(no subject)

[bzarcher]

So, to help correct his sleep apnea, my dad had his Uvula, tonsils, and a portion of his soft palette removed today.

According to mom at 2pm, he was doing fine, though she hadn't gotten to speak with the surgeon yet to find out if speech therapy will be required (all depends on how much of the palette was damaged and had to be removed), but that he'd be kept overnight for observation.

By a nice coincidence, she parked in the garage that Lisa tends for the medical centre, so even though I haven't gotten more updates on his condition, I know that Mom went home to go get some sleep at 9:55 tonight, so I know that means he must be doing OK and sleeping comfortably, or she'd not have left.

I'm kinda curious what he's going to be like when he's back from the hospital - and not just in the sense of "Hey, I wonder if getting enough oxygen at night will make him less irritable all the time". One of the potential outcomes is that his voice may end up permanently altered. Dad described it on Monday as, "Slightly less irritating than Fran Drescher - at best." Admittedly, that'd only be if they have to remove more than 50% of the pallete, but I'm still a little worried for him. I think that's why, when we needed to put an extra table together for christmas dinner, he and I ate together there. We're not exactly good at this Father/Son thing, but we do have a few tricks.

I know a few people (dasubergeek, for one, and some people I did choirs with) who have had to deal with the voice they had always known being changed into something different - but they at least had the "advantage" of it happening at a relatively early point in their lives.

Dad is closer to 60 than 50, and doesn't have much in the way of friends that he can lean on outside of a few shooting buddies and some people at church - most of whom are in the choir. I worry that if he has to deal with this, he won't be comfortable reaching out to them because of the pain that losing the ability to sing (also distinctly possible) is likely to have on him.

I didn't even know how much this was bothering me, how much I was worrying, until I sat down to write that he was apparently doing OK.

But I guess I don't entirely know that, yet.

Not until I hear my father's voice again.

Comments

[dklegman.livejournal.com]

I hope everything goes well. If you need anything from my end of things, holler.

[bzarcher.livejournal.com]

Will do.

[ardaniel]

As someone who lost a chunk of my vision at 25, I can assure you that there is no advantage whatsoever to any sort of traumatic damage to your sensory or expressive capabilities at *any* age.

[bzarcher.livejournal.com]

You're right - I'm sorry.

[dasubergeek.livejournal.com]

Well, let me start by saying that as recently as two years ago I'd have let you have it with both barrels for posting your bullshit assertion that it's somehow better for this to happen to you at the age of 20 as opposed to the age of 57 or whatever. Five years ago I'd have let you have it for posting my personal issues for your entire friendslist to see. Fortunately I've made my peace -- mostly -- with my lot in life.

Let me next say that I completely, totally empathise with your father. It sucks. It's a big fucking question mark that doesn't get answered even when the operation happens -- it can take years. My own voice has done two major bitflips in ten years. It sucks, and if my own case is at all typical, he may be a complete jackass to everyone around him. I had <LJ USER="revkrislc" by the throat against the wall of the kitchen in our apartment one night before I came to my senses. This is a guy who is my brother, whose parents stood in the doctor's offices when my parents were 1,500 miles away. He might be a total jerk to you, and it won't be anything you did. As sympathetic as you might be, and as much as you might want to help, you don't fully get it. I hope you never have to. It took me the better part of a decade to be able to cope with the fact that I couldn't sing anymore. Don't forget, I was the one who was a vocal music major at the time. I literally left from preparations for my senior recital to have this stupid surgery (which, by the way, involved only my larynx, not my uvula or my palate). I had all these grandiose plans for my voice. I have no idea if they would have worked out or not, because that choice was taken from me. I didn't talk for three months. I couldn't. Not being able to sing pales in comparison to not being able to talk. Eventually I found my voice. I hated talking. For someone who was so loquacious prior to surgery, it was a total and utter bit-flip. When I did talk I sounded like Bev Bighead from Rocko's Modern Life. Since I seem to be baring all for the entire Internet to see, remember my (locked) post about having kicked the prescription-meds abuse nine years ago? What do you think might have brought that on? I'd look in the mirror and see the gash across my throat -- and it took five years of forcing myself to touch the scar with Vitamin E before it healed enough that I didn't look like someone who'd been garotted with piano wire. The worst part is people making shitty comments about it. I can't tell you how many times, even today, I get "Oh, do you have a cold?". Assuming his voice DID change, your father may get it too. I spent the first few years having a meltdown (usually in private, or as private as I could get) every time it happened. Then I started snapping at people. It's one thing to get asked, "Oh, do you have a cold?" and say, "No, that's just my voice." It's quite a horse of another colour when they say, "Don't come near me, I don't want to get sick." ("Last I checked, laryngeal cancer isn't contagious, jackass," is one of my stock responses to that particular little poison dart) or "Jesus, what's wrong with your voice?" ("Did you mean to be so motherfucking rude, or is it just habit for you?") When I moved to L.A., I used to get "You should do voiceover work" or "Wow, your voice is really sexy" which threw me totally.

[dasubergeek.livejournal.com]

Now, enough wallowing in that self-pity bullshit. Your father is still the same person whether his voice is changed or not. I'm starting to realise at least a bit of a silver lining -- once I'm introduced to people I don't have to identify myself on voicemail. "Hi, it's me, I need the results of the query you're doing for me."

I can carry a tune. I'll never be the tenor I was, but I can sing during Mass without everyone staring at me funny. Your father's musical ability and sense of pitch aren't tied to his voice. It's a two-edged sword -- I can carry a tune, but I couldn't sing for the longest time until I trained my "new" voice, because it was so off-key that it set my nerves on edge.

I'm not going to say some stupid bullshit typical response like "if your father's friends can't be friends without his being able to sing, he needs new friends" or some such bollocks like that. It may be painful for him to associate with them. I will say that if they ARE his friends they'll be understanding of it and come seeking him if he starts to isolate himself.

It sucks to say that it could be worse -- but honestly, there are worse things in life than sounding like Fran Drescher. Cold comfort at best, but I say this from the vantage point of nearly ten years of having to deal with it. Adapt or perish... it doesn't matter whether you're 20 or 60.

I hope this discussion has all been moot and that, alevai, everything is fine with your father. I wouldn't wish what happened to me on my worst enemy, God forbid. But do try and avoid hurtful, blanket assertions about things you don't fully grasp, OK?

[bzarcher.livejournal.com]

I'll do my best.

I'm sorry. A lot of this just started coming out last night without really thinking about it - I really only meant to post that he was out of surgery, and then I couldn't stop.

[yukon-jack.livejournal.com]

Good wishes on this, brother, I'm glad to hear he's at least doing okay so far.

[bzarcher.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Hopefully I'll hear something today.