The Sound of Silence

It’s a silly life we lead. Truly it is. It has been a very interesting fall and winter, and we just keep plugging along like people tend to do.

But the most bizarre thing of all? I lost my voice.

“Oh, it’s just a little bit of laryngitis,” you say.

“Oh, stop your whining!” you say.

But no. It’s not. And I won’t. Because without the ability to talk, writing is the only way to free my thoughts from the prison that is my head. I feel like my brain might explode from all the thoughts I can’t get out.

Five weeks ago, on January 2, I awoke with a weak and raspy voice. I felt completely fine otherwise, so I headed in to work. But as the day progressed, my voice became weaker and weaker; and by the end of the day it was practically gone.

And it has been gone ever since. Day 36.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve gone almost all of 2014 like this. I hear my voice in my dreams at night, and I wake up sad. I’m still trying to decide if I “think” in my voice….I honestly can’t remember what it used to sound like.

Some days are worse than others. On good days I sound like Mickey Mouse, and on bad days the very strain of trying to whisper sounds like a cat gagging on a hair ball.

“Joy, you sound like you smoke 40 packs of cigarettes a day,” my friend said this evening while we attempted to catch up by phone.

Ryan and I went out on a dinner date the first weekend in January, and the waitress cast bewildered glances at Ryan when she couldn’t understand my order. Thankfully, he jumped right in and commenced his duties as “voice surrogate,” as he calls it. But as we waited for our food, he couldn’t hear me above the din of the other restaurant guests, so we gave up on conversation altogether and retreated to our I-Phones for entertainment.

I did some online research and wasn’t really concerned for the first week. I gargled salt water and breathed over steam and sucked on cough drops and rubbed Vicks on my neck and feet – all the stuff they say to do. But nothing made it any better. In fact, it seemed worse. At the end of the second week, I’d had enough. I made an appointment to see my doctor. A strep test ended up negative, and the doctor said it was most likely a virus that needed to run its course.

Every day that passed was more frustrating than the last. It is exhausting to live life without a voice.  Communication is hindered no matter where I go. It doesn’t make sense to answer the phone or make calls. Because I feel fine, sometimes I forget. So when the phone rings at work, I pick it up, and then immediately I regret it. They can't hear me or understand me, and my throat becomes sore from the strain of trying. It’s extremely difficult (and embarrassing) to order at the drive-through, too. When we’re watching TV, Ryan mutes it when I have a comment to share.  In the car, Ryan and Ryley can’t hear me above the noise of the road, so I just sit quietly and hear what they have to say. (Not that that’s a bad thing!)

“Sounds like you’re getting sick!” says the cashier at the grocery store.

“Miss Joy, you still don’t have a voice?” says my piano student.

“Did you say something? I’m haunted by your whispers,” says my boss as he passes my office door.

“Ah, did you cheer too hard for the Broncos this weekend?” says everybody nearly every day.

I’m pretty sure the contractor and carpet guy that have been working on our house for the last month think that my voice is naturally hoarse.

But after three and a half weeks, I was really getting concerned. I still didn’t have any other symptoms that made me think I was fighting a cold; the whole thing was just bizarre. No amount of chicken pho soup or herbal teas would bring any relief. The more I googled, the more I started seeing articles about “chronic laryngitis” and “cancer.” Ryan tried to ban me from using WebMd. Basically, I learned that any time laryngitis lasts longer than three weeks, it is a sign of a deeper problem. A friend of ours was even diagnosed as having a paralyzed vocal cord recently, and that freaked me out.

So I called my doctor’s office, and they agreed that I should see an ear/nose/throat specialist. They got me in last Friday, and Ryan came along just in case there was anything serious. I loved the ENT…

“Are you sure you want her to get her voice back?” he joked with Ryan, right before sticking a tube up my nostril and down the back of my throat.

As it turns out, I have Chronic Reflux Laryngitis, which can develop when stomach acid from acid reflux backs up your esophagus and irritates your voicebox and vocal cords, causing everything to swell. I didn’t know I had acid reflux; it’s not painful, and I don’t have trouble with heartburn. But now that I’ve done my due research, I see that I had signs and symptoms of acid reflux for months and maybe even years but didn’t know it was a problem.

The ENT doctor gave me two medicines to take and said I may not see improvement for 4-6 weeks. My new friends in the online articles report that some cases last six months.

I’m glad it’s nothing super serious, but it is a frustrating journey I’m still walking through. Let’s say it does last six months….At what point does an employer say, “I’m sorry, but we really need our office manager to be able to speak and answer the phone.” Are there disability benefits for that? I can’t effectively teach piano or Sunday School like this; I can’t conduct interviews for my freelance writing. I miss singing.

I long for my life to make sense. I want to learn what I'm supposed to learn in this season.  But sometimes you can't pen a cutesy little blog to wrap up the last few months, with a nice little moral at the end. Sometimes there isn't a moral. Sometimes it's just life.

A friend texted me the other day and asked how life was going. I was vague in my answer because how do you say, “It sucks; I have laryngitis” without sounding like a drama queen? I’m sick of drama.

“If you need to talk, I’m here,” was her sweet response.

If only.