Conclusion

As my throat surgery comes to a close, all I feel is daily relief and happiness. It's been a year and a half after my surgery, and the last time I blogged I was heading in the right direction, but not perfect. Here's an overview of the last year and how I'm doing today!

Argentina
I spent 3 months in Argentina after my last appointment. Immediately I joined a rock band and had a blast! For a while... Eventually my throat was tired and a bit sick and it lasted for a few weeks. I did a radio show that went well, and in South America the shows are very short. I'd asked my band mates how many hours a typical gig was and they looked at me like I was nuts. 30 minutes is the norm. I couldn't believe an entire culture understood how delicate and special vocal chords and musicianship are! 

Uruguay
After a few months I moved to Uruguay. There, my voice was better than EVER. I mean it too. It felt even better than the days before I needed surgery (probably due to the tips I got in vocal rehab and therapy). This is the first time I felt confident in a really long time. The doctor had told me that I may recover 90% but not to expect 100%. I was determined, and lucky. In Uruguay I made a living singing at various locations and was on the television... People stopped me daily in the streets and said "You're the singer!" Well... In Spanish haha. I even got some free bus rides when the bus drivers recognized me. I relaxed a bit in social environments even though the smoke in the clubs still bothered me.

Argentina
I went back to Argentina and had some problems for the first few weeks. It became very obvious to me how much the weather and pollution effects my voice. Being by the sea in Uruguay was much easier on my throat than the polluted city. I still had some shows and eventually I adjusted to the air and felt fine. During the week sometimes I taught at summer camps which I never would have considered before due to having to shout all day. While my voice would get tired, it also healed quickly. I was able to work the camps during the week, then belt out country music on the weekend. My voice wasn't feeling perfect, but I chose to try and keep relaxed about it. I had a couple of the best shows of my life while I was there.

USA
I returned back to the States and immediately was ill the moment I got off of the plane. I think I'm allergic to Idaho. I could hardly speak for 3 weeks and wondered if I'd ever feel better– wanting to jump back on a plane to South America. Finally my body adjusted to the environment after about a month, just in time for a show. From that point on, my throat has been improving. The good thing about Idaho is that i can do my vocal warm-ups and practice songs at the top of my lungs without people hearing. (We have a lot of space.) It occurred to me a couple weeks ago that I was babying my voice when it came to belting. That had been my strong point before, and now I was doing a blend instead of going for it. I decided to utilize the privacy of driving in the car and singing in the shower to really test out my belt voice. Had I lost my ability? Or was I just scared? Thank God as it turns out, I was just out of practice. I can now, as of today, two years after my first doctors appointment, say that I am one hundred percent cured. Better than ever. I can socialize like a normal human. I can even be loud, or drink, or be around smoke, and the anxiety and extra care that I had to take is gone. I can sing more challenging songs and have the knowledge to protect from further injuries. I hope if you are reading this due to concerns of your own, that you can finally feel at ease knowing that sometimes, things actually go exactly as planned. 

Please follow me on my website to see where my voice will take me now that nothing is holding me back!!!
Shellypagemusic.com

Photos!

Ok, if I were more organized and a seasoned blogger, I would have posted pictures throughout this entire journey, but alas, I kept forgetting. I did take pictures though so here they are:

No, this is not a vagina. Don't get excited. This is a photo of my vocal cyst. You're looking down my throat and the lump on the right side of the photo is actually on my left vocal chord. It's supposed to be straight on both sides. My left chord has the cyst, and the right isn't straight due to irritation. 

Ok, this is a photo of my chords on my June 18th appointment when the doctors were concerned that I wasn't healing quickly enough. You can see the edges are still a bit lumpy...  They were more concerned about it being pink, but maybe it's easier to see that at another angle. I took pics at each appointment, but accidentally erased most of them so sorry for the leap forward.

This is the latest scoped image that they took on August 2nd. They were much happier with this than any of the other photos so, I guess it looks good! To be honest I can't really tell a difference haha. Of course they watch it as a video and here I'm only showing still images. The white stuff is mucus. I know. Gross. 

Anyway, you can see that it's still not perfect, but the edges will continue to heal throughout the next year and get more smooth. Kinda neat, huh? And nasty. It's embarrassing when unsuspecting people look through the pictures on my computer :)

Better?

