You've gone! After years of aggravation you've taken with you the high temperatures and sleepless nights up with our six-year-old son. The bottles of antibiotic – once a mainstay of our fridge – are nowhere to be seen. The painkillers are gathering dust. The out-of-hours surgery is off speed dial.
As tonsils go, you were pretty impressive creatures. We sometimes marvelled that our son could swallow at all, given that you met in the middle and left little space at the back of his mouth for anything else. Compared with the neat little red balls we saw in our daughter's throat, you were monsters. While other kids in his class stomped about with runny noses, you transformed all our son's sniffles into full-blown tonsillitis. When she took you out, the surgeon was shocked by the state you were in, with deeply scarred ridges left by countless foul infections.
The Royal National Ear, Nose & Throat hospital in London, where you met your match in the surgeon's knife, was a testament to the strength of the NHS. We knew our son was in safe hands. And in the months before the operation, we were given prompt access to eminent specialists who monitored our son closely. Our son was given his own nurse, who read him stories. She even managed to distract him with picture games, while the anaesthetist injected some "magic milk" into his hand and got him to sleep. We have moaned about the state of the health service in recent years, but cannot fault the decisive, confident steps taken to remove you.
Tonsils, you tested us and put us through some difficult times. But we learned some helpful lessons too. We discovered that our son is a fighter – that he can cope with fevers above 41C at night, and still be playing electronic games in the morning. He also learned how to thrive, despite missing half of every term.
All this will no doubt stand him in good stead throughout his life. We learned that our child is resilient and patient, and that we could be flexible in our work and play. We also learned who our friends were: those who refused to take it personally when outings were cancelled again, and those who turned up unannounced to take our daughter to school in the morning, when her brother had been up all night.
We are so glad you are gone. When we kiss our son now, his cheeks are deliciously cool instead of burning hot. We know a tonsillectomy will not protect him from other childhood illnesses, but at least the tonsillitis is gone. The endless visits to doctors' surgeries, the dashes to A&E and the usual call to school reporting another absence are behind us. Most importantly, our son is happier, healthier and even bouncier. Jane Bernstein
