After my success in spending three weeks without muttering one single word, the doctor congratulated me for passing the critical phase. However, he gave me a long list of 'do' and 'don't', not for some weeks this time, but for my lifetime. No matter how my life was running before my vocal cords problem, I was reminded that I won't be the same person again and I will not have the same life again. It became a permanent problem, like an inseparable shadow. I won't have the same physical abilities, I can't live my life freely like before, I have to think of the restrictions and be very careful. I can't be the 'me' I used to be. 
The first major request was to start voice therapy sessions, which were extremely boring and time consuming with the clinic located far from my residence and with the traffic jams.
The second was even tougher. I had to use a microphone while teaching. Though it sounds easy, it wasn't. With the wired mic we had at work I felt as if I lost an arm. I had to depend on just one hand, leaving the other for the mic, which was frustrating. It took me some weeks to find a wireless microphone and to get used to use it appropriately. 
It was tough. And I made it. I insisted to carry on my life, my new life. I was so upset to an extent that I decided not to surrender. I made up my mind that I will do whatever it takes to get used to my new life and my new me. Committing suicide wasn't a choice and living as a disabled person wasn't neither. I saw myself as a contributor, this was my life purpose. And as long as I was still alive, I had to do whatever it takes to keep contributing. I was forced to go into a battle I hadn't chose. 
And how did this turn me into a better person? I discovered in myself traits I hadn't knew before. I discovered that I'm a winner, a warrior, a fighter. It wired me to my soul. And I learned to live this quote with all my heart since then: "Some of the greatest battles will be fought within the silent chambers of your own soul." Ezra Taft Benson

Published by Iman Refaat