I lost my voice on May 11, 2020. The voice that sang bass in choruses performing works by Bach, Mozart, Rutter, Brahms, Berlioz, Verdi, and many others. The voice that taught many folks about science for decades. The voice that was used every day for routine conversation with my wife. I miss that voice.
A team of excellent medical specialists removed my larynx that day, due to a small cancer that had proven resistant to radiation. For a cancer of this type, radiation works 95% of the time. I drew the short straw. The really frustrating part? This is a smoker's disease, and I have never smoked.
The surgery was more extensive than I had imagined. A muscle was moved from my chest to my neck. My throat was re-engineered, such that I now breathe through a hole in my neck, and my mouth and nose have no connection to my lungs. This does have a few advantages...I'll never choke on a piece of food again, for example.
After five days in the ICU, I went home to my new reality, trailing drainage tubes from my multiple incisions. I can honestly say that I've had my throat cut from ear to ear, and survived to tell you about it. And then there was the feeding tube directly into my stomach, which I had to use for a month while my esophagus healed. For someone who loves to cook good food, as I do, that was one of the most irritating things of the whole ordeal. But I'm back to cooking now. All good.
You will have noticed that the surgery took place during the height of the first wave of Covid. I had to be tested before the surgery could occur. And with the second wave occurring now, I have to be even more vigilant due to my added risk factor. I'm in my 70's, and now I have a direct viral path to my lungs. Great.
But probably the biggest impact was psychological. I have always been a quiet person, even stoic at times. After all, I'm half Finn, so I thought I could cope well with the loss of my voice, since there are ways to deal with it. Well, I was wrong. Yes, I'm coping, but things could be better.
There are two techniques to replace your natural voice. One is an electrolarynx, which is a device you press against your throat to give you a robotic sounding voice. I have tried it a number of times, and my wife has difficulty understanding me. Since she's the one I want to talk with most of the time, this is very disappointing. So I mostly write messages on pads or send her text messages. The little nuances of daily conversation have been lost.
The second voice technique is a tracheal esophageal prosthesis (TEP), which is a small surgically implanted device to allow air back into the oral cavity for speaking purposes. I can have one of those installed now, but am hesitant to use up hospital resources during the time of Covid resurgence. I also want to avoid possible exposure to the virus until a vaccine is available.
So, I find that I am inhibited in going out to do normal things now. I don't want to be put in a situation where I have to talk with people, since I can't talk. How many times have you had to deal with a mute person? But I am gradually finding that I and others can adapt to this situation. I have never been emotive (the Finn part, again), and always hated charades, but have found that gestures and body language work very well at communicating. And people have been more than helpful when they realize I can't talk with them. My favorite story is the guy at the fish counter in the grocery store who immediately changed his responses to hand and head signals himself when I placed my order in writing. With a big smile...
I'm still fighting the urge to just stay home to avoid interactions, but I can't say that I've had a bad experience yet when I have gone out. I will keep pushing myself to adapt, and keep reminding myself that this is a small price to pay for health. And I will always have the memory of singing a glorious requiem in St. Mary's Cathedral in San Francisco.
SISU.