Remember when I was told I'd really let myself go at the gym? Remember all the lessons I learned?
I did learn those lessons. I did feel them.
But I'd be lying if I said that man's words don't still haunt me every time I step into the gym. I've lied many times when someone asks me if it bothers me when I see him and I respond that it doesn't. I've lied to that man when I avoid his gaze instead of talking with him. I should explain to him that I'm not avoiding him to treat him with cruelty, but I'm avoiding him because I am afraid of what he will say. I'd be lying if I said I have never looked in the mirror and thought, "Man, I can't go to the gym when so-and-so will be there because he'll see how much I've let myself go."
Truth is, I have gained a little bit of weight (not a lot, but enough to make me uncomfortable) trying to figure out my new eating regime with the medication I'm on to try and heal my Laryngopharyngeal Reflux. The medication makes my belly ache a lot, and I haven't learned to distinguish between hunger and ache if that make sense. I haven't "let myself go," but I have had to learn to let go of myself. I've had to let go of my pride so I can get my health in order outside of physical fitness.
I don't like the way I feel right now. I am determined to change it. I am grateful that after only two months I am able to gather the energy it will take to be my best self even if it is more of a challenge while my reflux damage is healing (side effects make my joints and muscles rather achy rather quickly, my head achy, and I'm exhausted all.the.time).
While I am figuring my new routine out, the last thing I should be doing is worrying about what other people are thinking of my current state of fitness. I want to shout to the world about why I am currently a little off, which I guess I'm doing by blogging about it. But I can't literally shout it to everyone. And I'm embarrassed. I know I shouldn't be, but that doesn't stop the way I feel. No one can see what I'm going through inside mentally and physically, yet everyone can see my muffin top doth overfloweth.
This experience is giving me a little perspective I've never had before. I don't have any words of wisdom or cutesy things to say about what we/I should learn from this. Maybe I will eventually, but right now all I've got to say is, "I'm trying," and, "I will be honest...to myself and to you." I let this thing control me for a little while. No more. I'm taking the reigns.
Showing posts with label Laryngopharyngeal Reflux. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Laryngopharyngeal Reflux. Show all posts
Friday, May 17, 2013
Monday, March 4, 2013
My Diagnosis
Over the past two years, many of you have asked me, "Why aren't you doing shows anymore?"
Many of you have come to your own conclusions. I have told many of you that I felt a sense of closure and I wanted to concentrate more on my personal relationships. While both of these things are true, there is a third item that I hadn't mentioned except to a few of you in personal, one-on-one conversations.
I have been in pain for almost two years. My throat, when I sang, would feel as if I had razor blades slicing up and down my vocal chord area. No home remedy I tried eased the pain...nothing worked except for not using my singing voice. Because the most severe pain directly coincided with a show I was doing where I'd speak like a boy one moment, then belt out D's the next, I was petrified I had nodes.
You've all seen Pitch Perfect (and if you haven't, you need to). While they make light of "living with nodes," the truth is they are no laughing matter. Most singers lose their chutzpah after being treated. Some are even told they will never sing again.
Can you imagine being told you will never again do the thing you have loved to do most your entire life? Can you imagine losing the one thing that has always made you feel safe? Can you imagine losing the one way you feel you can truly express your deepest emotions?
Even though I'm merely an amateur community-theater show-tune lover, the thought broke my heart. The thought lead me to many nights secretly shedding tears, pretending to others like my plight was no big deal. Excuse after excuse spewed forth from my mouth instead of music. Seeing the doctor meant I might hear words that would drop my glass heart from a skyscraper and shatter all of my dreams. For two years, I have repeated these words in my nightmares, "You will never sing again. You will never sing again. You will never sing again."
Recently, I was asked to be a part of Nunsense - A Musical. I defied my fears, yet with each rehearsal the pain once again sliced me with razor edges. I'd often feel, "My voice is too tired to talk," accompanied with the thought, "You are an idiot - you could be causing more damage."
As happens in life, whether emotional, spiritual, or physical, sometimes the pain becomes too much to stand another day without seeking a solution.
I made an appointment with a doctor I felt drawn to for some inexplicable reason. Immediately, my fear became excitement...excitement that I would finally know what had been inflicting me for so long.
After making the appointment, I found old e-mails from musically-gifted friends who had had nodes, referring me to this doctor. At the appointment, I ran into an old friend who, unbeknownst to me, is a doctor at that facility. All of these things continued to make me feel at ease.
Have you ever had your throat scoped? Incredibly cool and incredibly uncomfortable. True to my tough-girl form, I only gagged once!
The doctor quickly calmed my fears, "Well, you aren't Adele!" No nodes!
