Sometimes, I find what I’m seeing to be beyond belief. I watch the current regime operate and it sets up an internal debate.

Can they be that inept? Could all these things they do be happening because they are hopelessly ignorant of economics? Is it possible they have all been educated by the Communist run public schools and have never take a genuine civics class? Is it possible they’ve all lost their dictionaries? Is that why the names of their bills always mean the opposite of the dictionary definitions? Take the Equality Act, for instance. How can a bill that destroys decades of progress through Title Nine action by allowing males to compete in women’s athletics be called The Equality Act.

I’m afraid my debate ended with unmistakable conclusion that they’re not destroying the United States of America by accident. They’re doing it ON PURPOSE.

I can’t take credit for this conclusion all by my self. I was watching “Cut The Crap” with Jovan Hutton Pulitzer and his guest Clare Lopez, a retired career CIA agent and a student of the human situation. She reminded me of an earlier time and suggested that we might find an explanation in a book by Skousen called “The Naked Communist.” From testimony before congress, from work by law enforcement who infliltrated the Communist Party and from the FBI’s work collecting data on the Communist Party in the United States, Skousen put together a list of 45 objectives that the Communist held near and dear to their hearts. Get the book. I found it on Amazon.com at an attractive used-book price and flipped to Chapter 13 for Clarecho’s list.

I just bought a plug-in from WordPress to insert the pdf below. Tell me if I wasted my upgrade money?

We must wake up. We’ve hidden from the truth too long.
The left has learned well and practiced frequently. What does the left practice?

IF YOU TELL A LIE OFTEN ENOUGH, PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE IT.

In the election of 1932, the Communist Party (We should know who they are by now, so why not label them accurately.) hung the Great Depression around the neck of Herbert Hoover. He didn’t deserve it. His only fault was to think like Franklin D. Roosevelt and put some stupid measures in effect after the 1929 market crash that would later be called the New Deal. That the “Blame Hoover” trick wasn’t factual made no difference. It was a phony use of words as “Build Back Better, “The Infrastructure Act,” “For the People Act,” and “The Equality Act.”

None of the above titles aimed to accomplish, as an outcome, the name of the bill. It’s as phony as Hoovervilles!

One would think that Republicans would have learned from almost a century of leftist tactics. But, we fear that the leadership of the Republican Party is oblivious. I know, it’s not their fault. Since the Hoover lies stuck, it was 15 years before congress saw Republican control. And, even then, it wasn’t real. The leadership was still brainwashed and couldn’t lead. Barry Goldwater explained it. They, in his words, were “Me, too!” Republicans. He said that a Democrat would come forth with a scheme that flew in the face of economics and constitutional principles, and Republicans would shout “Me, too!”

We must eliminate the “taking crumbs from the opposition’s table” behavior ingrained in the current leadership. The thirteen quasi Republicans who bailed out the so-called Infrastructure Bill are an example, and they need to find another line of work. Leader McConnell facilitated that bill. He needs to locate a backbone or another job.

America First is a majority movement. They are entitled to the banquet, not the other side’s crumbs. The American public is tired of having their citizenship in this greatest country in history devalued. We want to support our citizen’s jobs and families. We need to stop funding the hostility of our enemies. We need to put an end to unelected bureaucrats acting as if they have the right to legislate. We need to stop 19th-century laissez-faire being an excuse to promote global control at the expense of our nation’s welfare. We must preserve our nation’s history and learn from it. That a goodly percentage of FDR’s kitchen cabinet made a pilgrimage to Moscow for a private audience with Joseph Stalin to pay homage is a fact that probably explains why it took until Hitler forced us to re-arm to put an end to the Great Depression. We need to remember that Abraham Lincoln was a Republican president, the country’s first. He brought an end to slavery, despite the opposition of the other side. There would be no civil rights legislation if not for the Republicans in Congress in the sixties. After the Civil War, Republicans worked toward desegregating the Federal Government until the white supremacist, Woodrow Wilson, slammed the door on the blacks and re-segregated us, starting with the armed forces. Dwight Eisenhower mobilized the national guard to enforce school desegregation, despite aggressive opposition from the other side.

