Excerpt from my personal diary

From October3rd, 2006(about 3 and a half weeks after my damn sugery)

Letter to my voice (I still had a scratchy voice)

When will my voice come back? When? Please, voice, come back. Just the way you were-just come back so I can sing again. I don't have to sound like Aretha Franklin, I just want to sing without sounding like f-ing Peter Brady.. I just want to be able to speak without using up all my damn breathe and energy. Voice, just come back and I promise I'll never wish you sounded different. I just want to sound like me. *However, voice, if you are changing permanently, at least be sexy like Marilyn.(Monroe not Manson) But seriously voice, just come back from where ever you are. I need you.


I still don't have my old/real voice and I complain about that to anyone who'll listen at least once or twice a day. I don't sound like Peter Brady anymore and that's good. My surgeon says to wait a few more months for my nerves to repair but I'm doubtful. I should be thankful that I can speak at all. But I miss my old voice. I used to be able to change it to suit the situation.(I don't mean baby talk-I hate when couples do that-grosses me out and makes me wonder what kind of issues are really laying there under the surface-but that's a story for another day) I can't make the funny voices I used for reading stories and imitating people behind their backs. I can't make it softer for asking for favors. I can't yell at my husband and my dog. I can't scream if a psychopath tried to kidnap me. (I know,I know, this is a bit paranoid but wait til I tell ya'll about the time a creepy man scared me at the pool in my neighborhood one day)

I've been told by everyone that they don't notice the difference. But I do, I've been listening to it for 30 years, I should know. This isn't a pity party. I am very thankful for how well things turned out. I just found that page in my diary and thought it was funny. I'll try to remember the creepy man at the pool story for another day.