I’m off to the pulmonologist’s. After not talking very little yesterday, my voice isn’t much different. I hope nothing is permanently wrong with it. I mean, if it were a cool-sounding husky, that would be one thing, but it’s not. It’s kind of a raspy, quiet, thin effort of air. I squeak, kind of like my 14 year-old grandson, whose voice is changing but hasn’t quite arrived at its lowest yet.
I’ll let you know how things turn out.