Dropping Your Speech
Earlier this weekend I dropped my voice. I was not ill. Somewhat, I experienced “severe voice strain” from yelling quite fully and in a panic-stricken manner at our two large dogs, who have been having a violent battle over a tennis ball.At first I was just yelling to try to get their attention and make sure they are quit to grab each other’s throats out. Nevertheless when I found blood, my screaming became higher, more hysterical, and high pitched as I envisioned a new episode of MTV’s “Celebrity Death Match” between my two beloved pets.My partner ultimately heard my cries of distress and, being the TRUE alpha dog in this house, got between the dogs and broke up the fight.But the harm was done. Obviously, supporting that volume of shrieking for over 15 seconds may harm one’s vocal cords. Who knew?For people who know me well, this was a catastrophic event. It had been related in catastrophicity to a concert pianist breaking each of her hands, or even a professional player destroying his preferred plaid pants.My voice is my device. I am a talker by occupation, and seldom an instant goes by when I don’t exercise my gift. I actually talk in my sleep! Therefore getting up on Saturday morning with absolutely NO VOICE was no small matter. It was HUGE!Yes, yes, for my man my voice was a blessing, for which he really has not ended thanking God (even while my voice starts to return). And yes, of course, the unique opportunity afforded me an original chance to exercise the highly overrated “art of listening.”All of this does work. But also for the most part, it was just a huge discomfort in the arse. However, I decided to make the best of things, as I am wont to do, and in the act I discovered several important lessons.For occasion, on a strange but pointless note, when people find out that you can’t speak, they often SHOUT at you. And you, unable to talk, are ergo rendered unable to tell them that you are not deaf, nor can you ask them to turn down the amount somewhat. Amazing trend, and very frustrating. All you can do is laugh and keep your hands in your ears.And if you attempt to whisper something to someone out of dire need (that we later found out was a no-no ~ whispering plainly strains the speech more than speaking) then people have an overwhelming need to whisper back to you. It’s contagious. And type of interesting. Try it sometime.One advantage of losing one’s voice and just to be able to speak in a sound is that everyone stops and pays close attention to you, something I’m not used to even at the very best of times. Even if I had nothing specially important to state, an important, deep, spiritual dialogue could be delivered by me to an entire halt by mouthing something to someone.ME: xxxxx xxxx xxxxBOB: Shhhhhh! SHE ADDRESSES! She is ATTEMPTING TO SPEAK! WHAT WAS THAT? TRY AGAIN!ME: I like bacon.Most importantly (and painfully) I discovered that while a lame, deaf or blind person would never be never publicly ridiculed by people, short-term mutes are evidently fair game. Quite simply, it is politically correct to mock and ridicule a person who has lost the capability to speak.I was repeatedly and sniggeringly questioned to “speak up” by friends and colleagues who were well conscious of my predicament, and yelled at by the teenaged drive-through employee at a local fast food establishment.Okay, I will provide you with this 1. What was I doing in a Fast Food Drive-Thru? Well, feel it or not, before I remembered that I couldn’t talk, I got myself boxed in by other cars in front of the buying container (one car behind me, a line in front of me ).BOX: MAY I HAVE YOUR ORDER PLEASE?ME: I will have a with a, no xxxx, and a, hold the xxxx.BOX: WHAT????ME: I will have a with a, no xxxx, and a, hold I CAN’T HEAR YOU! CAN YOU PLEASE SPEAK UP!?ME: I lost my xxxxx and I will not xxxxx. I’m therefore xxxxx.BOX:Much to my humiliation, a year old with acne and a paper cap arrived of the right back door of the place to see what the problem was. Right now the point facing me is all but gone, and the people behind me are manifest and looking me dead, but it’s too late for me to put away.KID: Ma’am is there a problem?ME: YES! I lost my xxxxx and can not xxxxx xxxxx for you xx notice xx.KID: What???ME: I — lost — my — voice — and — can’t — speak — any — louder.KID: YOU LOST YOUR VOICE?ME:KID: AND SOMETHING IS WRONG TOGETHER WITH YOUR NOSE??ME: I — lost — my — voice….KID: YOU LOST YOUR VOICE AND YOU ARE ATTEMPTING TO ORDER FOOD IN A DRIVE THRU. ME:KID: OKAY, MA’AM, CAN YOU PLEASE PULL OVER TO THE SIDE AND LET THESE OTHER, SPEAKING PEOPLE, CONTINUE ON THROUGH THE LINE AND WE’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU OVER THERE.I can’t speak, and he is already pointing the massive traffic jam behind me like he is obtaining flights on the deck of an carrier ~ so I can’t show the little Nazi that I made a blunder, that I got stuck in the point before I remembered I could not discuss. I can’t tell him that I’ll just leave and consume a butter and jelly sandwich at home wallowing in my shame.No, I am caught now, pulling over to the part of the line where the people who’ve the nerve to purchase enough food for an entire team are banned, and where, significantly to my further shame, the director (a year old with acne and a paper cap) walks purposefully over to my car with one of those plastic picture-menus they use with people who can’t read.I dejectedly point at symbol for the burger with cheese, and then make an at a large Coke. The supervisor SHOUTS the order back at me to verify it, I nod grimly, and then he SHOUTS how much I owe him.He returns a few minutes later with my food, and all but pats me on the top before he walks back to rule his empire of speaking people.
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