Part 81 Vocals


Dr. Co- has found a nodule on my vocal cord that was not there before. It could have been caused by the pipe placed in my esophagus during a dilation, or an irritation from the stent that currently resides there. It is probably nothing, but she refers me to a specialist to have it examined further.

We travel to Dr. Be-’s office, located on the edge of the medical center and in a complex that apparently caters primarily to pregnant women. I feel odd walking around here surrounded by all these women who look like they could give birth any instant, and wonder if I have come to the wrong place. Dr. Be- is a larynx specialist, and in her office I see many music posters and realize many singers must be seeking her services. She examines me and determines, to my great relief, that the nodule is probably just a minor irritation from my esophageal treatment. A few liquid meds taken for a short time should resolve the problem.

For the next few days I experiment with eating different foods. The spaghetti with spinach and cheese sauce tastes good, and along with a tomato/avocado salad goes down well. But fish sticks and fries on another night don’t work.

I am battling big time with queasiness and occasional retching. Going out anywhere is risky, and I am apprehensive leaving the house for any amount of time. I return on one occasion from taking the kids to gymnastics and begin throwing up.

In the early morning one Tuesday I suffer much pain. I have been alternating Hydrocodone with Percocet for the past few days to combat the discomfort, with little success. The following night is rough again, with little relief from the pain even when taking the pills. I get out of bed and immediately retch from pain. I struggle to get ready for work, and feel terrible when I get there. I have an evaluation of a student which is due very soon, though, so I pull the student in at about 9:30 to test. I manage to get through it before leaving for home around 11:00. I stay home the rest of the day, sleeping some, but often simply turning over in bed and ruminating on how miserable I feel. I’m up at 3:00 again, retching.

Becah suggests I remove the pain patch that I have been wearing for a week, fearing that it may be contributing to the nausea. I begin taking Phenergan, an anti-nausea med, in the afternoon hoping it will help. That evening, I begin my routine of setting my alarm every three and one-half hours to wake up and take a pain pill before my previous pill expires and the pain kicks back in. I am of course exhausted by this erratic sleep pattern, but being tired is better than hurting.