Speechless

(Please note the date above is the date I started writing this blog - way back in March. This goes to show how often I thought about posting, but never did...)

Three weeks ago, I was diagnosed with viral laryngitis. (Yay for working in a hospital with sick kids).

(Look how sad I am as I point to my inflamed voice box)

I attempted to go to work, both Monday and Tuesday that week, and was promptly sent back home. Not because I was contagious, but because I was basically worthless. I could not introduce myself or child life services to my patients and their families. I could not prepare them for surgery, nor support them through invasive procedures. Can you imagine me whispering "now take a deep breath, and squeeze mommy's hands," when the patient is trying to out-match Metallica in a screaming contest?

The list of things I couldn't do continued. I couldn't answer the phone when my nurses called me to bring activities to a room, and eventually even the student I'm training gave up trying to decipher my homemade sign language. I thought since I was part Italian and speak with my hands, that might work, but I guess it didn't. By the way, If you went to Italy, how would you know who was signing and who was simply speaking? Hmmm. Anyway, I was sent home, and told I had to call a doctor before I could return. Yuck. However, this is where my aha moment began...

Being somewhat new in Austin, I do not have a primary care physician. I called the first provider listed on my insurance, and tried to explain that I needed to see a doctor. It took me two minutes to squeeze out "I lost my voice." The receptionist heard a mix between a dying cow and squawking goose, and asked me to please speak up. I attempted again, and exasperated she stated something was wrong with the connection , because she just couldn't hear me. I wanted to tell her that I was what was wrong with the connection, but that would have taken six more minutes. So I hung up and drove to the office - still in the jammies I had changed into after leaving work - and walked up to the receptionist' s desk. When I opened my mouth and only a squawk came out, she smiled and handed me a clipboard and a pen. 1/2 hour later, I had my laryngitis diagnosis, a prescription to drink lemon tea with honey, and doctor's orders to not speak for 24 hours. My larynx beat you to your order, Doc...

Back in my car, I picked up my phone to call a friend I was supposed to meet up with. Only, mid-ring I realized I wouldn't be able to talk with her, so I hung up. I stopped at the grocery store, and when the cashier asked how my day was, I whispered an answer, but she couldn't hear me. She stopped checking my groceries to lean in to hear me, and the shopper behind me glared impatiently in my direction. As I walked out to my car with my cough drops and lemons, it dawned on me how much my life would have to change if I never got my voice back.

I know it would be hard for me to listen so much. Instead of asking my coworker how her weekend went, I tend to walk into work Monday mornings and tell her why I am exhausted, due to the temple-trip/B-B-Q/grocery-shopping/had-to-help-my-friend-move-and-game-night-Saturday, followed by my Relief-Society-meeting/had-to-do-my-visiting-teaching/be-home-taught/prepare-a-lesson/make-salad-for-the-linger-longer-and-then-stay-for-the-fireside-Sunday. Oh yah, not to mention I woke up at 5am to work out/make my bed.... oh sorry, where was I? Case in point. I'd have to learn to listen, and learn to be okay with silence.

Second, I would have to set aside my pride and learn to text. Now, I can text, but do so with one finger, and have to store up motivation and energy to reply to one when I get it - (No joke, it will take me at least five minutes).

I'd have to concentrate hard on my handwriting, to make it legible. Once, when I was writing some words on a chalkboard for a Sunday School lesson, someone in class asked if I had ever considered becoming a kindergarten teacher. Flattered, I asked why, and she said I wrote like one. A kindergarten teacher? I inquired. No, she replied - a kindergartner. Oh.

Moving on, I guess I have to tag this one on for my mom: Since I'd be writing more, I'd have to learn to spell correctly. If I could succesfully...sucessfuly...ssuuccessffullyy do it, she and all my English teachers would be so proud! (If you aren't sure about a word, just throw in two of each letter and you should cover all your bases...)

I'd have to keep my body language in check. Several years ago, after a particularly frustrating morning trying to get three kids dressed and out the door, I noticed the four-year-old boy I nannied for staring at me. Cautiously, he asked if I was mad at him, and in the calmest voice I could muster, I said no. I needed him to believe I was calm and in control. He cocked his head and looked at me and asked, "then why is your face mad?"

Not only do actions speak louder than words, but I've come to realize that body language shouts over anything we try to say.

Finally, I'd have to find a way to communicate a lot of information (more than can fit in a text) to a lot of people at one time so that I could stay connected with others. Oh wait...that would be called a blog!

Since you all know how often I update this blog :), you will be pleased to know I have beat laryngitis, and my voice has returned, full force. Hopefully, a little fuller of wisdom and silence as well...

(Just so you can see how excited I was...)