Old Friend

This sequoia about 5,000 miles from its natural habitat.  Me and him both baby.

I return to the ENT as my voice gravelly again.  And me, a salesman.  I see the very capable Mr Ahmed who informs me that he will stick a cable down my nasal passage to look at my voice box.  Unlike the last time, he offers no local anaesthetic nor gel : "I do this all the time" Ahmed says.  "If it becomes too unbearable we can stop." I mean, what's his threshold for pain ? The Indians eat chili's that make the rest of us blow up from agony.  The cable feels like something, well, jammed eight inches into my head and, weirdly, there is a sensation in my lower throat only it is behind my throat. This becomes apparent when Ahmed asks me to count to three and I produce a pitiful gargle. At this point I am sweating and have my answer to the  Lethal Weapon question (Every dude wonders, from the comfort of his home or theatre, whether he can endure the electrocution inflicted on Mel Gibson graphically presented in the movie). I would last 30 seconds.

The good news : no pallops. I may have to do some speech therapy but no need for another operation.