Look Who's Not Talking

Because I am not a bear and hibernation is not an option, I have to use other methods to get through winter and all the woes that come with it.  Call it what you will - positive thinking, determination, a stubborn streak to rival any mule.  But sometimes it just comes down to good old-fashioned denial.

I suffer from seasonal allergies, which means that every time there is any kind of change in the weather my nose runs.  Because I live in Pittsburgh where the weather can and does change hourly my nose is always running.  Hell, my nose is running an eternal marathon.

So last week, when I started to feel that tell-tale "tickle" in my throat, I still chalked it up to allergies.  Then the tickle started to hurt.  Then the cough started, and before I knew it I was making an emergency run from work to the Sunoco station to buy cough drops.

I could deny it no longer.  This was not just my seasonal allergies.  This was a full blown cough-and-cold.  Things deteriorated from there.  Last weekend became the Lost Weekend.  This cold was kicking my butt.

However, I was sure that if I just rested and took my medication, that I would be fine by Monday, especially since my husband took such good care of me. He insisted that I rest. He made me tea and the best Matzoh soup I'd ever tasted.  I felt even more loved than I felt sick.

When I woke up on Monday, I was even worse, and I realized that I could not talk – my voice was completely gone.  Oh, hell no, this could't be happening, I screamed silently to myself.  I had deadlines to meet at work this week.  I had to sing this weekend with the Pittsburgh Concert Chorale in our classical concert "The Three B's" (Bach, Beethoven and Brahms).

Oh, but it was happening alright.  While I might be able to work without a voice, there was no way that I was going to be able to sing without a voice. Mind you, I decided that I was going to be at that concert, even if I had to lip sync.  If it’s good enough for Beyonce (the fourth B) it’s good enough for me.  But I really wanted to sing at the concert. I started mixing up the salt water rinse, and brewing up the tea with honey and lemon, and didn't even try to talk.

On Tuesday, I was no better, but I didn't want to go to a doctor – it wasn't THAT bad, I insisted.  My husband made a convincing argument that I had been sicker than I usually get with no improvement for four days.  Boy, I wasn't going to be able to deny anything this week was I?  The doctor diagnosed it as viral laryngitis and verified that my self-treatment options were probably the best course of action.  He did prescribe continued complete vocal rest through the end of the week if I hoped to sing in the concert.

Well, I went to work “in person” the rest of the week, and I got everything I needed to do done communicating by e-mail, writing, pantomime, and using a “Talk for Me” app on my I-Pad (there really is an app for everything).  And by the weekend, I was happily singing that glorious music with my friends and fellow Chorale members.

People often find it amusing when I lose my voice because I am talkative, although I never think it's that funny. So, when I returned to work on Wednesday, someone joked about my laryngitis, “Oh, your husband must be LOVING it.”  I couldn't grab a pen and paper fast enough to write down the truth.

Actually, when my husband came home from work on Monday, he looked at me sadly, and said, “I miss hearing your voice.”  It was the best moment of the whole week.