Gee whiz...almost a whole month since my last posting....must have been that sinus surgery that got in the way....

Let's see, good news first? Or truth first?  Let's go with good news. For all intents and purposes, I believe the surgery was a success.  I would say I have 95% of my voice back.  The remaining 5% probably needs to be coaxed back, after being frightened into submission.  I'm still gun-shy about returning to any kind of official singing engagements, so I've confined my attempts to the car, the shower, and the daily walk.  To say that this is a huge relief doesn't come anywhere close to doing it justice. The terrifying fear that I might never sing normally again had me in its clutches, and I'm happy to say that it has now let go.

OK, now the truth.  Not that any of that was untrue, but there is more to it than that. God love Dr. Wonderful; he is a confident, able technician; witty, charming, and fascinating to talk to.  But the man has no concept of pain. Or, in fairness, he has a completely different definition of pain than I do.  Had I known what I was in for, I would never have agreed to the outpatient procedure as he envisioned it.  I mean, a colonoscopy is an outpatient procedure, and they tell you you're "awake", but I can tell you I am no more awake than I was during a very different, totally inpatient procedure. So when he said I'd be "awake", I'm thinking in terms of my definition (i.e., colonscopy) and he's thinking of HIS definition (Katie Couric giving a step-by-step narrative of the procedure). 

In retrospect, I should have called a halt at the first zip of the laser (which I did not realize included an electrical current).  Immediately, I asked him (because this was all done via nasal passages, not mouth) if that was perhaps the smell of burning flesh that I detected....his response was, "Oh, sorry, yeah, I"ll try to be better about vacuuming up the smoke".... Why in God's name was that not enough to send me screaming from the room?  Because I'm in many respects a weenie....can't stand to admit that I can't handle it, can't take it, need a break, or some help, or some more anesthesia.  Speaking of which, that "awake" thing?  What that means is, you only get topical anesthesia - in this case, lidocaine.  Hell's bells, I get more than that when I go to the damned dentist!

And the laser machine itself.....for those of you old enough to remember The Jetsons, this thing reminded me of the maid, without a head.  About that high, same shape....but this thing began to malfunction about two-thirds of the way through the procedure.  Despite my warning at the beginning that I did NOT want to hear him say anything close to "Oops" or "Uh-oh", he pitched a small hissy fit because the manufacturer had just replaced the whole damn motherboard last week.  Well, happy to hear that, but I don't care - as the guy on SNL used to say on the news, "JUST FIX IT!" 

I kept thinking, it's almost over, I can do this, we're almost done....which he kept saying to me....but the truth is that the whole thing took almost two hours. At which point, I got up, walked to the waiting room where Tim was sitting. His back was toward me, so when I tapped him on the shoulder, He just about hit the ceiling - "Whaaa - are you done? Are you OK? You're standing up - is everything all right?" And all I said was, "Take.....me.....home.....NOW!" 

None of this is dramatization, but really, it was OK. Not something I'm eager to repeat, by a longshot, but it solved my problem, I'm pretty sure. And if it didn't, and needs to be fine-tuned, you can be damned sure it will be under conscious sedation the next time. So, thanks Dr. J, you're a great guy, but if I ever run into you in a dark alley, you're toast.....