Results of the Biopsy
I saw my ENT on Friday, to get the results from the biopsy.
He examined my vocal cords again, and this time he pushed so hard with the camera that my gag reflex kept trying to kick in. Julie got a stack of paper towels ready, just in case.
The lab report kept using terms like "necrotic lymph node", which I found worrisome, but the doctor is convinced that I have a bronchial cleft cyst, and wants an MRI to map it out in preparation for surgery. If the cyst drains completely, it is hard to find, and the MRI will tell him whether there are little tubules off of it, connecting it to my sinuses and throat (or 'wrapping around nerves", which I didn't find pleasing either).
I was told to stop whispering, and to try to use my voice. It turns out that whispering puts more stress on the vocal cords than trying to talk.
One of the other senior engineers at work decided that I sounded like Froggy from the old 'Our Gang' shorts. I always liked Froggy as a kid.
I was also given a five page list of dos and don'ts for oral hygine. It included things like not singing in a way that would strain my voice, so no more "Lion Sleeps Tonight", "The Star Spangled Banner", or anything sung by Getty Lee of Rush.
I am, however, uniquely situated to sing anything by Rod Stewart. That would be okay.
I'm not allowed to do any public speaking without a microphone, or speak until the end of a breath. Whispering is not allowed, nor is trying to force extra air into the lungs by expanding the muscles around the ribs to try to speak longer or louder.
The most hurtful thing is that I'm not allowed to do sound effects with my voice. Sound effects are the spice of life; they are punctuation, and just being able to make them makes living better.
My MRI of the soft tissues of the neck is scheduled for Friday, with and without Gad (whatever that is.) It is supposed to require an hour for the scan.
He examined my vocal cords again, and this time he pushed so hard with the camera that my gag reflex kept trying to kick in. Julie got a stack of paper towels ready, just in case.
The lab report kept using terms like "necrotic lymph node", which I found worrisome, but the doctor is convinced that I have a bronchial cleft cyst, and wants an MRI to map it out in preparation for surgery. If the cyst drains completely, it is hard to find, and the MRI will tell him whether there are little tubules off of it, connecting it to my sinuses and throat (or 'wrapping around nerves", which I didn't find pleasing either).
I was told to stop whispering, and to try to use my voice. It turns out that whispering puts more stress on the vocal cords than trying to talk.
One of the other senior engineers at work decided that I sounded like Froggy from the old 'Our Gang' shorts. I always liked Froggy as a kid.
I was also given a five page list of dos and don'ts for oral hygine. It included things like not singing in a way that would strain my voice, so no more "Lion Sleeps Tonight", "The Star Spangled Banner", or anything sung by Getty Lee of Rush.
I am, however, uniquely situated to sing anything by Rod Stewart. That would be okay.
I'm not allowed to do any public speaking without a microphone, or speak until the end of a breath. Whispering is not allowed, nor is trying to force extra air into the lungs by expanding the muscles around the ribs to try to speak longer or louder.
The most hurtful thing is that I'm not allowed to do sound effects with my voice. Sound effects are the spice of life; they are punctuation, and just being able to make them makes living better.
My MRI of the soft tissues of the neck is scheduled for Friday, with and without Gad (whatever that is.) It is supposed to require an hour for the scan.
posted by SquidgePa at 10:20 AM
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