Republicans can fix all this if particular RINOs get out of the way. We’d prefer them to come to their senses, so we don’t have to primary them out of their office.

I’m sharing this with all good intentions and hope that people may recognize good advice contained herein, should it ever apply to them..  On Saturday, September 11th, I was headed for Bel Aire, MD and a Kiwanis Division Council meeting to see the kind people who invested their trust in me and chose me as Lt. Governor, Division Six, Capital District Kiwanis.  As I loaded Betty Olmsteads car for the trip, a large beast settled his weight on the center of my chest.  I’d read about things like this and thought, as I pulled out of the driveway and headed for I-95 S, could it be something else other than my heart?  Indigestion? Heart burn?  

I actually debated with myself about keeping my word to Division Six and doing the 100 mile trek. But, as I approached the customary construction-caused traffic jam, the Good Lord sent me a message.  There was only one lane that was moving — the exit to Delaware Avenue and the road to Wilmington Hospital.  

I shot down the exit lane, turned right on the path I’d run many a 5k, down to Lovering Avenue and the road by the river.  On the west of Wilmington Hospital, there is a cemetery (where they bury doctor’s mistakes) and when I saw the boneyard I knew I was close.

I turned right, went to 14th Street, across Washington Street into the hospital complex.  I pulled in front of the Emergency Entrance (which can be seen in Betty’s photograph of me in the helicopter) and abandoned the car, went through security with magic words “Chest Pain” and was so grateful to security who did everything they could to speed my path.  One got me a wheel chair and scooted to the sign in window.  I signed my name and heard, “Take him to room B.”  Swarmed by a bevy of nurses, I was set up for an EKG.  (I’m hairy.  Getting the pads to stick to my chest and give a good reading is not easy but they managed.”  It was 14 minutes from presenting symptoms to this point.  Remember this! I’ll be repeated.

The doctors deliberated over my EKG and one with what seemed like a bunch of authority approached me and said, “We’re transferring you to Christiana Hospital to the Cath Lab. We’re moving you to a different stretcher for the trip, taking you to the roof and putting you in the helicopter.”  (Yep, the one in the picture.)

It was my first helicopter ride and, thanks to the gentle nurse who administered three doses of Nitro, I was somewhat less in pain and was planning to enjoy the experience as much as possible.  Elevator 19 hustled me to the roof and I was wheeled inside the helicopter.  Up, up and away!  I could see the tallest buildings in Wilmington as they shot by and the Delaware River gurgling toward Delaware Bay.  Eight minutes later, I saw the top of Christiana Hospital.  We landed and I was WHISKED into the Cath Lab.  A nice nurse said to me, ”This should be pretty quick.  Don’t worry,”she continued,”It won’t be difficult on you.  I’m giving you something through your IV to make o you relax”.  I know what that means.  I’m about to become stupid, but not too much so I couldn’t observe and listen.  

“We’re going to insert the catheter through your wrist or groin, whichever is most productive.”  They used my wrist because it worked.  There was a camera and more on the catheter.  Over me was another way of watching what they were doing as x-ray devices, motorized and on tracks, danced around above me during the procedure.  I heard the cardiologist counting by twos.  I learned later that was a count to measure the expansion of the balloon to clear my 90% blockage.  I didn’t know I was also receiving two stents.  The cardiologist came back to me and looked me in the eyes.  “Does it feel better now?”  I said “Strangely enough, it does.”  And I was done.  They shipped me to Cardiac ICU for the night to keep an eye on me and the next day, they moved me up to the fourth floor to make room for a genuinely sick person.  It was my first time in ICU and it was a luxury!  Push the call button and you got a person, not a voice over an intercom.  The nursing staff that worked with me were professional, caring, empathetic and friendly.  I don’t recall meeting a nicer group of people in a shorter time, but in the ICU and later on the fourth floor.  

