Thoughts on My Gradual Loss of Voice

Those who have seen me over the last little while probably have at least some knowledge of this, but for those who don't, I've been having some major issues with my voice as of late. It's to the point now where if there's more than three people in a room, you probably can't hear me talk. The question that invariably follows my squeaky attempts at talking is "what is it?" or "is it laryngitis?" The answer to that is, frankly, I don't know. My doctor seems to think it's some sort of virus. I tend not to agree with him (I've had a tendency of losing my voice for years). But really, no one knows. I'm going in for a biopsy in December, so hopefully that yields some answers.

My early response to this affliction was a mix of optimism ("it'll go away!") and feelings of minor irritation. It's just something I have to deal with for now and then it will get better. And then, after a couple of months of things not getting better (but rather, worse), I started to consider the possibility that this wasn't a temporary affliction--that even if whatever was bothering me was fixed, I still may never have a full voice again. Always the optimist, I thought "I'll always have the written word." I recalled The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. That guy wrote a book and all he could do was blink. I can still take pen to paper, type, send communications by way of punching... "Loss of voice? Is that the best you can do, universe?"

After a little over six months of this, I'm still in a similar place. But I've also started to realize the full implications of being voiceless. Things like quips, for example, are a thing of the past. Nobody laughs when nobody hears you. I'm also more selective about what I say. I have to avoid complicated social exchanges with people I don't know, to prevent any confusion or the inevitable awkwardness of someone not hearing you three times. I'm often the subject of pity, which is a mixed blessing. It is kind of heartwarming to see total strangers being so kind and empathetic towards something even I don't fully understand. But on the other hand, being on the receiving end of pity has a way of making you feeling a certain kind of pathetic. It's also made me a less attractive person (not in the sexual attractiveness way, because no affliction in the world can hide this raw sex appeal). I've noticed good friends hesitating to start a conversation because of the vocal barriers involved. Meeting people for a beer or a tea or just having a good, thoughtful conversation, which are usually my favourite things to do, are now almost not worth it. Furthermore, written communication has a number of barriers, like a misunderstanding of tone, the absence of accompanying body language... and the fact that some people just aren't great at communicating through reading and writing.

I'm very aware that things could be a lot worse and I'm quite thankful for every other part of me that is fully functional. I can't even begin to count the number of ways in which I'm lucky, and I'm certainly not trying to complain. I just thought some people might want to know what is going on and what my thought process has been on it, since I haven't been too vocal about it (pun intended).