I distinctly remember as a teenager working in a Little Chef during the summer hols when a deaf/mute (or hearing and speech impaired...?) group came in. The waitress couldn't cope with it, she simply didn't know how to begin to communicate, so I stepped in. It was great fun for all concerned. We had a good laugh, they enjoyed their meal and went away happy. I've only recently begun to appreciate how they must have felt.
I have been without a voice for a few months now. Hell, I'm without a voice box (larynx) and most of the other functional parts of my throat. It's hugely frustrating, as I'm sure you can imagine. I communicate mostly by mouthing the words I want to say, keeping it as simple as possible. Sometimes, if I'm lucky and if the wind's blowing in the right direction, I can produce a faint sound that is the basis of esophageal speech.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Esophageal_speech
The BBC video above is about electronic communication aids - talking computers along the lines of the Stephen Hawking model we're all familiar with, although the technology has moved on a long way in recent years. One development is that you can record your own voice to be used by the computer, but that requires quite a lot of notice before the operation and was therefore an option unavailable to me. I haven't explored this option in any great detail yet as I'm hoping that I won't have to rely on it.Esophageal speech, also known as esophageal voice, is an airstream mechanism for speech that involves oscillation of the esophagus. This contrasts with traditional laryngeal speech, which involves oscillation of the vocal folds. In esophageal speech, pressurized air is injected into the upper esophagus and then released in a controlled manner to create the airstream necessary for speech. Esophageal speech is a learned skill that requires speech training and much practice. On average it takes 6 months to a year to learn this form of speech. Because of the high level of difficulty in learning esophageal speech, some patients are unable to master the skill.
It's just over 3 months since the surgery, and if everything has healed properly, the consultant will insert a voice prosthesis to help me speak, though this doesn't work for everyone.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voice_prosthesis
I am in some ways quite fortunate (relatively speaking of course...A voice prosthesis (plural prostheses) is an artificial device, usually made of silicone that is used in conjunction with voice therapy to help laryngectomized patients to speak. During a total laryngectomy, the entire voice box (larynx) is removed and the windpipe (trachea) and food pipe (esophagus) are separated from each other. During this operation an opening between the food pipe and the windpipe can be created (primary puncture). This opening can also be created at a later time (secondary puncture). This opening is called a tracheo-esophageal puncture (TE puncture). The voice prosthesis is placed in this opening. Then, it becomes possible to speak by occluding the stoma and blowing the air from the lungs through the inside of the voice prosthesis and through the throat, creating a voice sound, which is called tracheo-esophageal speech.
) in that I've always had good communication skills, and extensive acting training has probably been very helpful. I can articulate well, albeit silently, and also use facial expression and body language to express myself. I throw a particularly impressive tantrum when really irritated...This does, of course, require an element of concentration, willingness and intelligence on the part of the "listener", and some people are naturals at this while others are hopeless. Attitude is also relevant. Some people - an unhappy minority I'm delighted to say - can't even bring themselves to look me in the eye. I have a clear scar running from one ear down under my chin and across my throat then up to the other ear - it's not pretty. Nor is the swelling around my jaw line that makes me look like a large hamster; that's caused by lymnphedema, the removal of the lymph nodes in the neck that act as a drain preventing the accumulation of fluid (or something like that...). There's also, of course, a fairly large hole in my neck that is probably quite intimidating!
Many people seem to assume that because I can't speak I must also be hard of hearing and start to speak loud and slowly. Oh joy, I can feel my hackles rising as I type. People who should know better are not immune. District nurses come twice a week to change my dressings (cue district nurse jokes from pharvey, sateeb et al - feel free gents!
), and some of them are shouters. I had my annual diabetes eye check yesterday, and the technician suddenly said with a smile "I don't know why I'm shouting, you're not deaf!" - I could have kissed her. Some people assume you are stupid, and I won't tolerate that - out comes the most useful tool provided to me when still in hospital, an LCD writing tablet, which goes everywhere with me. It's surprising how scathing you can be in just a few words! Anyway, just a bit of food for thought. These are all things that I didn't pay much attention to until fairly recently, and I thought some first-hand experiences might be interesting. As always, sympathy not required - not wanted, in fact. I still have quality of life, though I have to say that will be hugely boosted when I can enjoy proper food again!
All the best and wishing you a good recovery.
) sense of humour and have not retreated into your shell where many if not most would have done so. Fair play to you 
