The Banal Chew

Ouch

 After two months of slothdom and some pretty radical dietary indiscretion over the holidays, I am now, officially, back in the gym.  And pardon my language, but it bloody well hurts.  Thankfully, the pain is outweighed by the good feeling of having returned to something that I enjoy and that is also simply the right thing for this middle-aged man to do.  I need to keep up my health.  I sure won't have the cash to afford a lot of expensive healthcare when I'm in my golden years.  Not at this rate.

By the way, I think I just invented the best post-workout or morning tea smoothie ever.

Sandy's Banana-Berry Superfood Smoothie

Banana
Low-fat berry yoghurt
Wolfberry (Goji) puree
Vanilla protein powder
Apple-pear juice

It's pretty yummmy.  Your body will hug you.

Plumbing Issues

The verdict is in.  My nose is a mess.

Here's an image from my CT scan last week.

Notice the dog-leg in my septum, which should be a fairly straight line dividing the nose in half. And don't even mention the bony spur...or the extra air sac in my superior turbinate.  Don't know what that means?  Don't worry; you probably don't want to.

For the purpose of comparison, here's an image of a normal nose and sinuses. 

Look at them, lying there and gloating with their perfect septum.  God I hate them.
(Image from ARS.)

Anyway, despite the plumbing issues, there's no dire, visible pathology that requires immediate attention to improve my overall health.  My ENT said that at some point, I will probably have to have surgery to correct the problems, but it's nothing to rush into.

Okay fine.  I just want to be able to sing again like I used to.  When I told him that, he gave me that compassionate look that we've all seen from our medical providers...the one that translates, "Yes, and I wish I could give you the answer you're looking for."

So what's causing the vocal dysfunction?  The upshot: it could be (at least) a couple of things. 

Firstly, there are issues with the hypertrophic (meaty) nature of my sinus passages.  Over the course of my life, upon coping with so many allergies, the mucosal tissue in my nasal passages and sinuses has basically worn itself out.  As a result, it's time to call in some housekeeping assistance in the form of rinsing out my nose twice a day with saline spray.  Hopefully, that will keep the tissues working more efficiently and reduce the drainage into my pharynx...drainage that might be causing the dispatch of signals to my brain that something is wrong, thereby triggering an abnormal vocal response. Wow. Me and mixed signals.  Who knew?

Secondly, there's the teeth grinding that I mentioned in a previous post.  It might be causing hypertonicity (overworking/building) of jaw and neck muscles, contributing to a secondary vocal disorder.  I saw my dentist this week and was fitted for a nightguard.  If that alone doesn't solve the problem, I might have to have caps put on all my teeth to build them up and unhinge my jaw a bit...a big job and thousands of dollars.  Wonder if she'll throw in porcelain veneers for kicks.

Starting Monday, I'm seeing a speech therapist who specializes in hyperfunctional voice disorders.  I look forward it.  I'm ready to get things back on track, vocally. 

Scoping, Scanning, Swinging and Splinting

I'm going to come clean.  I've been in denial.  Today I did something about it.

A few years ago, I was engaged to give a solo (voice) recital for an arts society in Tucson.  As it happens, a week before the concert I came down with a cold.  Fortunately, it subsided enough to allow me to sing the program, but during the recital I experienced a very strange sensation.  I didn't recognize some of the sounds that I was making, and it scared me poopless. 

Now I realized that my voice wasn't back to 100% after the cold, but after many years of performing, I knew when I was able to sing and when I should cancel.  The run-throughs a couple of days prior to the concert had gone well, and after all I had sung over the dregs of a cold before with no problem.  But during this particular concert, something was different. 

I am a lyric tenor...in fact, a tenorino of sorts, "stuck" between tenor and countertenor.  The bulk of my work as a singer came about as a result of my uniquely high voice combined with a specialization in historical vocal performance practice and early vocal repertoire.  Agility and relative comfort in the passaggio (the tricky area between one's chest range and head voice) are key to the technique of singing historical repertoire for the tenor voice, and it had always been a strength of mine. 