On the fourth floor, I had the privilege of working with Del Tech nursing students in training.  It’s obvious that the standard, already very high, might possibly be challenges when this class of students get hired.  Shawna was a star.  Wow, how thorough she was.  Julia, an RN who was my lead nurse for a shift, was unbelievable.  I was made to feel like valued family.  Once I hit my call button, Julia came in. and said, “Did you miss me?”  I have to admit I did.  “Well, you’ll have to get used to it.  I’m at my end of shift and Monday, you’re going home.

Monday afternoon, I came home.  I spoke to many of the nurses who asked me, “Any pain,” about my circumstances, listening to my body, obeying it and getting so quickly to care..They all repeated, “You did the right thing.  All though the jury is out as to the degree of recovery you can expect, you’ve certain improved your odds for a pretty complete recovery.”

You know that fourteen minutes I spoke of earlier.  It makes all the difference.  I was an easier case because of it.  According to the nurses, “Speed saves muscle.”  Heart muscle, deprived of oxygen, dies if not treated quickly and can become scar tissue.  Dr. Erin Fender is a cardiology, the partner of the doctor who did the catheterization, told me, “The human heart, with each pump, will move 55-60% of its capacity.  It would be dangerous to do a consistently higher number.  Your echo reveals your level at 35%.  You’ve lost the difference.  You’re going to go through Cardiac Rehabilitation Therapy for 12 weeks, where you’ll exercise while on a heart monitor.  We’ll learn then how close you can come back to that 55-60%.”

I have 16 medications in yellow highlighter on my list that are brand new or (like my lisinopril) increased dosage.  They are designed to help my heart recover, reduce the effort required to pump blood, keep my stents clear and beta block so natural chemistry in my body doesn’t fight my recovery.  Being a geek, I computerized a list with the time of day for each — morning and evening — and a place to check them off.  I’ve learned a bunch!  I love the fact that Julia, the RN I mentioned above, gave me my second day meds, introduced each and told me the function and then quizzed me on what she said.  I didn’t get an “A” on that test but, like all instruction, there was a lesson in the failures and I’ve taken pains to prep for the next exam.  It’ll probably never come, but I’m ready with answers and that was her intent.  I’m very grateful

Also, I’m grateful to all those who prayed for me, tended to me, cared for me, took my call button seriously, and shared their humanity.  I’m now in love with a whole bunch of nurses.  The guards at the Wilmington ER Door couldn’t be more caring as they were when helping this guy who said, “Chest pains,” get through the metal detector, into the wheel chair and up to the ER admission window. Dr. Wimmer (sic?) who did my catheterization procedure is my new best friend.

How could I fail to love and thank my friends for their prayers, good wishes and support.  Both you and God have blessed me and I’m in awe.

We all have our memories of 9/11. I’m told it’s like the day FDR died and JFK was assignated in that everyone remembers where they were when it happened. As luck would have it, Betty and I were in Portugal for a business outing. I guess it was a reward for a job well done for Janney. They flew us over for a conference at a resort outside of Lisbon right off the ocean. It was a beautiful resort with golf courses and beaches in every direction.

On 9/11, in the morning, there was an excursion bus scheduled with a half-day tour of Lisbon. Betty and I were treated to the historic sights of Lisbon, a seat of colonial power back in the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries. We drank in the sights and the stories and revelled in them.

When noon came, we broke for lunch and were told, “You man return to the hotel on the bus or you may take your liberty from here and go where you wish.” We chose the latter and bought two all-day metro passes and headed off, chosing stops that looked interesting to investigate by visiting. It was a great choice! We found a zoo at one stop, a butterfly exhibit at another, a ferris wheel next and finally a building full of humming birds.

It was a great afternoon but it was time to go back to the hotel. We subwayed to the train station and then to a stop down the beach from our hotel.

