Don't I look lovely today? Don't answer that question. I already know the answer. I look like crap. Which is fitting because that's exactly the way I feel.
I assume it's a cold. I haven't had a common ordinary run-of-the-mill cold in so many years now that I guess I've forgotten what they are like.
As per usual, I just ignored the tiny itty bitty truly insignificant indicators that I was getting a cold at the start. You know the ones. The very beginnings of some congestion. Easily dismissed. Perhaps there is something I'm allergic to in the air. It was simple enough to ignore. Then there was the occasional sneeze. Well people sneeze. It's nothing. Probably I need to dust was the thought in my head (And probably I do need to dust!)
Shortly thereafter, there was the tiniest bit of fatigue. Well that one is super simple to pretend isn't happening because I'm always tired. That's what happens when you are a chronic insomniac. Tired is my normal state of being so I honestly just do not think about it. I just keep going, doing what I do, living my life, without concerning myself with being tired. It is a non-issue. Except that suddenly I was actually noticing that I was tired. " That's odd", I thought to myself. But, I tucked it away in the back of my brain and kept going.
But yesterday morning when I woke up, Tim said "Good Morning' to me and instead of saying good morning back, I said, "Croak!" What? I cleared my throat. Ooooo tender throat. That's new! I tried again and I croaked again. "Sounds like you are losing your voice" Tim observed. I nodded. Yes it does! That is exactly what it sounded like! I shook my head and jumped into a nice hot shower. "That'll loosen things up", I said to myself. And it did too. Instead of a croak my voice sounded like I was gargling with gravel.
Well, nothing to do about it but let it run it's course really. So I went about my day doing the stuff I do and didn't talk. No matter how many things needed to be said, I kept my trap shut. The laundry got done, the sheets got changed, vaccuming doesn't require any talking, nor does blogging really except when I'm talking to myself out loud, which apparently I do with alarming frequency because I kept starting to say stuff aloud and...well...couldn't!
I took lots of breaks, drank endless cups of hot water, and then the coughing began. Now I am well aware that a cough is a good thing. It's breaking up with yuck in your lungs. The nasty sounded wet cough is actually the best kind. It's called a "productive cough". A tight dry cough - probably the least offensive sounding cough - is actually a far less healthy one. But the good cough, the productive one, sounds revolting. Nobody wants to hear that! It's gross!
The phone rang. Instinctively, I answered it. '' 'Lo " I croaked out. The person on the other end launched immediately into some sort of salespitch. I have to say here that I am usually very polite. Even when it's a telemarketer, I am polite. Usually I say, "No Thank you" and/or "we are not interested". And usually they accept that, thank me, and we both hang up. I know they are just doing their job. And an unpleasant job it is too. The least I can do is listen politely, Say no thank you, politely, and then hang up, again politely. But this time, when I opened my mouth to talk, nothing, literally not one syllable came out. Nada. Until the effort of attempting to push sound out initiated a coughing fit. I think they hung up before I did.
So now I'm making all sorts of unpleasant noises. Sneezing, coughing, wheezing and no doubt, if asleep at this point, snoring. The only sound I am NOT making is talking. Because when I open my mouth to speak, there isn't much coming out that is distinguishable as human speech.
And that is the hardest part for me. There are things I need to say sometimes. Like to Tim when he asks me a question! Or out loud to myself. Like when I stub my toe. Then I have lots of things to say. None of them pretty. And sometimes I have things to say to the TV. Of course those things are usually either pithy observations or snarky commentary. BUT they need to be said! And right now, they have to stay inside my head and it is just so frustrating!
I am verbal. No questions about that. Chatty Cathy has nothin' on me. I am a talker. I will talk to anyone and everyone. Bu I'm also a listener. Social discourse requires both. It's like a volley. They say something, I return, they come back, I respond and so forth. Someone I've met before can occupy me with good conversation for hours. Someone who is a total stranger is good for fifteen minutes minimum.
Right now, however, I can only smile and nod, smile and nod. That doesn't translate very well in a phone call. And it would be incredibly inconsiderate of me to share my germs with the world, so clearly I won't be attempting to converse with anyone outside this house. And sadly, it would only be an attempt anyway because, unless you are a skilled lip-reader, you wouldn't have the first clue what I am trying to say.
So what I'm doing right now is drinking lots of fluids, resting, coughing, sneezing and NOT talking. Not because I don't want to talk you understand, but because I am incapable of speech. So frustrating.
Our house right now is filled with the sound of silence. Simon and Garfunkel levels of silence. I know that Tim is sympathetic to my germ-imposed quietude, still I can't help but believe that deep down inside some place he is probably enjoying the break from my constant chattering.
Eventually my voice will return, the cold will be gone and then, I will make up for lost time. Fair Warning!
I always have a lot to say, just right now I don't have the capability to actually say it. DANG!
Yup, this is me. Some people said, "Sam, you should write a Blog". "Well, there's a thought", I thought to myself. And so here it is.