Okay, so I neglected this for a while, but I admit I was avoiding writing another blog until I knew what was going on. The last blog that I wrote was in April. I was talking about my experience with strep throat, and admitting that I wouldn’t be able to get back to work very soon. Now, it’s been four months, and a lot has happened. I’ll break it up into two parts: “Better!” and “...maybe not.”

Better:

So, come June, I was feeling great. I had been seeing a woman once a week in Seattle for vocal rehab all throughout May, and she had me working on things like vocal warm-ups and holding out long notes, to rebuild my voice stamina. My progress was a bit inconsistent, but always heading in the right direction. My doctor had given me permission to do small shows here and there as long as the rehab coach said I was ready, so once my voice was feeling stable, I tried it out. I even contacted my old band to make a video demo to get back on ships, and had a meeting with the guy who I was hoping would hire me. Finally, I started singing again. In the car to the radio (which I couldn’t do FOREVER) and with my friends, and finally, at my own show. 

A local coffee shop called “Java” likes to have live music and they all know me over there, and were super accommodating to my easing into singing. The first show that I played was only 2 hours long, but everything felt perfect. I could belt with no strain and do everything! It took me a bit to get used to singing into a mic again, because I had gotten into the habit of touching the mic with my lips when I sing, and letting the mic do the work when I was unwell. It’s actually much healthier to sing with more air and volume, away from the mic, and my volume intimidated me initially, until I got used to it again. Feeling great after that show, I decided to do it again!

The coffee shop asked me back to sing for an event called “Car d’Alene”, a play on words of my town’s name, “Coeur d’Alene”. Anyway, point is, it was loud. Huge crowds of people out to see a parade of old school cars revving their engines right outside. It was fun! But... loud. I tried not to talk between songs unless I was in the mic, but it was still a bit more than I should have done. Plus, I did three hours this time. Singing was no problem. I felt a bit strained while talking, and a little fatigue near the end of my last set, but it wasn’t difficult to stay on key or anything. The next day my voice was a bit sore and hoarse, but it just reminded me to ease into things a little slower. 

That was a Friday, and by the time I got to my June appointment in Seattle the next Monday, my throat was still tired. I made excuses like the dry air on the plane, and not remembering to grab a water bottle at the airport etc.. I also mentioned that I’d overdone it a bit at my show, but otherwise was hoping to be released for work. Well, not just hoping, I was confident about my progress... needless to say, it didn’t go as well as I’d planned.

....Maybe not:

So after scoping me, the doctor and vocal pathologist looked nervous. They told me that   it was pink (my cyst removal site) when it shouldn’t be anymore. He thought that maybe my recovery was delayed due to my strep throat episode, and told me that I wasn’t ready at all to be released for work. He wanted to see me again in 3 months and told me to take it easy again. I argued that my voice was just tired from my show and that really, I’m actually better! I had a show scheduled for later that week and I knew I could do it! Then I cried. Haha. Poor doctors having to deal with my emotions... Dr.Merati was very sweet and understanding, handing me a tissue and changing plans. He said, “Okay I have an idea. Maybe you’re right and I’m not. You know your body better than I do. How about this... you go do your show, see how you feel. In a week or two give me a call. Maybe you’ll feel great and this is just a little fluke, ok? If so, I’ll have you come back in right away and check it out. If not, we’ll think of scheduling something later on.”

That made me feel a little better and I left in a super depressed mood, but still hoping for a quick recovery.

I did a little 2 hour show of soft songs later that week, and realized that Dr.Merati was right. Something was wrong. Crap. I e-mailed him and Ginger, the vocal pathologist and asked what to do. We scheduled an appointment in August and they told me to cross my fingers and toes. Ginger gave me permission to sing at a wedding at the end of July, but told me not to talk at the reception because it would be loud. In all other situations she said to only speak when I absolutely have to. Sooo back to square one. I had been soooo excited to be free again to speak and sing, and here I was caged up again. I had so much anxiety over it, that I didn’t know what to do.

Something else that I was worried about was getting well before I move. It would take a few more months, at least, before I could get approval to work, then a few more to fill a job opening, so I decided to do something else. Move to Argentina. Sounds random, but I had planned on this before, thinking I’d save up money from ships and then go. Now that my options were stay poor at my parents house in Idaho for six more months, or go be poor in Argentina for six months, I chose the latter. Soooo I was stressing over my sore voice, knowing I wouldn’t be able to see the doctor once I left. Was I making the right choice?