It was a pretty walk along the sea with shops and cafes looking into the Atlantic.

“I’m hungry, Betty.” Betty agreed so we sauntered into the seaside cafe to see what there was there. When we walked in the door, someone said in English, “You Americans?” And when I said yes, he said “Someone flew planes into the World Trade Center and knocked the buildings down.” “That’s not funny,” I replied looking up to the televisions around the room’s ceiling where, to my horror, CNN showed the topling of the twin towers — again, and again, and again. CNN’s motto has always been, “When it bleeds, it leads.” They lived up to it on 9/11.

So, we were an ocean away from reaching out to friends with whom I worked in the financial services industry since Merrill Lynch’s nickname for One Liberty Plaza was “Puzzle Palace.” Fortunately, none of my compatriots, from my early days in the industry and the times I’d make regulary trips to the World Trade Center, were among the victims.

Before we had the honor to be among the first International Flights to land in Philadelphia, I had the honor of receiving the support, sympathy and love from the people of Portugal. Everyone was so cordial and empathetic that I felt at home. It is a small world and we have friends everywhere. Let’s hope we deserve their friendship.

So, I went to see the folk at First State Orthopaedics for an update. I learned that my injuries didn’t guarantee an MRI, despite the rupture of my Quad Tendon. I was examened on 12/9 and, since I could straighten my left leg and push against pressure holding my leg down. That means any rupture wasn’t TOTAL. I learned I’m hanging buy a thread. So, the approach for my knee was physical therapy. I had started with Bayada Home healthcare already. They discharged me and I went back to ATI. Again, I’m a frequent flyer.

Diana Pantano, DPt is my therapist — again! We’re working on stenghtening both leg muscle structure. Assuming success, I may be able to avoid surgery.

My rotator cuff is different. As I learned when I sacrifice my right rotator cuff some years ago, when the tendons are separated from the muscles, the muscles start to atrophy immediately. The correction, in that instance, is a reverse shoulder replacement. We will postpone the decision on that until progression of the physical therapy results are evaluated.

I’m wedded to my walker as a tool to remain vertical voluntarily. I had an interesting experienced while using walkers. Back when Longwood reopened the fountain display in the gardens, Betty and I got tickets. They suggested we bring a chair. Well, I had a rollator walker which has a built-in seat. So, I took the rollator. When we got through the line, the ushers saw my rollator and ushered the family to a handicap section — the best seats in the house. Ah, what’s that saying about assumptions?

Turn the clock forward to January 26th. Paul Callistro posted Covid-19 vaccine availablity at Del Tech–Wilmington. She saw it first and signed up. She brought the info to me and I did the same, both for 12:00 Noon at 300 Orange Street.

Betty drove, since I am discouraged from doing that right yet, dropping me off at the handicap ramp with my walker. I climbed the ramp and, as you might guess, they held the door for me. I entered and proceeded to the block-long line. I stood there gathering my wits and a nurse walked up to me, said “Follow me,” and led the way. We walked block long line, came to the very front of that line and she waved me to the guy with the computer to check me in! (I’ve offered to rent people that walker.) My appointment was for 12:00 and the nurse stamped my sheet at 12:04 and I was done with my first of two vaccine doses.

If there is such a thing, I qualify. Not by choice, of course, do I deserve standing. I was volunteering for Races-to-Run to help shepard some autistic children on a 5k course in a fund raiser for Autism. Someone walked right in front of my bicycle and I had two choices: 1. drive through her, and 2: go over the handle bars. I chose the latter. I’d already done some rotator cuff damage in the Cesare Rodney Half Marathon when a car pulled up behind on the course, honked his horn and I dove for cover with a Camelback 5 liter water container on my back. Total weight and momentum did rotator cuff damage. Over the handlebars ripped the infra and supra spinatus tendons free of the muscle. First ortho repair followed. Now, I can’t pitch

Fell into my recliner chair and heard a snap in my left leg and an excruciating pain. My wife said, “miniscus tear,” to which I replied, “That’s for football Players not watchers. I’ve learned not to argue with her diagnostic skills. Dr. Michael Axe of First State Orthopedic fixed my torn miniscus.