During the Tucson recital, I felt something happen to my voice as I performed.  It is hard to describe, but the closest analogy I can use is that of hydroplaning.  Anyone who has had the misfortune of experiencing what it feels like to lose control of your vehicle on very wet road might understand.  It was as if someone took command of my vocal mechanism.  I could steer a little, but basically I just had to go with it and hope for the best.  I got through the recital unscathed, but shaken. 

During the following months, I could sense something was wrong with my voice.  Practice was frustrating and sessions with my voice teacher left me disappointed.  I wondered if I had sung when I shouldn't and done something dreadful to my vocal folds.  Or worse, was there an underlying pathology that lay undiagnosed? 

Here's where a mix of avoidance and denial set in.  I discussed the issue with my teacher, a fine teacher and vocal pedagogue.  His thought was that, because I was involved in doctoral studies in conducting and doing comparatively little singing, I was simply getting out of shape.  Cautiously, I accepted his word and thought that this, combined with a more challenging approach to vocal technique we had undertaken, might be taking my voice in an unexpected direction and I should wait it out for a bit.

Finally, after a few more months, my teacher and I both agreed that something didn't seem quite right.  A speech pathologist friend of mine referred me to a good otolaryngologist in Tucson, and a stroboscope was done.  After ruling out reflux disease as the culprit, I was given an allergy test, to which I reacted off the chart.  I was promptly prescribed some antihistamine spray and told to see how it went.  Then I moved to Australia.  I hoped a different set of allergens would make things better.

Now, nearly three years later, there's really no improvement.  This is where the denial comes in.  I suppose it's been easy enough to neglect the issue, because I decided upon moving here to focus my efforts solely on conducting, rather than singing.  I felt that marketing myself as a singer would "brand" me in a way that would make it difficult for people to accept me as someone equally as competent on the other side of the podium. 

As anyone who has ever read The Banal Chew knows, it's been difficult.  There has been woefully little conducting work for me in Sydney.  I have had a couple of gigs, but nothing substantial or permanent.  After the first year or two, upon realizing the situation here was not going to improve, I began to consider working as a singer again.  At least it would be something in my field. 

It was hard enough in the first place to shed my primary identity as a singer, forged after many years of performing, and assume that of conductor.  When I decided to take my skills as a singer and incorporate them in a leadership role by getting advanced degrees in choral conducting, I knew that it would mean a big change.  But I wanted to continue singing, and I thought the option would always be there for me.  Now, however, with a voice disorder, even that seemed unlikely. 

So I fell into a deep state of denial, trying my best to silence the nagging voices and immersing myself in the business of settling into life as a migrant to a new country, raising Zane, taking part in a maturing relationship as Mark's partner, and getting to know a completely new set of family and friends.  It was easy enough to avoid the issue.

Now, however, as I have realized that my identity as a creative artist is in a frightening state of decay, the need to stop denying the fact that there is something wrong with my voice has become apparent.  And I have done something about it.

I saw a well-respected otolaryngologist in Sydney today.  He performed a nasal endoscopy and gave me the happy information that my larynx is fine.  There are no lesions on my vocal folds.  Oh my God, the relief.  I haven't felt any like that in, well, ever.  If you're a singer, you probably know what I mean.

It wasn't all good news, however.  There are some potential issues with my nose.  I have a very deviated septum and bony spur protruding into my left nasal passage, probably caused by a broken nose when I was a kid, he said.  (I do seem to remember something about a golf club hitting me in the face when I was very, very young.)  Not only that, but there are a few other physiological anomalies as well.  I have just returned from a nasal CT scan to rule out any nasal pathology.  I go back to the doctor next week for the results.  As my friend, Deano, would say, "Oh burrr."

Somewhat more troubling, the ENT also diagnosed me with a very wide mandibular swing, which means my jaw moves substantially to the right as it opens.  According to him, this is usually caused by joint dysfunction associated with bruxism.  In lay terms, that means I grind my teeth.  Apparently, bruxism can lead to hyperactivity of certain muscles that can, in turn, result in a secondary voice disorder.  A mandibular swing...who knew?  I have been instructed to see my dentist for a dental splint to wear at night.  Joy. 

