CHAPTER 104

2025-11-12

Reflecting on my past surgeries, there were three that affected my ability to speak. In fact, the last one damaged my vital energy.

The first was in early summer of 1981 in Hong Kong. After having my tonsils removed from both sides of my throat (see Essay No. 138: Surgery Rehearsal in Hong Kong, published November 6, 2025), I had to refrain from talking much to avoid slowing the healing of the wounds. The details of that recovery, over forty years ago, have long faded from memory—probably because there was no unpleasant experience at all. Everything must have gone very smoothly.

The second was in the winter of 2012 in Vancouver, after my liver transplant. Because a breathing tube had been inserted into my lungs, it rubbed against my vocal cords. I often used my hand to adjust the tube’s position myself, which caused even more friction and damage. Eventually, I found that I could not produce any sound. The nurses reminded and warned me many times, but I didn’t stop—driving them to the brink of exasperation.

Inside, I was terrified. As a social worker, my voice was my livelihood. I feared that if I lost it permanently, I would no longer be able to work in my profession and would be forced to change careers.

During my hospital stay, I was referred to a specialist. The doctor personally came to my ward with instruments to examine me, and arranged for his mentor to follow up after my discharge.

Fortunately, the function of my vocal cords gradually recovered. Two months later, at my follow-up visit, I was told that no further monitoring was needed. I could safely return to my counselling work.

The third was in the summer of 2019, at a regional hospital in New Westminster, where I was treated for acute depression. After three weeks of hospitalization, I was discharged. Later, I noticed that my voice had lost its “vital breath” (中氣)—I had no strength to project my voice. My tone was weak and breathy, barely audible to others.

My depressive state and chaotic lifestyle, as the Chinese saying goes, had damaged my vital energy (元氣).

When I was discharged, I had lost more than ten pounds and remained very frail. Before admission, I had suffered from nearly three months of insomnia, poor appetite, and malnutrition. My mental state was tense and severely depleted. It was already summer by then—the weather outside was warm—but I still had trouble sleeping, sweated watery heavily over night, and my right leg felt icy cold. Wearing long clothes and pants to the supermarket, I would feel chills throughout my body. My saliva was insufficient, and swallowing became difficult. These symptoms lasted for about three months.

Since I had been diagnosed with diabetes in late 2009, I had continued to follow a diabetic diet during my depressive episode—but I was not eating enough to be full. Realizing that my lack of “vital breath” came from malnutrition, I decided to first restore nourishment, and adjust my blood sugar later, allowing it to rise a little if needed.

Soon after, one day my wife and I went out for fish broth rice noodles. The taste was excellent. At that very moment, I suddenly realized—it was the first time in over half a year that I had truly tasted something delicious!

Gradually, I regained interest in watching the news, could focus better on entertainment shows, and even found myself laughing. Eventually, I picked up books again. Life began to regain its flavor.

Sweating decreased, my body warmed up, my energy returned, and my voice became audible again.

At that moment, I recalled a story:

An elderly man, frail in body, worried his family and friends about his declining health—they feared he might pass away silently any day. A year later, he called his old friend in Vancouver from Toronto. The friend was astonished to hear not only that he was alive, but that his voice was loud and vigorous. The old man proudly said that over the past year, he had focused on training his voice—and unexpectedly reaped great rewards.