In 2013, it was painful to walk. Dr. Bodenstab of First State told me I needed a hip replacement. On the second of July, that year, I got that done. This past May 2020, I had a fall (tripped on a stair and fell head first on the kitchen floor. The prosthetic hip popped out. Trip to Wilmington Hospital followed where they popped it back in again and suggested a follow-up with FSO. Dr. Bodenstab gave me a clean bill of health but admonished that making a habit of such a dislocation would find me under the knife again. 

December 7th (Delaware Day to me, Pearl Harbor Day to the rest of the country) I had an appointment for bloodwork at Quest Diagnostics, four minutes from my house. I was headed from the mud room off the garage to the car. I stopped at the top step to reach behind me to pull the door closed, which I did. But, since my concentration was on things behind me, I didn’t notice that my right sneaker’s soul overlapped the wrapping around the left. I lifted my left and fell to the concrete garage floor among my spouses gardening tools. Again, excruciating pain. I managed to get to my feet, keep my bloodwork appointment, returned home and plopped into my recliner. I stayed there 18 hours because I could get out of that chair. Claymont Ambulance got me out of the chair and to the emergency room of Christiana Hospital — Wilmington the next day. I spent the day being x-rayed and otherwise examined with “you hurt yourself” as the diagnosis. Honestly, I thought I was due a more expansive version of the damage so I called FSO, got an appointment and went to see them. The physician’s assistant ordered a weight bearing x-ray, gave me some exercises to do and sent me back home, resisting my campaign for an MRI.

Perhaps, because of the trauma to my lower body, it losened the prosthetic, I don’t know. But, on 12/22, I climbed the stairs (one at a time, since that’s what my body would allow) and went to bed. In the wee small hours of the 23rd, I woke in immense pain and Betty again played super-diagnostician and said, “I think your hip is out again.” 

Claymont came to see me again, put me in the ambulance and took me to Wilmington Hospital ER. The put my prosthetic hip back in and tried to find me a room. It took about 14 hours but the found me a room, moving me three time in the process. The word was that I was to have few Physical Therapy session in preparation for my release. My first PT session was a disaster. They could release me if I was ambulatory. They had a walker for me, but I couldn’t put enough weight on my left leg to lift myself high enough to reach the walker and the right leg was in a brace, rendering it little help. They couldn’t let me go home. So, I was admitted for Christmas Eve. On the 27th, I had improved my functioning enough to get up to the walker and walk around the 8th floor to the nurses station and back. I also demonstrated the ability to go up the stairs. I’d seen those stairs before as they are used for people like me who’ve had hip replacements in order to practice. So, I practiced twice. They allowed a release with the understanding that a team would deliver me, make sure I could navigate my environment and see that I was safe.

Back I went to my recliner (on which we placed pillows to raise the seat and allow me to escape the confines to the chair. The pillows had compressed under my weight. I couldn’t get out of the chair. Of course, it wasn’t unfamiliar territory so, with my medication and a urinal by my side, I prepared to spend the night. Bayada sent me a home health care worker for physical therapy and because he and Betty teamed up, we got me out of the chair. The pillows and cushions were suplemented to afford and easier escape and life went on. I wasn’t permitted to climb 13 stairs to the bedroom so the chair was me sleeping accomodations.

Bayada sent a nurse to visit the next day to check my vitals and general situation. But the pillows on the recliner again were again compressed so she and Betty had to help me get vertical. They included wood, thick book volumes and heavier pillows which solved the height problem for good. Meanwhile, Walmart sold me a chair that is designed for us old foggies with a power assist to help us to stand. It’s on the way. 

