Quiet time

It’s Monday afternoon and I’ve just come home from work. Yes, early. You see, I can’t talk.

This is quite the disaster for me. As you may or may not know, I am a talker. (I am a hand talker too, but that’s not what this post is about.) So for me to be voiceless is very, very difficult.

It started on Saturday night. PG and I were at a downtown hotel for his company’s Christmas party. The music was so terribly loud (and terribly terrible, but again, that’s not what this post is about.) that to chat with the person beside you, you had to pretty much yell. I spent a lot of time out of the room and in the foyer, but the loud music permeated there as well, so more yelling ensued. I packed it in just before midnight, aware that my voice already was hoarse at that point.

I didn’t think it would get worse. It did. Sunday I could barely croak a word. PG was delighted! But with liberal periods of silence and much hot tea, it came back somewhat. It was gravelly and faded in and out, but I could carry on a conversation by Sunday evening.

This morning, it was still like that. I thought that I could get through the day reasonably well, as I have so much end-of-term assessment, marking and lots of other paperwork to do that I really didn’t want to miss any work. However, in the process of giving a few kids individual reading assessments, my voice just disappeared. I had nothing. And I know, from past experience, that even whispering strains the vocal chords once this point is reached. I knew I was done, assessment, marking and paperwork notwithstanding.

So I booked off sick for the afternoon and for tomorrow as well and I came home.

Crap. I feel absolutely fine other than I can’t talk. I know that the only remedy for this is time to completely rest my vocal chords. There’s really no way around it.

And now I have no more excuses to avoid doing my Christmas baking.

Advertisements

10 responses to “Quiet time

  1. butter tarts are very much okay.
    … oh just read your response to Jazz. that’s okay. I just ate a whole Toblerone (yes, one of those giant ones) so I can wait until you stop snivelling, er sniffling
    then can you make nanaimo bars? please?

  2. My ex, and elementary teacher, used to regularly contract laryngitis. Made for a quiet house. Meanwhile, as it comes back you’ll start to sound sultry and sexy like Lauren Bacall in her glory days.

    • mrwriteon – I think laryngitis is an occupational hazard of teaching. That and permanent leg bruises from walking into desks … or is that just me?

  3. Butter tarts?!?!!? I’m hopping a plane too, right now. I’m like VS, no need to talk.

    • Jazz – I’m sorry to have to tell you and VioletSky that as of this morning, the laryngitis thing has morphed into a lovely cold, complete with wicked coughing spells. I really can’t bake while I’m blowing my nose and coughing up a storm, so I’m afraid that project is now on hold. Maybe this weekend? Check the flights!

  4. Get baking and I’ll be right over. I am not a talker so I don’t mind the quiet.
    But I do wonder at the point of the loud – and terrible – music?

    • VioletSky – It really was bad! Although the demographic was – ahem – mostly us older folk, they kept playing unidentifiable techno crap that nobody was dancing to, not even the twenty-somethings. Between that, the volume at which it was played, AND the extreme distortion of the crap sound system they had, I doubt anyone was actually enjoying the music (and I almost hesitate to call it “music”).

      Oh – and I think I’ll start with butter tarts. That okay with you?

  5. How very frustrating; I hope the vocal chords recover quickly.

    • Alienne – Thanks! Usually, two days of silence does the trick: then I’ve got a raspy, sexy voice (well, I think it’s sexy. PG just laughs.) that I’d love to keep, but that lasts only four or five more days, then it’s business as usual. In the meantime, there will be MUCH emailing and texting around here!