In Search of My Voice

A little over a year ago I had a partial thyroidectomy (half of my thyroid removed). What led me to the operating table was an innocent enlarged thyroid, which for many years - 12 that I was aware of - lay dormant. An early test showed it was benign.

The doctor told me thyroid conditions, particularly in midlife women, often develop as we get older. She tried to make me feel good and said it was sort of like with men and prostate conditions - if they lived long enough, most men would likely develop some problem. And she added, if by some chance my growth turned to cancer, not to worry. It would be very slow growing and quite contained. Not very consoling. Nor to be candid, very concerning. Life went on and I enjoyed robust health.

Last year when I went for a check-up things had changed. I didn’t need the doctor’s ruler pressed to my neck to tell me something was awry. The mirror told me the same. I had quite a protrusion on my neck.

I didn’t reflect too much on the “Why Now” question, although I am very aware that when something manifests itself physically in my body it’s the universe’s way of getting my attention - BIG TIME. It also did not escape me that the part of my body impacted was my communication center - my voice. I sought more opinions and had MRIs, catscans, Xrays. You name it, I had it. All the tests confirmed that I needed to get this growth removed. And so I did.

I had an experienced and sensitive surgeon who took great care and time explaining my condition, the procedure and the risks. The biggest one to me being potential permanent damage to my vocal chords. I was ecstatic when I woke up and could talk just fine. I healed fast.

Three months later, while co-chairing a business conference in Boston, I started to get what I thought was laryngitis. Never had it before, but was familiar with sounds - or lack thereof - of it. It didn’t clear. In fact my voice became weaker . I was told I had acid reflux (AR as I’ve come to learn it’s called) and that a lot of my larynx was burned out. After remedies for AR, which often develops after being aspirated in surgery (another piece of new found knowledge) didn’t make a difference, I eventually found myself in the hands of a renown otolaryngologist in Boston, Steven Zeitels.

My condition in lay terms was - and remains, a semi paralyzed left vocal chord. From where it came, nobody really knows. The most frequent explanation given to me by doctors is that it came from a virus, many admitting that this is a “default” view when no other explanation can be found. The prognosis was hardly conclusive either. I was told that sometimes a damaged chord will recover spontaneously, sometimes gradually over time. More often, it never comes back. There was a “procedure” however - so again, not to worry.

This so called procedure, nonetheless, is quite invasive one. Surgery is surgery. I decided to wait, sought out other opinions and alternative therapies. Lots of them. I knew the medical reason for my debilitated chord was only one side of the equation. I sensed that I shouldn’t rush into a quick fix… that I needed to pay real attention. I chose to look at my condition as a teacher, even as a gift, as hard as that was some days.

I’ve been reflecting on what the messages could be – the gifts. Three keep floating across my screen: The first is simply to slow down, speak less and hear more. The second is to speak my truth and find the courage and admit what’s up in relationships that are shifting as hard as this news might be, and as great as the losses are. And the third is to find my voice. This one for me means to live my life fully, as intended, and keep expanding myself in whatever form it takes. Usually, for me, this means business and commerce of some kind. It’s the way I express in the world.

I have been patient. I can speak lightly, albeit with a rasp, when the surroundings are quiet. On good days I’m told I even sound sexy! I strap on my “Chatter Box” - an amplifier that aerobics instructors sometimes use to be heard above the din of music - to function in noisier places. I manage fine. And I’ve been a pretty good sport.

I just re-scheduled myself for surgery, having cancelled it three times before. It’s for September 6th, the day after Labor Day, a fitting day it seems. It will have been close to a year by then. It feels right, it’s time for some help and I’m ready to find my voice.