I am medically intuitive. I am often spot-on, too. Except when I am not; then I am really off (like now).I walked into the ENT (easy way of saying Otolaryngologist) three weeks ago after two months of sounding like a discordant mix of Demi Moore, Rod Stewart and Steven Tyler after a messy late night. Yes, not in a good way. I explained to the doc that I think I have a soy allergy, maybe corn and had indulged too much recently…it was so nice of him not to laugh out loud at me.Twenty minutes, an illuminated wire-y scope down my throat and $450 later, I walked out with the diagnosis of vocal cord nodules and a script for speech therapy. Yes, that thing that Celine Dion and Adele had. I now know these things.Weeks before my diagnosis, I struggled to speak at a packed screening of Warrior One. I didn’t know at the time that I was further damaging my voice every time I spoke. I didn’t even know what nodules were, but I knew my body was telling me something. I had been feeling frustrated for almost two months by my rougher than raspy voice, feeling even self conscious at times…then my friend spoke words that touched me and actually nudged me out of my little rut. Following the screening she posted: