Regaining Hope

Oh, this one's a doozy. I'm going to put a warning out there that this contains graphic medical content, so if that ain't your jam, feel free to click away. I know that medical talk isn't for everyone.

That being said, I decided to get a second opinion on my vocal cord paralysis. I decided that I'm not going to accept that nothing can be done until at least two medical professionals have told me so.

When your vocal cord has been stunned, if it hasn't recovered after a year, it's basically impossible that it's ever going to. What has this resulted in? Neverending fatigue because I'm constantly leaking oxygen and also my version of talking normally is about 70% of the average human, so having to constantly feel like I'm yelling and also the mental load of -constantly- having to repeat myself. Also, having to be mindful of where I go out to eat because loud restaurants are a big no-no. Not that I particularly enjoy loud restaurants, but still. Some restaurants are unexpectedly loud and it's difficult to deal with. I also talk a lot less than I used to. This is difficult because I literally talk to people for a living. My voice is shot by the end of the day, and it's annoying and difficult. The fatigue isn't as bad as it used to be, but it's still there.

In December of 2022, I had a filler injection in my paralyzed vocal cord. Basically what this does is beefs up the vocal cord so the other has something to vibrate against. I then promptly got influenza and lost my voice for almost a month (which is another fun thing about having a paralyzed vocal cord - if you lose your voice, it can take LITERAL MONTHS to get it back), and the injection only lasts three months. There was some good stuff that came out of that (like the injection actually repositioned my vocal cord so that it was closer to where it needed to be), so even though the injection lasted three months, my voice ultimately got better in the long term, so I wanted to look at more permanent solutions. My ENT referred me to Mass Eye and Ear to talk about that more. Cool.

I saw this dude twice. Both times he said that I waited too long to address it (which I didn't - it took eight months just to get an appointment), so there was nothing to be done. So I sighed and went on with my life.

Somewhere along the way, a couple of months ago, I said to myself that that ABSOLUTELY CANNOT be the final answer. SO! I asked my PCP for a referral to get a second opinion. Did you know that Mass General has a voice clinic? They sure do! They have doctors that specialize in EXACTLY WHAT I AM GOING THROUGH. They have the swankiest waiting room I've ever seen, and they treat people like Adele, Bjork, I think they treated Mick Jagger, Julie Andrews, a whole bunch of famous people. If you're having voice issues, this is clearly -the place- that people go. It was pretty neat to look at all of the pictures.

Ok. So. I had this appointment yesterday. I'm not sure if y'all know how it works when someone looks at your vocal cords, but it's done one of two ways:

1. They numb your nose and your sinuses and stick a camera up your nose and down your throat until they get to your vocal cord, have you sing "EEEEEE" or "AAAAAAA" or "OOOOOOO" in different pitches and as loud as you can and take a look, take some pictures, and talk to you about it.

2. They numb your throat (and that sensation of not being able to swallow is...yikes, and also the numbing stuff tastes disgusting.), stick the camera in your mouth and down your throat, it's like a strobe light thing, grab your tongue and yank it out of your mouth as far as they can, they take a video, have you sing "EEEEEEE" at different pitches again as loud as you can, and they talk to you about it. It was just about the coolest imaging of any of my bodily functions that I've ever seen.

I had the second one for the first time yesterday and it was a TRIP. I usually have the first one. The numbness lasts about three hours either way, and as it goes away, I have the sneezing fit to end all sneezing fits and then I'm fine.

Basically the end result is this: There's hope.

THERE'S HOPE.

I have to fight with Anthem a little bit to get it covered, but as soon as that goes through, I'm going down to Boston to get another injection. What's super weird is that for the first one, they put me out for it. This time, this doctor won't be doing that. I'll literally be able to drive home from it. Weird, right? Super weird. Then if that works as we hope it will, a more permanent solution will be that I'll get a tiny bit of liposuction in my abdomen and he'll take that fat and put it into my vocal cord. That's obviously a surgical procedure, which is fine, but if I'm able to do this, then I'll be able to get close to 100% vocal function permanently.

PERMANENTLY.

You know how something resolves itself and you feel WAY more relieved than you expected to? This is one of those times for me. I wasn't even aware of how hopeless I was feeling about this until this appointment was done. To have my hope restored in this way and have a possible solution to a problem that has had a really significant negative impact on my life for the past three and a half years with no path forward, well, that's going to be a game-changer.