But what the heck was wrong with me then?
"See that redness, swelling, and generally raw-looking skin around your chords? You have Laryngopharyngeal Reflux."
Folks, I've never had heartburn a day in my life. I was baffled. Doc let me know he refers to my condition as "singer's reflux", or "silent reflux," because he finds it most often in singers and we don't have any other symptoms aside from throat pain and hoarseness. The only treatment is to follow a rather stringent list of dietary rules, sleeping-position rules, and to take medication every morning and every night. These treatments may not be things I have to do forever, but at least for the next few months.
The best news I could have ever imagined hearing from the doctor (who was so sweet and almost as excited as I was)?
"Yes! You are free to sing! Within three weeks, you should be pain-free!"
I'm not comfortable with the idea of having a "disease." I'm the healthy girl, right? The one who always marks the box, "Not taking any medications." The one who goes to the gym every day. The one who carries bananas and fiber-protein bars in her purse as snacks. The one who only gets legitly sick maybe once every two years. Now I have to put two real pills in my vitamin containers? Not my idea of fun.
But you know what is my idea of fun? Singing at the top of my lungs, unreserved, unabashed, and FREE!
Many of you have come to your own conclusions. I have told many of you that I felt a sense of closure and I wanted to concentrate more on my personal relationships. While both of these things are true, there is a third item that I hadn't mentioned except to a few of you in personal, one-on-one conversations.
I have been in pain for almost two years. My throat, when I sang, would feel as if I had razor blades slicing up and down my vocal chord area. No home remedy I tried eased the pain...nothing worked except for not using my singing voice. Because the most severe pain directly coincided with a show I was doing where I'd speak like a boy one moment, then belt out D's the next, I was petrified I had nodes.
You've all seen Pitch Perfect (and if you haven't, you need to). While they make light of "living with nodes," the truth is they are no laughing matter. Most singers lose their chutzpah after being treated. Some are even told they will never sing again.
Can you imagine being told you will never again do the thing you have loved to do most your entire life? Can you imagine losing the one thing that has always made you feel safe? Can you imagine losing the one way you feel you can truly express your deepest emotions?
Even though I'm merely an amateur community-theater show-tune lover, the thought broke my heart. The thought lead me to many nights secretly shedding tears, pretending to others like my plight was no big deal. Excuse after excuse spewed forth from my mouth instead of music. Seeing the doctor meant I might hear words that would drop my glass heart from a skyscraper and shatter all of my dreams. For two years, I have repeated these words in my nightmares, "You will never sing again. You will never sing again. You will never sing again."
Recently, I was asked to be a part of Nunsense - A Musical. I defied my fears, yet with each rehearsal the pain once again sliced me with razor edges. I'd often feel, "My voice is too tired to talk," accompanied with the thought, "You are an idiot - you could be causing more damage."
As happens in life, whether emotional, spiritual, or physical, sometimes the pain becomes too much to stand another day without seeking a solution.
I made an appointment with a doctor I felt drawn to for some inexplicable reason. Immediately, my fear became excitement...excitement that I would finally know what had been inflicting me for so long.
After making the appointment, I found old e-mails from musically-gifted friends who had had nodes, referring me to this doctor. At the appointment, I ran into an old friend who, unbeknownst to me, is a doctor at that facility. All of these things continued to make me feel at ease.
Have you ever had your throat scoped? Incredibly cool and incredibly uncomfortable. True to my tough-girl form, I only gagged once!
The doctor quickly calmed my fears, "Well, you aren't Adele!" No nodes!
But what the heck was wrong with me then?
"See that redness, swelling, and generally raw-looking skin around your chords? You have Laryngopharyngeal Reflux."
Folks, I've never had heartburn a day in my life. I was baffled. Doc let me know he refers to my condition as "singer's reflux", or "silent reflux," because he finds it most often in singers and we don't have any other symptoms aside from throat pain and hoarseness. The only treatment is to follow a rather stringent list of dietary rules, sleeping-position rules, and to take medication every morning and every night. These treatments may not be things I have to do forever, but at least for the next few months.
The best news I could have ever imagined hearing from the doctor (who was so sweet and almost as excited as I was)?
"Yes! You are free to sing! Within three weeks, you should be pain-free!"
I'm not comfortable with the idea of having a "disease." I'm the healthy girl, right? The one who always marks the box, "Not taking any medications." The one who goes to the gym every day. The one who carries bananas and fiber-protein bars in her purse as snacks. The one who only gets legitly sick maybe once every two years. Now I have to put two real pills in my vitamin containers? Not my idea of fun.
But you know what is my idea of fun? Singing at the top of my lungs, unreserved, unabashed, and FREE!
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