I guess I won't be on "Idol" anytime soon.

Hey kids,

Momma's been living without a thyroid for a couple weeks now. The swelling's gone down, the scar's almost completely healed. I feel better than any woman has a right to feel, considering I had my throat ripped out a couple of Tuesdays ago. The pathology has come back on "the specimen," as we in the thyroidless community like to call it, and it was deemed cancer-free. But I'm thinking that testing a thyroid lying in a petri dish is like closing the barn door after the chickens have already bolted. Eh. What do I know.

The biggest, worrisome change that I have suffered so far is my total and complete inability to sing. I can't hit a note higher than a conversational C. It just comes out as strained air. I have trouble asking a question, as I find it hard to raise my voice at the end of the question. I try to make up for it with increased volume, with mixed results.

I've developed a habit over the past few months where I repeat everything Jakob says to me, in the form of a question. It lets him know that I understand what he's saying to me, and helps his pronunciation. So when he says, "Momma, I want some cereal," my response is, "Cereal? Do you want some cereal?" It's not as annoying as it sounds. Your speech is improving exponentially everyday, and you love all the extra practice.

But my responses to you nowadays sound more like shrill and angry accusations.

"Momma, the baby just puked on herself!" My strained and quavering response makes it clear to you that I think that it's your fault. So you sit there and say, "Wha? What?!?" It's all very counter-productive.

I'm hoping this is temporary, but both the surgeon and the endo have both indicated that I have a 50-50 shot at ever singing again. And if I do get better, it could take months to see improvement. This is bumming me out more than I thought it would. I mean, I don't make a living with my voice or anything, but I have always been able to carry a tune. Singing with you guys at night before going to bed has always been a special pleasure, but now HURTS like hell. Singing (loudly) in the car is more therapeutic than an hour with my therapist, but is currently a grimace-inducing pain.

It was nice knowin' ya, voice. But oh yeah... I don't have cancer. Hmph.