It Might Get Messy

In 1897, Winston Churchill [1] wrote “Of all the talents bestowed upon men, none is so precious as the gift of oratory. He who enjoys it wields a power more durable than that of a great king. He is an independent force on the world. Abandoned by his party, betrayed by his friends, stripped of his offices, whoever can command this power is still formidable.”


I shuddered when I read this. It has only just occurred to me that I have made my living and my life based on public speaking. From teaching remedial summer school in Wayne, New Jersey in 1976, through graduate school, academia, government, and consulting, my ability to speak effectively has had my back. Which is a good thing—I’m not swimming in talent, and skillful oratory has been my one true core competency.


I shuddered because the aftermath of my cancer treatment is that my speaking voice is badly impaired. I no longer have the gift of oratory. This scares the crap out of me. There is nothing else I’m really able to do except talk on my feet. It seems to me it’s now a race—my professional life against the recovery of my voice. It’s certainly not a gimme. For one thing, my voice will always be different from its pre-malignancy self. Will it be as persuasive, as sharp, as effective? Beyond that, will I even have a job when it does finally recover? 


At my series of checkups at the hospital last week, it was made clear that it will take on the order of a year, maybe two years, for my voice to recover. It’s not at all clear to me that I can survive professionally that long. Of course, I’m not sure what the alternatives are… . 


On the positive side, the nutritionist gave me some very useful eating advice. I told her that just a bite or two of food by mouth makes me feel full, which is part of why it’s taking so long for me to get off the feeding tube (although recurrent surgery through a few weeks ago also played a role). She says that’s to be expected biochemically. What I have to do is eat a little bit by mouth before I eat via tube. This will prep my system for the big change-over.


And you know what? It seems to be working. I’m still pouring my 8 cans of emergency rations a day, but eating some real food first (well, except for first thing in the morning. I’m barely able to get the two breakfast cans down in the a.m., much less try to prepare and ingest some sort of gruel first). And the past couple of days, I’ve been eating more and more by mouth. I may get through this yet. At least physiologically.


Oh well. Today I put up holiday lights in the cul-de-sac and some in the front yard. Busy work week coming up. Tonight, I’m going back to read a little more of this history of World War Two. And also the gospels and Revelation. Every year between Thanksgiving and my birthday, I read all four gospels. And then, as a reward for the slogging that requires (the lists of “begats” alone is intimidating), I read Revelation. As psychedelic as anything Philip K. Dick, or even the Hindu holy books, can offer. This year, I have a brand new Oxford revised standard edition to replace the rather stodgy King James paperback I’ve used for decades. This is much more readable!


Thanks for checking in, my friends. My love to you all, and I hope you’re having a nice start to the holidays!


Notes


[1] My source is an excellent and very readable recent history of World War Two, The Storm of War, by Andrew Roberts, Harper Collins 2011. The quote is on page 46.