My voice sort of planed out over the next month. It was constantly sore and I was always trying to massage my throat and be extra careful to speak properly when I did speak. I made rules where I just plain didn’t speak at all in the mornings, and often times would go on vocal rest while hanging out with friends, or when family was visiting, I’d go sit inside rather than be out socializing with the company. At the wedding, I was extra careful, and as always, awkward because I would just stand around smiling like an idiot instead of contributing to the convo. Finally, the dreaded doctors appointment arrived, and I was prepared for the worst. 

Sitting in the patient room, Ginger came in to have a chat before Dr.Merati scoped me. I explained to her in detail the pain. How my throat was always feeling so tight, and hurting, and suuuper tired. How I always had to massage it and how it felt impossible to speak without glottal attacks (the harsh sound, normally at the beginning of a vowel). She made me stop speaking properly, and told me to start over and just speak how I would if I were being lazy. It was difficult to allow myself to do that after being careful for so long, but when I did, she said that my natural, what I considered to be “unhealthy” voice, was better that my “healthy” voice. She concluded that I was probably over guarding my throat. Being so careful not to hurt it after my last appointment, apparently I had been tightening up the muscles in my throat and holding my stress in those muscles. I wasn’t breathing out when speaking due to all of my stress and it was making my voice fatigued. 

Sure enough, when the doctor scoped me, they told me that it was looking better than ever. The flesh was nice and pale, and everything was right on track! Holy... relief. Oh my gosh, so funny because I was thinking, “How could I be getting worse? I’m the perfect patient! I do everything right!” Well, turns out I was trying too hard. Hah! Of course. Soooo now, it’s been a week since my appointment, and I’m doing better. I was doing MUCH better, but then I think I overdid it haha. It’s going to be a matter of finding the balance between relaxing, and relaxing too much. 

I sang at an open jam, made some new friends and sang some more at a party. I sang at a wedding and now feel more light hearted after my last appointment. I’ll move to Argentina and see Dr.Merati when I get back in six months! He gave me the info of a doctor he knows there just in case, but doesn’t think I’ll need it. Still on my way, but definitely had a reminder that there isn’t a textbook recovery time. Life has it’s way of keeping me on my toes, and right now, I’m going to take it as a good thing. 

Reality

11 months. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve really been able to sing. My surgery was in January, and it’s now April. Although my doctor had said I would probably not be able to gig for 6 months after the surgery, I was going for 3. He said it’s possible, but not probable and I was out to prove that I could do it. I was a perfect angel throughout my pre surgery, post surgery, vocal therapy, and on the side. As it turns out, there’s more to a perfect recovery than perfect behavior.

By March, I could tell things were going to be more slow moving then I had hoped. Although I was doing everything right, it was still taking forever! I wanted to be singing by the end of March. I didn’t necessarily expect to be able to sing 4 hours a day (which is what’s expected for a solo act) but I thought a couple hours a few times a week at least. I was home doing the vocal warm-ups and exercises that had been given to me by the vocal coach in Seattle, and I officially graduated from vocal therapy! Every day I was doing these strengthening exercises but was surprised at how easily my throat was still tiring. I had hoped this process would go faster, but it was becoming painfully obvious that I had a long way to go. 

I did get to sing a little tiny bit. My vocal coach had said not to sing for more than 15 minutes at a time and to do very light singing if I did. That was going well and I actually recorded a little video to cheer my friend up. It wasn’t great, but it was a soft easy song. If you care to hear it, this is the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBbSW9N7alk You can also hear how my speaking voice is in the beginning of the video. I find it annoying, but after 10 months of vocal therapy, that turns out to be my healthy voice so I need to get used to it. 

Soon after I recorded that video, I was waking up in the morning with vocal fatigue. Initially I thought I’d overdone it. Finally I was healthy enough to go out dancing and do a little drinking with my friends, and since it had been months and months since I’d been able to indulge, I took advantage of it. I still didn’t allow myself to speak in the bars, so the vocal fatigue was confusing me. Had I spoken without realizing it? Was my lip-syncing to the songs working the muscles too much? What had I done? Even though I had a few drinks, I always made sure to make drinking water a priority. Was I talking too much throughout the day with my friends? The confusion over my vocal pain gave me serious anxiety and I didn’t have my vocal therapist anymore to ask questions. I was supposed to be seeing the vocal coach in Seattle, but there was confusion on the insurance side of things and they were taking forever to figure it out. In the mean time, I was home with throat pain and nobody to comfort me about it or suggest solutions. It wasn’t long though, before the mystery was solved.

