Vocal Cords

Today I see the throat specialist to follow up on my damaged vocal cords. Last time they scoped my throat and I watched in fascination as my vocal cords, in real time color, wiggled and wobbled on the screen in front of my chair.

As wonderful as that was, I am in no mood today to undergo the necessary numbing and probing. I am still in my "leave me alone" mode. A new doctor examines me, trying to get up to speed about why I am here and just what it is we are checking on. I am less than forthcoming. He peers into my mouth, pressing my tongue with his wooden stick, shining the light about as if spelunking.

Those nasty metal splicers are stuck in my nostrils as he examines my interior as far as possible without climbing down my throat. He gently massages my neck with his fingers, probing for lumps and unusual structures.

Everything is normal. Nothing would make him think there would be anything out of the ordinary here. He sits in front of me and places a hand on my chart. Without looking into my eyes, he tells me that I have the option of refusing to be scoped. Since I myself have observed an improvement in my singing, and if I am content to leave well enough alone, then by all means, I can let the doctor know that I would prefer not to do anything invasive today.

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye to see how I am responding. I get the distinct impression that this is not protocol. He is going out on a bit of a limb here. I take the suggestion and say I would prefer not to do the scope. Lunch sounds like a better deal to me. He jumps up and says he will now get the regular doctor.

A familiar face enters, goes through all the same motions as the intern, says everything looks good. He mumbles over the part where he sees no real need to do the scope. It would be interesting, of course, but he doesn't think its fully necessary. We agree to meet again in 6 months for a final assessment. If I get into trouble, I can always come back. If in 6 months I have my full range of voice back, I can cancel the appointment.

I thank them both, my eyes especially thanking the intern. What a relief! A small slice of freedom. Freedom to be a person and not a medical history, not a lab rat. I like it. I sing on the way back to work.