I am a verbal person. There are just no two ways to look at it. If I don't talk, I feel as if our bright, happy world is becoming a miserable chasm of doom. I have heard that suffering can teach you a lot. Well, it's true. Laryngitis definately is teaching me that if I was ever in a prisoner of war camp and given the choice to keep either my eyeballs or my tongue, I would know how to respond.
I also have experienced the realization that I talk A LOT. I am a somewhat compulsive talker. Even when I can screech out no more than a dull wheezing whisper, I talk. When I sound like the offspring of a goose and a donkey with whooping cough, I talk. When no noise at all is sailing forth, I talk.
I actually had a lovely whispering conversation with somebody last night. It was quite enjoyeable as it had the air of being a highly mysterious and secretive exchange of cladnestine topics although the subject matter rested largely on the technicalities of indoor soccer and the indigestibility of poutine.
A funny thing I have observed as a result of my infirmity is that if you neglect to preface your greeting with "I lost my voice, that's why I'm whispering," whoever you speak with automatically drops their voice to a barely audible undertone, similar to your own.
I have also observed that laryngitis has outragiously bad timing. Case example: onset of laryngitis a few tender hours before the interview I was rather anxious to appear professional in. No matter how you look at, larygitis simply does not come across as professional.
All in all, even the worst things can teach you a lesson. I have learned mine, and I dare say I'm ready to talk again. When that happens, I am going to stand on my deck and sing O Canada at the top of my oh so ready lungs.
I also have experienced the realization that I talk A LOT. I am a somewhat compulsive talker. Even when I can screech out no more than a dull wheezing whisper, I talk. When I sound like the offspring of a goose and a donkey with whooping cough, I talk. When no noise at all is sailing forth, I talk.
I actually had a lovely whispering conversation with somebody last night. It was quite enjoyeable as it had the air of being a highly mysterious and secretive exchange of cladnestine topics although the subject matter rested largely on the technicalities of indoor soccer and the indigestibility of poutine.
A funny thing I have observed as a result of my infirmity is that if you neglect to preface your greeting with "I lost my voice, that's why I'm whispering," whoever you speak with automatically drops their voice to a barely audible undertone, similar to your own.
I have also observed that laryngitis has outragiously bad timing. Case example: onset of laryngitis a few tender hours before the interview I was rather anxious to appear professional in. No matter how you look at, larygitis simply does not come across as professional.
All in all, even the worst things can teach you a lesson. I have learned mine, and I dare say I'm ready to talk again. When that happens, I am going to stand on my deck and sing O Canada at the top of my oh so ready lungs.