I had only been healthy enough to go out 2 weekends in a row. After the second weekend, my best friend Erin called me up with an urgent message. She told me to get the the doctor quick. We had been sharing drinks on and off over the last two weeks, and she was coming home from the doctor. Bronchitis. Knowing how important it is for my vocal chords not to cough, she wanted me to see the doctor as soon as possible to catch it early. I took her advice and rushed over to the urgent care. They did a few tests on me, and when the doctor came back in to discuss things with me, I apologized. I told him that I’ve never gone to the doctor feeling so healthy before, but I just wanted to be safe. He said that it’s lucky I came in, because my strep test came back positive. What?? Okay.... I’m a chronic strep throat girl, or, I was. As a kid it hurt but not too terribly, but in High School, I had it soooo badly that I was rushed to the hospital a few times, and I even had an IV in my hand at all times so that I could go to the doctor and have them hydrate me intravenously. I couldn’t eat or drink anything and I lost so much weight my pants were falling off. The worst part was the last day of every round of antibiotics, the infection would come back WAY worse than it was before. I think I had it four straight times before they finally took my tonsils out. After that, I never had strep throat again. You might imagine my surprise when I was expecting a bronchitis diagnosis and got a strep one instead with very little comparative pain. Thinking that I caught it early, I thanked my lucky stars and got antibiotics right away.

I wrote my doctor and vocal coach and asked what to do. They told me not to worry and that I’ll be better soon, but in the mean time I had to go on vocal rest until my symptoms were gone. Doh! Not again! Oh well. Small price I suppose. The only problem with that was that I didn’t really have symptoms! My throat was a bit sore and when I tried working out I got tired way sooner than usual, but other than that I felt better than ever. I decided to go on vocal rest until my throat wasn’t sore upon waking up in the morning which was about 3 days into my 10 days of antibiotics. Still, I kept talking to a minimum at first and didn’t do my strengthening exercises or singing. The second to last day of my treatment, I was feeling great so I did my warm-ups, and even a tiny bit of singing while I practiced guitar. That night, I wished I hadn’t. Again, I thought I overdid it. My throat almost felt swollen as I went to bed. When I woke up the next morning, I knew something was wrong.

History does repeat itself. On the last day of my antibiotics, I woke up with what felt like marbles in my throat. I knew from experience that my strep was back with a vengeance, worse than before.  Going straight to the urgent care, I found that my suspicions were correct. Positive for strep. While after my first visit I was excited to have caught it early, after this visit I felt a sense of dread. Now, instead of a few days lost in my progress, it’s going to be 20 days. I was given another 10 days worth of meds but the doctor didn’t seem confident that it would work. If my strep doesn’t go away this time... then what? They can’t take my tonsils out again! 

This is where I stand right now. I’m halfway through my meds, and my throat still hurts a little. I’ve wasted a month of progress and possibly even lost the progress I had made, taking me back to the beginning. I suppose this stands as a good reminder. My thought this whole time was that when I’m recovered from surgery, I’ll be able to sing every day again with no problems. It never occurs to me to factor in illness. Even when my throat is better and there’s no sign of the cyst, I need to remember that I’m not a machine. Some things are simply out of my control and the sooner I realize this, the better. As the month of April continues to pass me by one fast day at a time, I have to remind myself that working by April was an optimistic goal of mine. In the beginning I had said that I would like to be working by the end of March or April, but I’d understand if I wasn’t ready. It’s difficult to admit defeat and to realize that I’ll be jobless for a few more months than I had planned, but I suppose what matters is that one day I’ll be better. Even if that day isn’t here right now. 

Slow Motion

I feel like my life is in slow motion. Like I’m watching my life as a movie, but I’m not actually part of it. There’s a lot of action going on, but I’m watching in slow motion. I know something’s happening, but it’s making me extremely restless and frustrated. Its like the remote doesn’t work so even though I want to put everything back to normal time, I’m forced to watch in in very slow, boringly predictable increments. 

