Lies My Doctor Told Me.

I am working on my third sore throat this fall. For some reason, I kick it for a little while, then I start hearing crackling noises in my right ear and I know the pain is about to rear its ugly head. Gargle with salt water, rinse and repeat times four. I don't have a doctor because I don't have insurance, but I did go to a local clinic and was proclaimed "fine". This time I've got that husky voice thing going on. Female Rod Stewart. Kathleen Turner. You get the idea.
I no longer own any tonsils or adenoids, having had them carved out and plopped in a medical waste bin when I was 23, under the guise of the old Ice Cream Myth. You know what I'm talking about - the one where they tell you that after you have your tonsils out, you can have all the ice cream, Jello, and pudding you want. I contentedly drifted off to surgery under this impression.

Imagine my surprise upon waking, when the scenario went *exactly* like this: Me, feeling like I inhaled Napalm with each breath, my throat gunking up and burning, combined with the grogginess and nausea of shaking off anesthesia. Enter the nurse, if not chipper, then at least, quick and nimble. From her pocket she produced two bags of

POTATO CHIPS.

Nurse: "Ok, You startin' to come out of now? Alright, as soon as you feel ready [read: NOW] I want you to start on some of these chips, and I'll check back and see how you're making out." She started to prance out as if that were totally normal. Surely she thought she was in the room with the patient who had a broken ankle but can eat chips? Not someone who just had her throat butchered?
I managed a grunt before she made to Base (that's the point at which nurses can safely pretend they don't hear your last request, and keep going down the hall) - the threshold of the door. She came back. I asked her about the ice cream, and she became stern. "No, no , no", Nurse Ratchet insisted as she started bending each finger back on one hand as a counting method, " We need you to eat chiiiiips, pretzellllls, tooooooast, crunchy and salty stuff." I laughed a little that she pulled off the joke so earnestly. "Well, if we have to go that route, can the ice cream be Rocky Road?", I asked. Not even a snicker. I looked at my then-boyfriend and croaked, "Are you in on this?", but he swore he wasn't.
The nurse explained the crunchy bits would scrape off bits of blood clots and keep the scabbing thin so that it would not all come off at once and hemorrhage. (Ewww, I know.) The salt is not compatible with many forms of bacteria, so the hope is that the salty food would keep bacteria down. (Thus the saltwater gargles for sore throats).
I mean HOW DID THEY KEEP THIS UNDER WRAPS FOR SO LONG?
Is this a conspiracy? Are they secretly wheeling people in for a tonsillectomy, knowing how freaking bad it hurts and pulling the old bait-n-switch with the ice cream? Or is this a new trend? Bad medicine?

IMAGE: I think I found my surgeon's school doodles:

So after my tonsillectomy, I followed orders and ate chips and felt like there was a battle with Ginsu knives going on in my throat.
Almost 20 years later, my tonsils are haunting me this summer and I'm losing my voice. But I'm going for some Heavenly Hash RIGHT NOW.

P.S.  Did you ever wonder why the medical logo, caduceus, has snakes winding around it?