One of the avenues the the hospital physician suggested was to get me into a rehab facility to help me ambulate. We were told that our primary care physician had to make that referral, since I had come home from the hospital, despite the fact that there were no slots for me on 28 December. Off we went to see Dr. Fierro. I work with a wonderful nurse practionier in Fierro’s practice who shows me a platinum standard of care. I told her that, since the fall, I still had pain in my left leg and left shoulder. I mentioned my attempt to sell FSO on an MRI. She immediately order one each for my shoulder and my knee. The next day after the MRI she called me to say she was glad I had an follow-up appointment the following Wednesday. MRI showed that I had ruptured the quad tendon and torn my left rotator cuff. It appears that my frequent flyer status will only advance. I’ll be sure to report after January 13th.

Comes another procedure on Monday. I visit Lankenau Hospital at 9:30 on 11/9/2020 for some work to be done on my vocal folds. It follows my last visit there on 8/17/2020 to have some leukoplakia removed. There were three of them. One of them showed severe dysplasia — just a scootch less than a carcinoma. Dodged a bullet but that doesn’t result in encouragement. I’ve got to get my acid reflux under control, as that’s a proximate cause of these leukoplakia. I have a hint on how to improve my results.

Did you know that scotch has a pH of 3.5? Guess who’s not drinking scotch now? Same is true of bourbon. Now, vodka, a neutral grain spirit, has a pH of 7. Since I’ve avoided the scotch and boubon, one of the symptoms of acid reflux, need to clear my throat, has virtually disappeared. Thank God for the internet as that’s how I learned about the pHs of alcohol. So I’m taking the necessary action. I’m also being absolutely true to the proper behavior required to give myself the best odds toward the defeat of GERD.

Ok, now I’m going to have injections of adipose tissue into my right vocal fold in order to bring both of them closer together. Proximity of my vocal folds to each other is what makes one’s voice work. Of course, I’ll have to heal before I find out how sucessful the procedure has been. Duct tape Van will return.

Monday, 11/9 was the day for my most recent procedure. I did my pre-op clearance exam, my bloodwork and, thanks to Walgreen’s in Stanton, got my negative Covid-19 test response four hours after my visit to their drive-through set up. It was good to go. Betty drove me to Lankenau Hospital in Gladwiynne and we arrived by 7:00 A.M. Mainline Health is very friendly and welcoming. I got through Admission in record time, with my Covid-19 negative result and my list of medications and supplements in hand. After a short stay in the waiting room, I was led into the prep room to be divested of my street clothes and forced to wear a robe that opens in the back and slippers with rubber on the tops and bottoms (reversible) to keep from slipping. Ever wonder why they call them slippers? So, I got to talk to the prep nurse who made sure the hospital’s info on me matched the real me, set my I.V., took my blood pressure, and introduced me to the anesthesiologist. Then things slowed down. I was gurneyed into the OR. I knew a number of the staff, some from Hahnemann and others from Lankenau. I wonder why I’m not in their frequent flyer program. I was forced to breathe real oxygen and was knocked out. Dr. Sataloff injected a compound into my right vocal fold and adipose tissue harvested from my stomach into my left vocal fold. The object was to make them touch. I came to in the recovery room and was officially on total vocal rest. My discharge instructions promised it would be short. Now for the real news. Dr. Sataloff told me just before I left that everything went exactly the way we wanted it to go. Now we wait and I fight to keep from clearing my throat, avoid coughing, keep from mouthing, whispering, or speaking words. It’s not easy but I’ve picked up some tricks But I’m encouraged. And, as usual, I credit all of your support!

