During our six weeks in LA, we saw a LOT of people who had plastic surgery. At least in the wealthier parts of town, it is part of the culture, and one can talk casually of having “work done.” For example, a friend of ours who is 50, newly single, and drop-dead gorgeous was asked by her date whether she was “going to have her eyes done.” I don’t think he got a second date.
So imagine my surprise yesterday when I went to see a laryngologist and discussed my options. He told me that he could do a procedure that would inject a liquid that would “plump up” my vocal cord, thereby making it easier for me to bring them together. Over time the body absorbs it, so you have to do it repeatedly. It is a face lift for my voice, and indeed they are starting to cross over from restorative cases like mine to cosmetic surgery.
There is a more permanent procedure where they place a gore-tex stint in your throat to move your vocal cord over. I am, however, not a good candidate because they would have to cut through radiated skin. Which is too bad not only because the voice-lift is a temporary solution (well, like a pedicure is temporary, I guess) but because it would have been fun to know I was carrying around a little piece of Vancouver in my throat. As a bonus, you’re awake for the surgery and the doctor adjusts it and you talk. That would be an amazing experience. But I’m happy not to take any unnecessary chances with my neck. The spasms and weird twitches are enough, thanks.