Singing has always been a big part of my life. From the age of 9 until 18, I sung in school choirs; before, during, and after, I sang as a hobby and as a way to express myself. I sung everywhere: in the shower, in the car, in my room, and on stages. I've sung for graduations, competitions, basketball games, and to my dogs.

But when I woke up on February 17 of 2016, when I tried to ask my mom where I was, nothing came out. I tried and tried, but I could only muster a slight snort. The line, "screaming but no words come out" became more than song lyrics - it was my literal reality.

I couldn't speak at all until a few weeks later when a speech therapist put a "speaking valve" into my tracheotomy and with a lot of effort and force, I pushed out a "hello."

Over several weeks of therapy and hard work, I started to be able to have a few short conversations - but it wore me out! A 15 minute conversation felt like running a marathon and my muscles were completely drained by it all.

I kept fighting and fighting and I could hear my voice beginning to come back, though it was weak and quiet. I was finally able to get the trach removed!

But then, I had a rebound pneumonia infection. It was aggressive and progressed rapidly. Not long after it was found, it was hard to breathe. Despite my best efforts to tank deep breaths, my oxygen levels sank and I was wheeled to the ICU.

It was blurry from the fever and low oxygen, but I remember they discussed another tracheotomy, but I insisted that they tried something else first and keep that as a last resort. They put me under for a bronchoscopy and suctioned out a lot of mucus. I woke up during the procedure, but wasn't able to move or speak and could only hear the medical team (it reminded me somewhat of my coma). I remember hearing them discuss the large amounts of mucus they were removing, some vacuum-like noises, and putting me on the ventilator when they were done.

I was on the ventilator for one night and some of the morning. I slept through most of the week-long stay and large amounts of medication. Even in my drugged state, I flinched at the name of the type of bacterial infection I had, Pseudomonas aeruginosa.

When I started to recover more and resumed speech therapy, my voice had changed and sounded hoarse. The site from the trach remained slightly open long after it should have healed. I began to get in the habit of using all my muscles to force sound out and my nerves were all too happy to tense up. No matter what I did, my voice was very hoarse and reminiscent of speaking as someone grabbed your throat.

I continued speech therapy in the hopes of regaining the voice I had before, but even with major improvements, it was still hoarse. I went to a specialist in St. Louis for injections into my atrophied vocal cords, which helped again but didn't completely resolve it, as I'd hoped.

I've struggled to come to terms with the fact that my voice might remain hoarse - but at the same time, I'm grateful for the ability to speak at all.

My vocal cords had been temporarily paralyzed but regained function, which is an incredible feat! Following lots of healing, therapy, and injections, they move as they should, but the surrounding muscles still clench when I speak, have pain, or exert significant effort doing anything. This is something that I've noticed throughout my body, so I don't know how much it can be helped.

I do still hold onto hope that I can sing again in the future. I mourn the operatic soprano voice of my past, but I also celebrate this hoarse voice of a woman who survived the impossible.

Scars can tell a story of resilience - this one just happens to be audible.