So it's been a day of good news and not-so-good news.  Appendages crossed that the CT scan rules out any underlying disease process in my nose.  And I hope my new dental splint, for which I am getting fitted early next week, turns out to be helpful.  Heck, maybe I'll even sleep better.  That would be nice.  Not as much as being able to sing my favorite Bach arias again, but still nice.

Exercise your head

March 10 to 16 is International Brain Awareness Week. 

Why not treat your gray matter to a little work-out?

Go ahead.  What'll it hurt?

 

Are the rows in this image parallel?
If no, in which direction do they slant?
If yes, any idea why they don't look it?
(image from SharpBrains)

The answers to the following clues are two-word rhymes. 

Example: The monsters under my bed stay there because of my...
            night light.

1. Birthmark on a person from Copenhagen...

___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

2. Gastropod residue...

___ ___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

3. Eating a diet low in cholesterol and fats...

___ ___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

4. To enjoy festivities in a big way...

___ ___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

5. What Wallace might see after treating his pup to too much cheese...

___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Bonus.  Lite, underground reading material for a female impersonator...

___ ___ ___ ___     ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ - ___ ___ ___ ___

(Puzzle modeled after that found on the Dana Foundation website.  Answers on Thursday!)

From Petri Dish to Your Table

First of all, let's be clear:  there is no need to clone animals for food.

The Bryant Park Project reports:

After six years of intensive research on whether meat, muscle tissue and milk from cloned animals are fit for human consumption, the FDA says they "are as safe as food we eat every day."

If that's not obscene enough, the next line of copy reads:

The stamp of approval from the FDA removes the last regulatory hurdle to mass-marketing cloned meat and milk products.

I don't know why we humans cannot leave well enough alone.  It was never about safety anyway.  We now know that there have been two issues playing the part of the finger in the dyke.  One is the wary consumer who (thank God) is  reluctant to buy into the horrific notion of creating lives in laboratories with the ultimate goal of shooting a piston through their heads, and carving up their genetically engineered flesh for our deli sandwiches and $10 Sunday roasts. 

The other reason is the impact such an industry would have on the economic fabric of modern times.  It would stand to reason that this would be the one of primary importance to the U.S. government. 

It's true, isn't it?  In life, it really does all boil down to sex (or lack thereof, in this case) and money, doesn't it?

Banalité du jour

I've been fighting off a chest cold the past week, even skipping a cool party on Saturday night to stay at home, sip herbal tea and breath steam.  Zane has been very sick with a bad cough, so I knew it was only a matter of time.  This Saturday is Zirkus!, the Sydney Mardi Gras organization's annual Sleaze Ball.  I already have my ticket.  I can't won't get sick.

On top of the chesty cough, I think I bruised my eardrum last night.  I had been resting my head on Mark's upper arm and didn't realize a vacuum had been created within my ear canal.  When I lifted my head, it was like someone took a rubber plunger to the side of my head. Pop! During my sleep, I woke up now and again with some dull pain in my ear.  Today, my hearing is a little deadened in that ear, but there's not much pain.  I should probably go have the doctor peer in and see what I've done.  Sigh.  Cough.

Fate is conspiring to keep me from getting my sleaze on!

Do the Sniffle

It has finally happened.  I have caught the cold that Mark and Zane have been struggling with for a couple of weeks.  I probably got it from the Wii remote. Damn Wii.

Or it could have been from the goodnight kisses.  That's better.

-------------------------------------------

The NSW government has released its arts budget for the next fiscal year.  They are loudly trumpeting the fact that funding will be increased for the "major cultural institutions" in NSW (eg, Opera Australia, NSW Art Gallery, et al).  [Splat]

It comes at a cost, however.  Many smaller arts groups will be almost surely be denied funding.  This is due to the fact, merely whispered, that $20 million has been cut from the arts appropriations, an overall reduction of 6% from the last budget.  That makes it difficult for the lesser known organizations that have been around for a long time, but it likely sounds the death knell for folks like me, the "emerging artists" with projects up our sleeves.  [Dong]

(News source: ArtsHub)

-------------------------------------------

I received notices last week that my applications for two academic jobs here in Australia were unsuccessful.  One rejection was based on a lack of "strong and continuing" service in the university setting.  The other, which is for a 6-month position to fill in while a university choir director goes on long-service leave, may have been an inside job from what I hear.  Whatever it was, I know deep in my heart I was a good candidate for that one.  Anyone who knows me and my history, when compared with the position description, would agree. 

