What Happens to Girls Who Talk Too Much

7:30 AM

If you were to interrupt one of my mornings or evenings this past week, you would see strange things. You would see a paper bag full of tissues and their empty boxes; you would find cups and straws and days-old water; you would notice an army of medicine at attention on our kitchen island.

You would probably find me underneath a pale blue towel, inhaling eucalyptus oil and steam, trying my best not to do a Darth Vader impression. Now, to be sure, it's no fun being sickly (which is more of a "prone to being sick" than actual sickness itself, in my etymological opinion): but when you're sixteen and have to take on the world, it's not a matter of fun or not fun. It's a war zone.

Particularly when one must try out for a play and has approximately three days to chase away a cold. I have an interesting history with illness and plays. The last performance of the last play I was in (a very, very long time ago, I assure you), I had a fever and a horrible sick feeling to my stomach. (That was due to Seven-Up and angel food cake the night before, I believe.) Bright lights, hot costumes, bouncing around happily onstage and having to stand up for ten minutes while everyone else selfishly took the only seats on set...recipe for disaster. I sat backstage with my head in my arms and ate one Cheezit. Bad idea.

But I did have a good dose of self-pity to keep me going. Seeing that, you know, other people weren't particularly gungho about doing the pitying for me.

And then there was the time when I lost my voice and filmed an elaborate retelling of Sarah Whitcher's Story. The movie is particularly funny to watch when I'm in the scenes, my voice fluctuating from gravel to squeak.

I was talking of my recent illness. More specifically, I was about to recount the single handed heroism against cough and laryngitis. It involved me bravely staying put in bed, cancelling all my appointments for the week, missing out on all the fun, drinking too much water and orange juice and swallowing a handful of pills three times a day. Elderberry and echinacea, however, can only do so much.

I lost that battle, only to make a bright recovery the morning of the auditions, do a questionably spectacular job at my solo (colds do make one prone to warbling -- no comment) and consequently lose my voice two hours later.

Well, since I had no more singing or speaking arrangements for the rest of the week, I didn't mind so much. It's just rather embarrassing to rely on whispering or squeaking -- or silence. Can you imagine the utter cruelty of silencing a voluble soul? It cut me to the quick, yes, it did.

And I had to be silent, for I remembered I had a youth rally that Saturday and I wanted to talk. Very badly. And I had to talk Sunday too. I had to, you know; I really did. So I laid out my strategy: I zipped my lips...sort of. And I pulled down all three of our health books and looked up laryngitis.

One was very hopeful and gave several things to do to conquer this horrid croakiness. Another one wasn't; it regretfully informed me that voice loss was very resistant to medical care. I didn't listen to it. I breathed steam. I gargled a cup of salt water (though one book disdained such a practice). I forgot pleasantness and swallowed weak tea, lemon juice and honey. And I did it again in the morning.

I talked. I'm still talking. And I doubt not that I shall be talking again tomorrow.

(p.s. Do please refrain from all "Aw, so sorry to hear you were sick" comments. They won't do any good, for one thing, as I am no longer sick and don't plan on being so for a long time. A hero can only sally out so many times in one month.)

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8 impressions

  1. I'm glad you've got your voice back and that you're feeling better. I do so enjoy listening to all your thoughts and ideas! Now, don't stop taking good care of yourself--drink plenty of water, get enough sleep, eat well, exercise--you've got a lot of things coming up, as you know.
    Love ya, Mom

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  2. I have a long and colorful history with losing my voice.

    As a child, I would lose my voice and my mother would beg me "just rest your voice, Chris!" But I would keep whispering steadfastly.

    As a teen, I would lose my voice and my mother would beg me "just rest your voice, Chris!" But I would gravel on, talking AND singing, convinced that maybe my low crumbly voice could make millions.

    As a young mother, I lost my voice when working as a bank teller and had to put up a sign that said "How may I help you? (I've lost my voice.)" ...which didn't make my supervisors happy, but couldn't be helped, because it really was totally gone that time.

    Two years ago, I lost my voice around the time that my youngest child was very sick. More exhausted than usual, I became convinced one night that maybe I had congestion in my lungs, and rather than succumb to pneumonia and leave my children without a mother, I would relentlessly hack up every ounce of drainage I could feel. The result was a bunch of wounded vocal chords that took a month to heal. Oh, the stupidity of sleep deprivation!

    And then last year, I lost my voice 5 times. Not the normal once-a-year routine. Five.times. On the fifth time, my good friend Edie made me go to the doctor. It turns out that *that* year, my voice loss was due to repeat bouts of sinus infection, not laryngitis. A round of heavy-duty antibiotics, and I was free of repeat vocal loss.

    I feel your pain. Oh, how I feel your pain. I love to talk. Love to sing. The children don't understand when I can't sing them to sleep, so I have to croak them to sleep, until a few days later, nary a whisper remains and everybody's sad. Especially me.

    Thank you for showing me I'm not alone. That there exists another girl who talks too much and sometimes has to rest her voice. It is indeed a comfort.

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  3. -- awww...so sorry you were sick --

    *wink*

    Ironic how you (who complained over your "terrible" song) got one of the main parts because your voice was so beautiful - even though you were hoarse. (It honestly sounded fine, although you have convinced yourself otherwise...)

    As for moi, I'll stick with the raspberry leaf tea instead of the honey and whatever. *cough*

    *hugs*

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  4. lol M'dear Bailey, 'tis NEVER fun to be sick with ANYTHING. 'Tall, infact.

    - Getting laryngitis..Didn't Elenea get that when they were doing the last play, and like Kelsey had to fill in for her...

    Glad you are quite well, now! :D

    Don't you wish, that someone would come up with some sort of medicine that you could take and NEVER get a cold? :D Except, I heard/read "colds, come from mannnnyyy different viruses so thus, no one can create a thing for it.". :(( Oh well. :d

    Kara

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  5. Aw, so sorry to hear you were sick.

    Flop, stole my idea. When I read that part, I knew I was going to say it. You know me. Miss Contradictive. No comment on the spelling, please. If it's write, then you ken.

    Bailey, you have to tell us when you're driving test is. So we can all pray for you. Right, girls?

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  6. I know exactly what you mean! I'm extremely talkative, outgoing and social, and on top of that I love to sing (laryngitis is a HUGE hindrance for that!). :-) I lost my voice just a couple of months ago, and although it's always a horrible annoyance, I'm reminded at how much I take for granted - especially my voice. Thank you Lord for the 'simple' gift of being able to speak! :-D

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  7. OOOOOOOOH, Bayleaf. Was it all that bad? Surely it was an interesting experience - if nothing else was good about it. :D I know - being sick is NOT fun. But I'm glad your back to normal again! (Except for that little cough.)

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  8. Oh, boy! I didn't know all that you went through to blast that cold out of orbit....but it was worth it! You did great at auditions (the results show) and you are going to do a sensational job at the performances. :)

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