No, not in a dramatic ‘freedom of expression’ kind of way but literally.
One night I’m happily seated on a gigantic hotel bed eating ice cream and watching movies at midnight. The next morning when I wake up I can’t swallow or breathe because it feels like a knife is turning inside my throat.
Thing is, I talk. A lot. Apparently I could speak full sentences by the time I was 7 months old and let’s just say I improved on that. So it wasn’t funny when by late evening my voice started cracking like that of a pubescent boy’s and then disappeared altogether.
Having spent the day in a hot city where fruity popsicles mocked me, I unfortunately had to catch a flight the same evening. Got home yesterday past 4 am and was in office at 9 with only about 2 hours of sleep.
By 11 am I was frantically checking for doctors online. Anyone who knows me would know that is completely out of character. Usually I’m dragged kicking and screaming like a 3 year old. Or tricked and kidnapped like earlier this year when a friend took me to the hospital with bronchitis. Which, in my defense, I didn’t know I had.
God bless e-channeling because by 12.30 I was seated in front of a doctor who threatened me with all kinds of tests and swabs and finally gave me a cocktail of steroids which I’m hoping will also cure some of my other health issues.
After 3 painful days, the elusive voice is now returning in an unpredictable series of squeaks and husky whispers. Its like I had Minnie Mouse for lunch and Melissa Etheridge for dessert.
It’s a scary feeling by the way, this losing your voice business. Also horribly inconvenient.
In the meantime I’m craving cold things. I’d kill for a jumbo jolly. Really I would.