I may have mentioned before that when I was living in Las Vegas I made the connection between singing and my mood. The first couple months that I lived in Las Vegas, my throat wasn’t used to the dry hot air of the desert and so until I was acclimated, I couldn’t really sing. It’s sort of the way that chronic pain tricks people into being in a bad mood. Or lack of sleep. Or hunger. Okay, hopefully you get my point... initially it takes a while to figure out why we’re in a bad mood. Sometimes, it never even occurs to us to try to figure it out because we’re so sure that our mood is justified that it’s not until later that we realize we were being an unreasonable ass. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I was being stressed out and grumpy until one day when my voice felt good. I sang and played guitar all day and only then, by the contrast of my good mood, did I realize how bad it had gotten. From then on, any time I found my mood falling, I saw that it was in direct correlation with how my voice was doing. It’s not rocket science, but it’s been helpful to me. We all have those friends who get grumpy until they eat something... I’m grumpy until I sing. Weird, but true. 

This need to sing is probably the reason that you hear so many musicians saying “music is my life!” I could never really explain to people who aren’t musical what it means to be so passionate about something like this, but now I think I’m getting closer. Think of each of us as a computer. (Maybe this is a bad example cause I don’t really know a ton about computers, but work with me here...) Okay so we’ve got the main hard drive. That’s like, our breathing, heartbeat, and our senses. Then we have add-ons and downloads which would be our hobbies. So, that’s where art, music, and sports, etc. come in and make us individuals. Way more basic then it could be, but the point is, I think that some of us have the hobbies built directly into our core processor (computer people... does that make sense?). It’s not an add-on, it’s at the heart of us the same way that breathing or thinking is. For some it’s music, some it’s sports, for some it’s business... It’s the only way that I can think to explain people who are intensely passionate about something. It’s at the core of our being and we’d have a hard time living without it. 

This may all seem like gibberish (okay... it kind of is. Sorry.) but there is a point behind it all. I am one of those people who has to sing. I don’t even notice when I’m singing. I’m like that crazy lady who sings and hums under my breath in a crowded elevator or in line at the buffet. The socially adequate part of my brain (i.e. my sister’s scolding look etched in my mind) reminds me that these things are considered strange and awkward, but I honestly don’t know I’m doing it. I’ll catch myself and stop, and then as soon as I move on, I do it again. 

Things changed in May of 2011 when I hurt my throat. I was told not to sing or hum or my throat would never get better. That’s the ONLY motivator that I could have that would possibly work. I’ve been a perfect angel. Today it’s been exactly two months since I had surgery in January, and TEN months since I had to stop singing. Oh my gosh... didn’t realize it until I wrote it just now. Crazy. Only now am I really starting to miss my singing at a level that I actually feel is effecting my health in a negative way. It feels as though I’ve been depriving myself of my music vitamin and throughout the months it’s been slowly leaching out of my bones. Now, I’m almost out of my reserves and I’m getting desperate. Although my surgery was 2 months ago, my recovery is going to be a long one. Dr.Merati said it takes about 6 months after surgery before my vocal chords will be ready to play gigs again. I’m shooting for 3 months but suddenly it feels like that goal is rapidly approaching and I’m not ready yet. Now that I mentioned I was a perfect angel, I have to be honest...

Okay. So I was perfect for a while, but now it’s getting hard. I’m well enough to speak again. My voice rarely gets tired and I even have held conversations in loud places (not a good idea but oh well...) without tiring out my voice. So there are some very obvious exciting improvements. At my one month appointment the doctor told me my throat looked as good as someone who’d been healing for 2-3 months so I was really excited. He told me I still wasn’t allowed to sing, and I truly had all intentions of following his instructions. One day I was home alone (that never happens.) and I had this crazy natural reaction so start singing. Now... let me back track. I’d not been listening to certain music that I love singing like, Christina Aguilera, Mariah Carey, Adele, etc., because I know I have absolutely no control over myself and can’t help singing along. I also deprived myself of musical environments like open jam nights, karaoke bars, and even friends who might encourage me to sing. Those sacrifices have been in place for months. So on this day, for once I trusted myself and put my itunes on random. Eventually a random Celine Dion karaoke track that I had on my computer started playing and I swear... even if I had a gun to my head and was told not to sing, I don’t know if I could have resisted. Celine Dion. Really? It’s not even like I went for a chill Norah Jones song. I busted that song out like I’ve never sang before. Initially some of the notes were a bit shaky due to my weak throat, but by the end I was belting the high notes better than I had before surgery. Then, I couldn’t stop singing. 

