I am a tonsil. I live in the throat of 65-year-old Robert Eckleberry.



It may seem that's a dismal place to live, but I'm much moncler jackets luckier than many tonsils - for example those who work in a jar of alcohol on a shelf. Robert's mother i never thought it necessary for Robert to have his tonsils out like a son, whereas many mothers of this era viewed removal of their young offspring's tonsils and adenoids as a rite of passage.



Once the doctor discussed with Robert's mother whether her son should have a tonsillectomy, she said, "Robert does not have many colds. His tonsils aren't enlarged. He must have those tonsils for many purpose."



Among the two tonsils under consideration, I was mighty glad. Otherwise I would not be here. And it's been a great life. At least it's until now - but situations are changing.



It's regarding our privacy. Not just for Nike Dunk Low me - however for my fellow tonsil - and for all my other intimate friends that comprise Robert's body: lungs, liver, kidneys, tibias, etc.



For awhile everything was quite pleasant - but for the greater degree we'd our privacy. We reveled for the reason that privacy - just like the American public revels in its privacy.



True, every time Robert's mother took him towards the doctor, that doctor acted as if we tonsils had no privacy whatsoever. He'd tell Robert to "open wide" and there I had been almost totally exposed. And sometimes he further violated my privacy by probing me with what looked like a Popsicle stick and telling Robert to express, "Ahhh." I hated that. I felt abercrombie and fitch totally "stripped" and humiliated every time a doctor did that.



If you're thinking that I, like a tonsil, am overly sensitive about invasion of my privacy, just give you credit humans. Consider the hullabaloo you've staged in reaction towards the heightened security measures for airline passengers. You've really howled about how exactly you didn't want to be probed, patted, and felt.



And you've got allies. "Big Brother" - the federal government - is on your side and it has passed considerable legislation to mandate privacy. About every single day you ruehl receive notices within the mail from banks and brokerages and investment firms confirming the observance of those privacy rights.



When you go into many banking institutions nowadays, a sign advises not to exceed a certain point, which means you can't overhear a customer's transactions at the cashier's window. Often, whenever you get a drug prescription, an identical sign reminds you to keep the distance which means you can't listen to discussions with a pharmacist regarding one's private matters.



But nobody has bothered to take up the rights people tonsils - and all sorts of my buddies: the kidneys, spleen, heart, lungs, aorta, stomach, intestines, etc.



Robert's esophagus includes a real horror story to tell. It was happy as could be - snug and secure down there in Robert's interior. After which Robert began having trouble swallowing. When he mentioned it to his coach bags doctor, the doctor said, "Well, we'll have to look into that."



And the next thing that esophagus knew, Robert was about the operating table undergoing a "procedure." A contraption that some human invented - because surely no esophagus would invent juicy handbags that - allowed a doctor to see in and "observe" that esophagus. And then a doctor further violated my esophagus friend's privacy, by using a device that "stretched" some of it. The esophagus was appalled.



 

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