A Quiet Soul

How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul! The intellect of man sits enthroned visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only, as God revealed himself to the prophet of old, in "the still, small voice," and in a voice from the burning bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain, invisible to man!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet and educator (1807-1882)

Hello? Anyone there? I'm still here . . . albeit much more quiet than usual. I'm not talking much these days. When I do, Cat looks up quizzically as if to say, "What was that?"

A week ago a good surgeon performed a 'thyroplasty' in an attempt to restore my voice, which had become reduced to a whisper thanks to a complication of thyroid surgery. By propping up the paralyzed vocal chord with one (or was it two?) stent(s), it's hoped that I'll talk again. Actually, the problem wasn't talking; the problem was hearing me. It's been rather frustrating.

I haven't yet tried out the new voice. It's still 'in progress' -- as Cat can attest -- and it could take weeks to develop to its maximum capacity. I must be patient. Unfortunately, patience is not one of my virtues. I am, however, hopeful.

What with the scar across my neck and the associated swelling that would be attractive to a bull moose,  I haven't ventured out much -- hence the lack of content for blog posts.

But I am here!