It’s like crying. Or laughing. A cathartic release that you don’t really have control over. It may sound strange that singing can be just as hard to stop doing as crying, but it makes sense. It’s even just as easy to start, hence depriving myself of musical environments. I finally realized that the reason I’ve been shit at practicing guitar, is because it’s a gateway to singing... just the way a sad movie is to someone trying not to cry. Singing has always been the way that I de-stress and let everything out. It makes me feel way better about myself than chocolate can (pretty much the closest mood enhancer that I found to singing hahaha), and it was well overdue. I was freaking out with guilt inside, but once I opened the floodgate, it was almost impossible to stop singing. Almost like, I had closed a door for a long time, then I opened it and let a little singing out, but then left the door wide open and told the rest of the singing not to leave. It kept trickling out. Okay, it’s kinda like only peeing a little. Sorry. Had to go there. It’s the best example I’ve got. We all know how hard that is. These are all just complicated ways for me to be delivering my excuses. I sang when I wasn’t supposed to. Afterwards, I felt like a woman on a strict diet who suddenly binged and ate and entire cake as quickly as possible. I couldn’t undo what I’d done, but I was really nervous that I pushed too far. The next day my throat was very weak and tired and I suffered from anxiety until a day later when I saw my vocal therapist. She reassured me that I didn’t undo my progress but told me not to do it again. 

It’s getting more and more difficult for me to spend my time doing lip trills and hissing noise, working on reducing glottal attacks while speaking, and using frontal focus. (Will write a more technical blog explaining all of this later).Yes. Good. I know it’s what I have to do in order to make it to a full recovery but I just. want. to. sing. Now where’s that god damn remote. 

Social Life

Social encounters are impossible to avoid. Even if I lock myself in my parent’s house like a hermit and avoid any contact with the outside world, my parents will still talk to me. It’s inevitable. Also, adding 10 minutes of speaking a day is important because I’m supposed to be restoring my vocal chords to their natural vibrations. If I chose just to keep silent, I wouldn’t be recovering. The point is that I do have to talk. The reason I bring up the social aspect is because it makes it way more complicated. When I was on total vocal rest, people understood. Easy. They didn’t expect me to respond to them vocally (well... unless they were clueless), and waited for me to write to them on my whiteboard. Now that I’m allowed to speak a little, everyone seems to think I’m cured. As a general rule, people don’t easily accept that I can be speaking to them one moment and then not the next. It comes across as rude or “Well... what’s the big deal in answering me? You were just talking!” It’s difficult enough for me to know when to stop talking. I have to count the hm’s and ha’s and it’s hard to know sometimes what it’s added up to. So when I’m around people who don’t understand, it makes it even more difficult. You follow? Sigh. Complicated. 

Something else that I feel I should mention under this social subject, is my paranoia over possible injury and how that effects the way I respond to others. I find myself constantly annoyed with people. When men take me on dates to places that are loud then try to hold a conversation with me, I’m pretty close to livid. Maybe this makes me a diva, but it’s not like my voice problem is a secret to them... they just decide it’s not very important to worry about. Or when I say I won’t be able to talk to them at a hockey game and they say “you could just do some warm-ups before we get in and you’ll be good to go.” No. Arrogant ass. I will NOT be good to go ruining my voice on your self-absorbed company, thank you. I found that my mother says “huh?” or “what?” just about every time I speak. It also occurred to me that she doesn’t have a hearing problem, it’s a listening problem. If I choose not to repeat myself and just wait it out, it turns out that she actually knows what I said and will answer. Can’t believe I didn’t discover this sooner! Hahaha. Repeating myself is NOT something I will happily do lately. I keep finding myself in what would be super normal situations, but I’m the only one who understands how important my health is and it quickly ruins the fun. When my friends try to get me to smoke with them, for instance, I have to wonder what their motive is. Any good friend would say “Keep away! We’re going to be smoking and you have to take care of your voice!” Hahaha. Yeah right. I’ll admit that none of this is new to me. It reminds me of working on cruise ships. 