Now the trick is to keep it. It was a 2 1/2 hour procedure, not my longest but one that was pretty involved nonetheless. The surgery was performed at Lankenau Hospital.  I know Lankenau.  When I was working my way through Weste Chester University, one of my sources of income was a florist in Broomall PA as a jack of all trades including delivery.  I excelled at delivery.  I can’t get lost, I negotiate traffic with relative ease and I’m efficient at route planning so I went everywhere.  Lankenau was close enough to have good old Vandy transport blossoms there often.  However, the last time I was there was in March of 1990 when my youngest son William was born.  I was his mother’s coach, having dont the classes for natural childbirth.  The last time I left was when we toted Will and his mom back to Wilmington Delaware and our house on West 22nd Street. That was 29 years ago.  So we know Lankenau is over 30.  But it’s an infant compared to Hahenemann Hospital where all of my other Philly ENT procedures were performed.  Here’s what Dr. Sataloff said he was going to do: “Micro direct laryngoscopy with possible vocal fold reconstruction, thryoplasty with fat and muscle graft, possible resection of web, injection — steroid, fat harvest.”( I know that’s a lot of stuff, starting with Micro direct laryngoscopy You can check WebMD for the first piece.  (click the link to be whisked to WebMD) If your curiosity extends beyond that, WebMD can help.)For sure, they harvested adipose tissue from my neck and injected it into my left vocal fold. I was awake but with a local anesthetic so I didn’t feel anything.  It was fascinating.  There were about ten people involved in this procedure under the supervision of Dr. Sataloff.  He’s a teaching professional and every one of my appointments is with Sataloff and a bunch of residents, fellows and medical assistants.   The operation was no exception.  Every other time I was under general anethesia and missed the OR fun.  At one point, I felt like some of my air was being cut off and I started to wiggle to get attention that issue.  A little suction with a vacuum tube helped and we continued but I was admonished to stop fighting it by Dr. Sataloff.  “Mr. Olmstead, we are in the final stages of this procedure and things are going very well.  But you could do damage to our work.”  Well, since the vacuum tube had given me relief I could calm down and I did.Now the OR business was completed and, with the admonition that I couldn’t speak, cough, clear my throat, whisper or mouth words silently, I was escored into recovery to recover from the local anesthetic.  I was all taped up and gauzed.  At my follow-up they removed the gauze and bandaged the access point.  I’ve added some photos.  The first is the result of the procedure in my vocal folds.  They now touch.  They also vibratee. And as long as I can keep from coughing, clearing my throat, etc., they will continue to improve the quality of my voice.   

Some of the tissue injected is visible.  

 

When I came home from Lankenau Hospital, I sported gauze and tape.

After the follow-up on Tuesday, October 8, 2019 the gauze and tape were replaced with the bandage shown here.

Things are very hopeful.  I’m considerably more encouraged than I have been for quite some time.  The light at the end of the tunnel is probably not an on-rushing train.  I am so greatful for the support, good wishes and prayers from all my friends.  You’ve made the tribulations easier to bear and the positive outcome seem inevitable.

God bless you all!

My goodness, what a trek! And there’s another procedure on the way. Dr. Sataloff tells me i’m not vibrating. My left vocal fold is slightly lower than the right one. That’s correctable by injecting adapose tissue into the fold. So on October 7th I’m scheduled to visit Lankenau Hospital for that procedure. Of course, I’ll find myself again on total vocal rest but I don’t know how long this time will be my forced silence but I’m hopeful as to the outcome.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned my acid reflux issues. Some of my reading has indicated that the leukoplakia and carcinomas on my vocal folds could be a result of the acid in my esophagus. And I’ve tried to fight GERD with all the tricks known to the medical profession: Medicine, restricted diet, head-elevating bed wedge, limits on the timing of ingestion and alkaline water. The acid persists, despite all these things. Then I got lucky and got a very nasty upper respiratory infection.

I know how counter-intuitive that sounds but hear me out. It was nasty. I had a bad cough and wheezed like crazy. So, I made an appointment with my primary care physician. Got prednisone, antibiotics and an order for the chest x-ray. That’s where I got lucky. Nice lady at Delaware Imaging processed my prescription and set up my x-ray. We spoke afterward and I shared the belief that GERD caused how I sounded. She volunteered information on Linx procedure. She had the Linx procedure performed and it ENDED HER ACID REFLUX. Well, on 10/16 I’ve got an appointment with a surgeon to investigate it’s advisability for me.