I'm so excited that I don't even know what to do with myself. I'll be planning out my belt-it-out-in-the-car playlist for the next few weeks, so suggestions are welcome! :D

FODMAPS Foibles Part One

Well, the holidays are finally done.

During that time, I found out that I don't actually have celiac. The test came back absolutely, without a doubt, negative. I was at a training when my results came in, and it was about 10 minutes before lunch, and so you know what I did? I had a huge sandwich with regular bread. I stuffed my face with so much pasta salad that I didn't even know what to do with myself. I was also left with the question, though: If it's not celiac, what the hell is it? Guess we're going to find out when low-FODMAPS starts.

Quite possibly the worst time of year to make the transition to any new diet is the holidays. So, in early December, when my doctor said to switch to low-FODMAPS, I was like "Ok. So early January, then." She laughed and was like "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Cool. Glad we're on the same page about this, doc. That being said, I did make some changes this year that I think will make this transition easier. Anyone who knows how much I love candy canes will be flabbergasted by this.

I had one miniature candy cane on New Year's Eve and that was the grand total of candy canes that I had all season. UNBELIEVABLE. There is not a single candy cane in my house right now. I'm usually eating them until at least March.

I was determined not to switch to low-FODMAPS on January 1. I'm not sure how my deep-seated hatred of New Year's resolutions came about, but it exists and I will not apologize for it. I will not ever make any changes, ever, on January 1. I simply outright refuse.

I allowed myself the space to eat as much gluten as possible during the holidays, knowing that I had to go back to being gluten-free for this diet. Did I make up for the five and a half years that I didn't eat it? No. But I did have a cookie party, lots of lasagna, and bagels every damn day. Also an entire bottle of lactaid pills in two weeks. That's how much dairy I ate. I now know unequivocally that dairy is a problem. There are lots of alternatives, so I'm going to try out every single one that I can. (Actively looking for dairy-free cheese that doesn't taste like shards of cardboard. No luck yet.)

January 2, there we went. I made my coffee with FODMAPS-friendly creamer, put in a lil maple syrup, grabbed my low-FODMAPS freezer meals, and off to work I went. I had this blueberry-almond-rice porridge and it was pretty fantastic. Then I had this disgusting maple chicken for lunch (which looked so promising in its packaging! I was so disappointed!), and then I had this pot roast stuff for dinner.

Frozen meal deliveries are how I'm going to get through the majority of the first week or two of this, because I am still trying to figure out what I'm doing. I've figured out the cereals I can eat, I've figured out that there's a brand of food specifically for low-FODMAPS peeps, and so I'm going for it. I tried their marinara yesterday and while I appreciate the effort, marinara sauce without onions and garlic is an abomination. It was disgusting. I'll finish it and I'm sure I'll get used to eating without onions or garlic, and this is only temporary, but still.

The big winner yesterday was the overnight oats. Now that I can eat oatmeal again, I'm diving in head first to all of it. I've figured out some important stuff about what I can and can't eat, so I feel ready.

After doing a little low-FODMAPS last week, just to dip my feet in, and something interesting happened.

I lost an entire pant size in two days. I literally went from my pants being snug to being able to pull them off without unbuttoning them. Apparently, yes, inflammation from IBS CAN be that bad. I'm very interested to see what will happen over the next couple of weeks. My gut is...very mad. It'll get better and I'm told this is part of beginning low-FODMAPS, but man. I'd like to get through this part as quickly as possible, please and thank you.

The most important thing, though? My shit is -back together-. I've had a little brain fog when I eat something I shouldn't, but other than that, it's GONE. I can figure things out. I can remember stuff. I can actually do the things I need to do without becoming overwhelmed. This is the most functional I've been cognitively in years. 

I'm trying hard not to be angry about this because I've been really struggling with the brain fog part since my surgeries. If someone had just told me "Hey, it's probably food intolerances, let's do low-FODMAPS and see what happens", I would 100% have been on board. I also know that trauma of any kind, which includes medical trauma, can trigger or exacerbate IBS. I think what happened was that my gut was already simmering in 2021 and had been for literal decades. Add medical procedures and bodily trauma, no change in diet, and BAM. My gut had the temper tantrums to end all temper tantrums.

I'm sure the anger will dissipate once I've discovered what my triggers are and start to consistently feel better. It's already starting to happen. Just having answers is comforting, even if it means big changes. I am also feeling less anxious in general, so I think this is actually going to be a game-changer for both my physical and mental health. I talk about basic self-care with my clients all the time, and this is part of it. I'm pretty excited.