I promised I would talk about why Greg didn't let us know when he was upset when he was very tiny.
When we finally brought Greg home from the hospital he was about 6 pounds, 10 ounces and was 4 months old. It was late August, so he soon joined his father and me in the church choir loft, where I was the choir director. Of course, for the first anthem of the year we did what we call an "old warhorse" - an anthem that has been around so long that almost every choir in the country has sung it. This one was particularly loud and boisterous, and the organ gets going full blast toward the end of the piece. Greg was in his car seat next to Jim while we sang, hooked up to his apnea monitor and supplemental oxygen. When we finished the anthem - with great flourish, I might add - the beeping of the monitor could be heard in the sudden hush, and there was a palpable collective gasp from the congregation. Panicked, we looked down to discover the little guy was totally red and screaming his lungs out - and making absolutely no sound at all! The monitor had gone off, not because Greg had stopped breathing, but because his heart rate was so high! He was as mad as a hornet about all that noise the choir and organ had just made and he wanted someone to know he did not approve!
Greg didn't really start to talk until well after his third birthday, and he was difficult to hear and had a raspy sounding voice. I thought it was from being intubated for so long - as so many preemies are - but it never really improved. At age 4 I took him to see an ENT (Ear, Nose and Throat specialist) who gave me quite an unexpected diagnosis. He used an anesthetic to numb Greg's nose and passed a fiber optic tube down his nose to right over this vocal chords. (Greg really didn't like this very much, but we did get the job done). Greg's left vocal chord was lying off to one side, completely useless. It was paralyzed. The explanation: Greg had had surgery to close his patent ductus when he was only 9 days old and maybe 3 inches wide! The patent ductus is a valve in all mammals that needs to close to reroute blood once the baby is born. In the womb, the fetus's blood goes one direction, and when born and he begins breathing air, the blood needs to circulate the other way. Often in premature babies this doesn't close on its own, and Greg was a very tiny premature infant. So a thoracic surgeon closed it with a little clip, but had to make an incision along Greg's shoulder blade, in his back, to do it. In the process, he nicked the nerve to his left vocal chord.
The ENT who first diagnosed Greg referred us to another physician in Detroit who put a piece of plastic inside Greg's left vocal chord to make it fat enough to come close to the other vocal chord, making it a lot easier for him to make noise. I had nightmares about this surgery, as you can well imagine! To top it off, the surgeon had only done one other child, and in the middle of Greg's surgery they called us to say they were delayed - they had to get some smaller tools! Still, Greg was eating crackers that evening, and the next day, at a restaurant in Lansing, we had to ask him to "use his inside voice"!
His voice is still raspy and a little airy, but he can sing quite well and loves forensics and debate, so his speaking voice issues have not deterred him in the least. At 17, the surgeon who did the implant feels he won't need another one, so all's well that ends with Greg making himself heard!
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