Phoenix

Today was day ten without a voice. I have to say it's a little weird that in the same month I lost my voice, a dancer friend broke her ankle, and a very discerning artist friend who's hard on herself lost part of her breast. What is it we are supposed to be learning? Maybe it's how to survive without something to which we are very attached.

But I think we are all not to be separated from them forever. When I woke up I had a feeling. I saved my voice all day, and when Colin came home I knew it. I knew I'd be able to talk.

"Hhhhhhhi!" I honked. "hhhhwelcmhhhhhmmehhh!" OK he can only understand every other word, and it's really more of a duck imitation with some consonants worked in, but it is a voice. Later I discovered I had five whole notes I could sustain...actually sing...sort of sing...right, smack in the middle of my voice. No high, no low. But it's a voice.

Before I move back into the world of the voiced, there are a few things I must admit I will miss about my period silence. Perhaps this is what I have learned.

One: Not talking with credit card companies, insurance companies, or people who want to rent our house. Not that I have anything against the latter, it's just that I get anxious when they ask for a rate and I have to pull out my calculator and get on our website because I've forgotten the rates and come up with something. And I'm self conscious about sounding too desperate. That people pleaser comes out and it's hard to hide.

Two: Not having to think about what I'm going to say next in any conversation.

Three: The fact that when I do have to communicate, I have to do it face to face. Closely. This is especially poignant with Colin. There's no calling from the kitchen, "Do you know where the lids to those containers are?"

Instead I have to move, across the whole apartment, if necessary, to wherever he is, with container, get right up in his face and whisper, very verrrry softly because I know raspy whispering is bad for the voice... "These c's...lid?"

Likewise he must come to me. If what he says is important enough to need an answer, he's aware that he needs to come near me. It takes his utmost concentration to understand me. I've commanded his...attention, yes, that's it.... every time I wish to "speak" to him, we must look one another in the eye and make the information pass between us.

I've noticed his retention rate of what I say has actually gone UP since I've had no voice. I love it. How ironic.

Now that I have a few noises back, there is the rest of me. I haven't felt so close to having mono since I had it. I keep thinking, has this something to do with the new medication, Plequenil? Dr. Rackoff insists not, but I was exposed to a - cold. The sniffles for three days in my dad's case, a slightly more bronchial thing for Colin which took maybe a week. Others I know have lost their voices for 2-3 days, but not 10.

I slept 'till after noon today - Solid. I was dreaming of this bird who had a double set of wings, and could fly like a normal or a humming bird. Twin orange feathers made a triangle of a white tuft on her tail, and when she turned to speak to me the face was dark, like an owl's. And then she spoke to me without speaking.

Perhaps like the bird I am meant to fly at two different speeds. And communicate sans words for a little bit longer.