The fact I didn't even get a phone call from either is mystifying.  I have a substantial CV.  I have graduated with top honors, received a doctorate from a well-respected university.  I was a Fulbright Scholar, for Pete's sake. 

I think the American thing is working against me.  Or maybe I just don't belong in the arts here.  It does a number on one's head, especially a stuffy, feverish one like mine at the moment.

Thus endeth the rant.  [Calliope music]

I Heart Being Happy

I'm in need of humor.

Yes, you too can have your very own life-size Beyoncé doll for just $1499.  Available now at your local Best Buy, KB Toys or Pleasure World stores.  (Just look in the aisle "to the left, to the left.")

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Here's an exciting algorithm to complete:

If Sandy's paternal grandfather died of congestive heart failure,

and Sandy's father has been diagnosed with atherosclerotic heart disease within the past 2 years,

then Sandy ________________________.

Yes, it seems that I am in firm possession of one of the primary risk factors for heart disease, inheritance.  Others are poor diet, smoking, high blood pressure, abnormal lipid (cholesterol) levels, sedentary lifestyle, and excessive stress. Since I turned 30, I have tried my best to make sure I don't acquire any of these.  I don't smoke, have good BP, watch what I eat, remain active, etc. Thankfully, to date I haven't...well, except for some inordinate stress levels now and again. Just this morning, I made a trip to my doctor, where I received good results from a recent lipid profile. Cholesterols, triglycerides...all at optimal levels.

Thanks to a brief stint as a project manager in the U.S. National Agricultural Library (NAL), I was hard-core vegetarian for 10 years. NAL houses a fairly impressive food and nutrition section with shelf upon shelf of vegetarian cooking guides, as well as a number of resources on biodiversity, animal cruelty and sustainability. After perusing much of this literature, I decided to check out a few cookbooks and try my hand at vegetarian cuisine. This was fueled not only by health reasons, but also as a political statement, my personal way of speaking out against factory farming (aka by its hyperbolic and sanitized alias, "industrial agriculture"). After that decade of vegetarianism, I slowly lapsed back into omnivorousness. I have a feeling I'll return to a meat-free lifestyle at some point, but for now I'm at least happy that my reunion with bacon and T-bones has not meant a significant rise in my cholesterol levels.

As for stress, well I am finding the need for relief today. I'll strike a quick yoga position. Cobra, anyone?

Polly Thelia

I have a third nipple.

"Supernumerary nipple" is the medical term. During their very early development, all mammals of both sex have what is known as a milk line, two ridges that run bilaterally down each side of the chest from the near the shoulder to the groin. In humans, the extra nipples that form along the milk line usually disappear around the 8th or 9th week. 

It was only about year ago that I realized that I have one. I'd always noticed the mark, but I never  knew what it really was. I had been offered many possible explanations by relatives and partners, eg, a birthmark, the ubiquitous coffee-table injury suffered by a clumsy child, and even a cigarette burn scar (gasp!).

You can't really detect it from a distance. Look on my left side, just below my ribcage. You can kind of make it out.  (Click to enlarge.)

Here it is.

A closer look

Even closer. (Too close, you're probably thinking.)

Anyway, while I was giving a massage treatment to a dog, I was curious as to why male dogs have so many nipples. So I did a little research into the issue, and during the process ran across this business of a milk line that occurs in all mammals. Mention was made of the occasional anomaly in humans whereby one or more extra nipples stick around after they should disappear. The light bulb glowed brightly.

I suppose I could get a medical professional to look at it and confirm my "diagnosis," but aside from a bit of fairly disturbing medical research linking the presence of supernumerary nipples to renal disease and an assortment of other conditions, there's not much to worry about. <nervous giggle>