me up, brought me home, and the rest of that day was a painkiller-induced blur.
I tried to sleep but woke up every 15 minutes gasping for air. Though the doctor had warned me I would have trouble sleeping with the swelling, I didn’t know the recovery could be this bad.
I had pictured myself sleeping peacefully and waking up to watch Sex and the City while I ate a pint of mint chip ice cream.
This was not the case.
On day two of recovery, I was still in pain and still absolutely drugged up when Peter texted me, asking if he could bring over some get well soon ice cream. Unfazed and high, I said yes and gave this hot stranger from the bar my address.
A few hours later, he rang the doorbell, standing at my door with flowers and a pint of chocolate swirl ice cream.
I thought he was the sweetest to come see a girl he had just met in this drugged-up state. I let him into my apartment, and we crawled right into bed.
I don’t really remember much of what happened after that, but I know he spent the rest of the day with me. He set an alarm on his phone to give me my painkiller and with it, my nausea pill.
Top Comments
“I thought he was the sweetest to come see a girl he had just met in this drugged-up state. I let him into my apartment, and we crawled right into bed.“. Or you know just totally creepy stalkeresque from a guy you literally just met in a bar....
Honestly, not a facepalm big enough for this one. Him being engaged and looking to con you is absolute best case scenario here. I hope you've developed some sense of self-preservation from this.