It's been over two months since I had snurgery to fix my singing voice. Yes, I know that the word is not snurgery. It's just one of those words that I've changed for my own amusement, like Shnabbos and Shnirts. Also all the "pin" words which have already been discussed in a previous post. So the snurgery was on November 8th and I don't think it helped. The truth is Dr. Woo told me before the procedure that there was only a 50-50 chance that it would help, so I guess I can't complain. I had that post a while back where I complained about all the sputum I was dealing with ("I Art Phlegming, Novemeber 24th), but that problem has cleared up to some extent. And not a moment to soon, I might add; I was beginning to feel like my father. I remember very vividly the handkerchief he wore around his neck on Shabbos (so he wouldn't be carrying) and used to hack loogies into. Then, when I came into shul, all dirty and sweaty from a game of slap-ball in the yard (we used a few ABC vending cups inside each other and squished together to make something resembling an orb), he would take that very, loogie-laden handkerchief, moisten it with some daddy spit, and clean my face with it. Hell, at least when mommy cats do that, they use their tongue, so there's no transfer of cat phlegm going on. I remember going back outside with the smell of my father's saliva on my face. How gross is that? Today he'd probably be arrested for child abuse. Somehow I grew up reasonably sane. Right? And who invented the handkerchief, anyway? Somehow the whole concept of blowing your nose into a little piece of cloth and then carrying your boogers around with you in your pocket for the rest of the day doesn't seem very appetizing. Or sanitary, for that matter. Thank G-d for Kleenex! So my phlegming has gotten better, but I still don't know about my pipes. Chayie says (my sister always has an opinion. About everything.) that it serves me right, since I never should have subjected myself to elective snurgery for the frivolous reason of getting my singing voice back. I understand her position, but she's not me...she can't possibly know how I feel, knowing that there's a real possibility that I won't ever be able to sing again, at least not to my own satisfaction. I have a friend (who shall remain nameless here) who is going through pretty much the same thing. He has some sort of nerve paralysis in his vocal cords, and consequently can speak, but not sing. He too has been to see Dr. Woo, to no avail. Personally, I never thought he was much of a singer anyway, but, like my sister's aforementioned opinion, mine doesn't count for a hill of beans here. If he fancies himself as the world's next Pavorotti, who am I to tell him that he needs a reality check? But the real point here is the sadness on his face when he told me about it; it was like he had just lost his best friend, or run over his new puppy, or...well...you get the idea. If you haven't been there, you can't possibly identify with the feeling. I have an appointment with the illustrious Dr. Woo later today. we'll see what he says about my prognosis. So I guess this will be continued.
It's been over two months since I had snurgery to fix my singing voice. Yes, I know that the word is not snurgery. It's just one of those words that I've changed for my own amusement, like Shnabbos and Shnirts. Also all the "pin" words which have already been discussed in a previous post. So the snurgery was on November 8th and I don't think it helped. The truth is Dr. Woo told me before the procedure that there was only a 50-50 chance that it would help, so I guess I can't complain. I had that post a while back where I complained about all the sputum I was dealing with ("I Art Phlegming, Novemeber 24th), but that problem has cleared up to some extent. And not a moment to soon, I might add; I was beginning to feel like my father. I remember very vividly the handkerchief he wore around his neck on Shabbos (so he wouldn't be carrying) and used to hack loogies into. Then, when I came into shul, all dirty and sweaty from a game of slap-ball in the yard (we used a few ABC vending cups inside each other and squished together to make something resembling an orb), he would take that very, loogie-laden handkerchief, moisten it with some daddy spit, and clean my face with it. Hell, at least when mommy cats do that, they use their tongue, so there's no transfer of cat phlegm going on. I remember going back outside with the smell of my father's saliva on my face. How gross is that? Today he'd probably be arrested for child abuse. Somehow I grew up reasonably sane. Right? And who invented the handkerchief, anyway? Somehow the whole concept of blowing your nose into a little piece of cloth and then carrying your boogers around with you in your pocket for the rest of the day doesn't seem very appetizing. Or sanitary, for that matter. Thank G-d for Kleenex! So my phlegming has gotten better, but I still don't know about my pipes. Chayie says (my sister always has an opinion. About everything.) that it serves me right, since I never should have subjected myself to elective snurgery for the frivolous reason of getting my singing voice back. I understand her position, but she's not me...she can't possibly know how I feel, knowing that there's a real possibility that I won't ever be able to sing again, at least not to my own satisfaction. I have a friend (who shall remain nameless here) who is going through pretty much the same thing. He has some sort of nerve paralysis in his vocal cords, and consequently can speak, but not sing. He too has been to see Dr. Woo, to no avail. Personally, I never thought he was much of a singer anyway, but, like my sister's aforementioned opinion, mine doesn't count for a hill of beans here. If he fancies himself as the world's next Pavorotti, who am I to tell him that he needs a reality check? But the real point here is the sadness on his face when he told me about it; it was like he had just lost his best friend, or run over his new puppy, or...well...you get the idea. If you haven't been there, you can't possibly identify with the feeling. I have an appointment with the illustrious Dr. Woo later today. we'll see what he says about my prognosis. So I guess this will be continued. 
who, who, pray tell, is going to dr woo woo cuz he can't sing anymore. and don't start with hipa laws. inquiring minds need to know.
ReplyDeletePsssst...I'll give you a hint. He gave Josh Neustein his first big break!
ReplyDelete