Over and over again on ships I was forced to see that my best interests are not something people usually care about. I had to sing 4 hours a day 7 days a week so even BEFORE I injured my voice, my vocal health was my number one priority. It’s funny that of all the singers I knew who would get drunk, scream, and smoke while belting out crew karaoke, I was the one who ended up with throat issues. I was so careful on ships compared to anyone I know. It was frustrating that my friends didn’t care about me protecting my throat. Every night I’d be teased for buying water and people would refuse to accept that I wasn’t drinking alcohol. They would buy me a drink and I’d make them angry by turning it down when it was already paid for. Always, people would try to hold loud conversations or get me to sing along with the bar songs for some reason. They’d drunkenly say, “You’re a singer! Can you sing this? Sing this! Come on! Why aren’t you singing?? I know you can! Sing it!”. It has always frustrated the hell out of me that nobody knows how important it is to me to keep healthy and take care of my voice. A true friend would pat me on the back and tell me how proud they were that I was able to keep my priorities straight, right? Those people rarely surfaced. It felt kinda like I was a known alcoholic and everyone was teasing me for not drinking... or a kid with an obesity problem and everyone was shoving cake in my face. Smoking, drinking, loud talking, and extra singing were all things that were bad for my voice, but that’s all people seemed to want from me. I’m lucky in a way that I had the opportunity to learn early on that most people who appear to give a crap about you, actually don’t. If I were able to do all of these socially normal things, I never would have realized who really cares about me and who doesn’t. 

I’m going to say right now that I recognize that it’s not all out of selfish behavior that my friends act this way. Sometimes it just comes down to being ignorant on the subject. What’s obvious common sense to me, just isn’t to some others. I don’t hold anything against people who don’t understand, I just choose when, and when not to, hang around them. It also really makes me appreciate the few and far between who are willing to listen and learn. I’ve accepted the fact that my career means more to me than my social life and I only hope that one day I’ll have enough friends in my life who understand me so that I can have both :) Oh... or that I develop vocal chords of steal and can REALLY have it all... well, lets go one goal at a time haha. 

The Waiting Game

Oh the wait. The tedious, careful wait. This part has been challenging so far. My doctor had warned me that after a good post-op appointment, patients tend to overdue it. Being the perfect angel that I am, I thought that armed with this information, avoiding poor behavior would be easy. Of course, I discovered that nothing’s ever black and white, and that this turned out to be much more difficult than I predicted. As a review, I’m going to remind everyone what I was told to do after my last appointment on the 19th of January. I’m to add 10 minutes of talking each day, but I can only speak up to 10 minutes at a time... so even if I’m up to 2 hours a day, keep the talking to 10 minutes. Next, I was told to do nothing that would make me breathe hard or grunt. Hm. So... no snowboarding. The other requirements are the obvious “don’t speak over loud noises or yell across the house” etc. Easy, right? Well... let me explain where I’ve run into problems...

First of all, none of this is good for the social life. I’ll go into that more in my next blog because that’s a whole story on it’s own, but the fact is that my voice recovery will be lasting much longer than people realize. They see me and hear me speaking, and think I can go back to doing everything normal. People are offended if I don’t respond verbally to them, and they call to me from another room as if expecting me to yell back. 

Another problem is how much better I feel! After a couple weeks of being allowed to speak, I felt so much better that I thought the wound must have healed, and now I was working on building up the muscle. While I still avoided activities like snowboarding, (believing the cold air still wouldn’t be good for me), I had begun doing a low cardio workout everyday. Sitting on the couch so much during recovery was starting to make me crazy so I just did a light one hour workout every day. When I started vocal therapy back up a couple days ago, she informed me that my wound was still healing and that any hard breathing could potentially cause my throat to heal abnormally or cause a hemorrhage, and scar tissue. This was mortifying to me because here I promised to be a perfect patient, and I didn’t even realize I’d been risking hurting my throat! It was a nice wakeup call. She told me to at least wait another week (when I have my second post-op) to do anything active. 

I’m finding that a good recovery isn’t always about people being good patients or not. I thought that since it means so much to me, I would be perfect, but I allowed my senses to trick me. Just because it’s been forever and I feel really well, doesn’t actually mean I am well. It’s important to remain excited to get better, but not TOO excited! Now I’m cutting back and taking it easy again. This poor couch is now shaped perfectly to my body, but if that’s what it takes to sing again, call me an Idaho couch potato.