Well, with a little luck, both the cause and the result of my many surgeries will be behind me. I’m seeking prayers and good wishes for such an outcome.

My friends and family, both on Facebook and in general, have been incredibly supportive in my quest to overcome much dysplasia and two cancers. I was very lucky. The cancers were in-situ — not invasive.

After over a dozen procedures on my vocal folds, I developed considerable stiffness in my right vocal fold due to scar tissue build-up. It needed to be replaced. Modern medical science is outstanding! Buccal graft was a new term from that science that I learned would apply to me. Buccal mucosa harvesting was performed in my cheek to provide material to create a replacement for my badly scarred vocal fold. Actually, it was attempted twice.

In February of 2018, I checked into Hahnemann Hospital for what was scheduled for an hour and a half procedure for a buccal graft on my right vocal fold. But something misfired! It turned into a five hour procedure, a trip to intensive care and a four day stay in the hospital. My tongue was so badly swollen that I couldn’t swallow. If you can’t swallow you can’t eat, drink or take medicine. I needed to do all three so they put me on I.V. and kept me under supervised care. When I could swallow, I campaigned to be released. Honestly, I could BARELY swallow. Forget trying to chew and swallow. I was forced to be on a liquid diet for a while. Poor Betty was so worried about me as I went through recovery. I had a suction device in my home, couldn’t lie down in bed for a while, couldn’t eat solid food. To top it off, the hospital and the medical supply weren’t on the same page. Had it not been for Betty raising hell on the Friday I was discharged, the suction device wouldn’t have been delivered until Monday. That would have been an untenable and very difficult situation. Thank God for Betty. She wouldn’t let that happen, staying on the phone until she conveyed the gravity of the current situation.

I needed suction both in the hospital and after I was released in order to clear the goo my body was developing as it tried to heal.

I don’t understand what caused it, but the graft failed. Hence the February 25, 2019 scheduling of another attempt, this time Dr. Sataloff used tracheal access to work on my vocal fold. My tongue wasn’t involved so it didn’t get beat up. And the procedure, which did run over scheduled time by 1/2 hour, was finished and I went home.

My follow-up on February 27, 2019 was instructive, both in good and bad ways. The good ways: I now had two vocal folds that were beautifully pink and TOUCHING. My vocal folds hadn’t touched in years, since the early days of surgeries to remove in-situ carcinoma and dysplasia. I was on the most strict vocal rest ever. That procedure took place on February 25, 2019. That’s when my total vocal rest started. It has only been slightly modified on May 23rd. I still not supposed to speak on the telephone, at least not for any length of time. I don’t know when that will change. I don’t think I’d call that a bad turn of events. What was unfortunate, although temporary, was growing a fat head. Apparently, trachael access allows leakage of air into tissue of the head. My face ballooned. My eyes were swollen shut and I looked like a real fat head.

So, I’m no longer an air-induced fathead. The swelling went down in a couple of weeks and the bandage was removed from my neck when the incision was healed enough to do so. They let some air out of my Adam’s Apple, so it got a bit more normal.

I’ve been working extensively with my speech pathologist Bridget Rose at Philly ENT. I’m regaining tonality. In other words, my speech has different tones in it. I’m learning to use my true (and new!) vocal folds. I may need another procedure to correct an intentional over-graft of tissue. Doctor Sataloff expected me to lose some of the graft material as that’s customary. So, he over-grafted tissue to account for the loss. If normal retraining of the vocal folds don’t bring the remainder down to normal levels, he may surgically remove the excess.

Maybe this trial is headed toward a conclusion. I certainly hope that’s the case. But, as always, I certainly couldn’t have done as well as I have without all the support of my friends and loved ones. It has truly been a trial and without your support, it would have been easy to lose hope. You saved me. I would say that you tossed me a life saver, but they have carbohydrates. I’ve gained so much from all of you and I am so deeply grateful. God bless you all.