The Voice I Lost—And The Voice I Found
My name is Calvin Dodson, and I speak through a prosthesis. When I open my mouth, what you hear isn’t the voice I was born with. Throat cancer took that from me. It took my voice box, my natural speech, the sound my mother knew, the voice that once screamed in anger and whispered in prayer. But here’s what cancer didn’t take: my message. Losing my physical voice gave me something I never had when I could speak normally—a mission to speak for those who feel voiceless.
**The Body That Wouldn’t Quit**
I’m 62 years old, and my body reads like a medical textbook. Two-time cancer survivor—throat and lung. Two replaced hips. Hearing aids in both ears. Glasses to see. A prosthetic voice box to speak. I’m held together by surgeries, scars, and sheer stubbornness. Some people look at me and see brokenness. I look in the mirror and see proof that you can lose almost everything and still have something worth living for.
**From the Streets to Standing**
Twelve years ago, I was homeless. Addicted. Hopeless. I slept on park benches in Jacksonville, in shelters, in places so dark I wondered if morning would ever come. I’ve been to prison. I’ve hit what I thought was rock bottom, only to discover that rock bottom has a basement. I chased oblivion across state lines, hitching rides to nowhere, running from everything and toward nothing. And then, at age 50, standing at the intake desk of Sulzbacher Center with a failing hip and a desperate heart, I prayed: “God, I can’t do this. I need Your help.” That prayer changed everything.
**Twelve Years Sober**
From that moment to this one—twelve years—I haven’t been drunk. Not once. I went from homeless shelter to college classroom, earning my Bachelor of Ministry while recovering from hip replacement surgery. I went from prisoner to minister. From voiceless to having something worth saying. I didn’t do it alone. I didn’t do it because I’m strong. I did it because grace met me in that basement below rock bottom and said, “We’re not done yet.”
**Why I’m Writing This**
Because right now, someone reading this is where I was. Maybe you’re battling addiction and can’t see a way out. Maybe you’re facing a medical diagnosis that feels like a death sentence. Maybe you’re so broken you can’t imagine being whole again. Maybe you’ve made mistakes so big you think there’s no coming back.
I’m here to tell you:
**You’re not too far gone.**
You’re not too old. You’re not too broken. Your past doesn’t have to write your future.
**The 66 Voice Mission**
I created this blog—and I write my books—for the people who need to hear the unpolished truth. Not the sanitized testimony. Not the cleaned-up version. The real thing. The truth about: – What addiction really costs – How recovery actually works (the messy parts nobody mentions) – What it’s like to rebuild your life from nothing – How to find faith when you’re full of doubt – Living with disabilities and medical challenges – Starting over when you thought it was too late I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring things out. But I know what works because I’m living it.
**My Voice May Be Mechanical, But My Message Is Real**
When people hear me speak through my prosthesis, they sometimes do a double-take. The voice doesn’t match the person. It sounds robotic, artificial, not quite human. And you know what? That’s okay. Because the voice that matters isn’t the one coming through the device.
It’s the voice that says:
**Keep going. Don’t give up. Your story isn’t over.**
That voice? That’s the one cancer couldn’t touch.
**What’s Coming Next**
In upcoming posts, I’ll be sharing: – The real talk about sobriety (the parts AA meetings don’t always cover) – How I survived cancer twice and kept moving forward – Living with multiple disabilities without losing your dignity – Finding purpose after you’ve lost everything – The books I’ve written and why I wrote them – Your stories—because this isn’t just my voice, it’s ours
**Your Turn**
If you’re reading this and thinking, “He doesn’t know MY story”—you’re right. I don’t. But I know what it feels like to believe you’re beyond help. I know what it feels like to wake up and wonder if today is the day you finally give up. Tell me your story. Not the pretty version. The real one. Comment below, email me at the66voice@gmail.com, or just know that someone out there understands.
**You’re still standing. That means you’re not done yet.**
Welcome to The 66 Voice.
Let’s keep going together. — Calvin Dodson
Seasoned & Still Standing
