There are many times in our lives when we figuratively and emotionally have no voice.  These can be difficult times, frustrating and angering.  There is much I have to say on that topic and, oh, I will!  However, this essay is not about those times.  This one is about literally and physically having no voice, which happened to me at the end of the year.  While also frustrating and angering at times, I also found it somewhat freeing! 

Scene I:  it’s Monday afternoon of Christmas Eve Eve, the night our neighbors throw their annual holiday party.  I went to spin class in the morning and told Trish afterwards, “I think I need a nap.  And my eyeballs are sweating.”  The former statement is almost a daily affirmation in this household and caused no concern.  That latter, however, is my bodily signal that I’m getting a cold and is never a good sign.  Trish raised her eyebrows, no doubt thinking about the upcoming responsibility of dealing with a sick Sherri.  I get a bit whiney when I’m sick.  And moody.  I alternately cry and yell.  I prefer to be alone and most people prefer to leave me alone when I get this way.

I soldiered through the party and truly had a nice time.  We are lucky to live in a close neighborhood and enjoy each other’s company.  It was loud, though, and I felt like I strained my voice.  I complained as much the next morning and decided to cancel plans with my BFF.  I was headed to Atlanta the day after Christmas, for my Mom’s birthday, and I needed to nip this cold in the bud.

Christmas Day with the in-laws was another solid good time.  I had a glass of water in my hand the whole day and probably drank a gallon and a half of water.  My throat hurt.  I talked minimally.  I allowed no kissing and hugging (which no one minded once they knew my throat hurt).  “Eh,” I thought.  “A little Advil Cold and Flu, NyQuil at night and I’ll be fine.  This will pass quickly.  I’m pretty good at fighting off these viruses.”  I checked in for my flight the next day.

Scene II:  The dawn broke on Thursday and I felt like total crap.  I didn’t want to disappoint my Mom on her birthday (nor kick the can down the road on the To-Do list she had for me) and I knew I wouldn’t be coming home again until early April, so off to the airport we went.  I had a purse full of meds and pockets full of tissues and cough drops.  The person next to me on the flight gave me one of those, “Oh, gee, thanks” looks as I blew my nose and coughed for the umpteenth time in 3 minutes.  I took solace in the fact that I was not the only one on the plane that clearly should have stayed home.  Tis the season.

The Uber dropped me at my sister’s condo about one minute before she got home.  I was standing there dazed, looking at the bed in the guest room when she came in.  I pushed back on a hug and after a few minutes of catching up said, “I really just need to lie down.”  Two hours later I staggered out of the bedroom.  This was not good.  Mom was duly warned via text.

Scene III:  Knowing that I do way better in the morning hours when I am sick, I arrived at my Mom’s apartment in her retirement community by 9:30 the next morning.  We blasted through the electronics To-Do list, which involved the requisite list of iPad/iPhone/printer/FireStick/Soundbar questions (I can usually address half of them; I appreciate my Mom’s faith in my electronic prowess but my knowledge does not go much further than “turn it off and back on again”).  Off we went to Target to switch her phone to Consumer Cellular, then to a local hospital for compression stockings.  She blessedly suggested I just drop her off instead of taking her out to lunch.  I’m sure it was a mixture of concern for me and concern for herself.  Neither of us wanted her catching this bug!  I was back at my sister’s by 1:00 and in bed by 1:01.  My poor sister deserves a medal.  I can be a challenging house guest to begin with but add in my whiney, impatient sick self and I’m sure she was tempted to send me right back to Trish.  I most certainly owe her a set of sheets to replace the ones she probably burned once I left.

Scene IV:  I did not sleep.  I coughed all night.  The coughing HURT.  Searing pain, like I’ve never felt when coughing.  When I woke up Saturday, I had no voice.  None.  Not even a squeak!  And Saturday was the family lunch for Mom’s birthday.  There were 7 of us at a rectangular table for 8.  I sat on one end.  My one sister sat across from me, Mom beside her.  My other sister, her husband, son and his girlfriend took the four seats at the other half of the table, leaving an empty seat beside me.  At first I was a little pissed.  They couldn’t have left the empty seat at the other end of the table?  They had to isolate me like I was sick and contagious……oh wait.  I was!  Fairly quickly, though, I was grateful for the seating arrangements.  I didn’t have to participate in that lunch at all!  Call me a bad sister/aunt/daughter but I was very happy to sit there and partly listen, drink hot tea, and move food around on my plate.  I didn’t feel frustration at wanting to correct blatantly wrong commentary since I couldn’t have voiced my opposition even if I’d wanted to!  I didn’t have to make any small talk!  I zoned out, smiled occasionally, and pulled out my credit card at the appropriate time to pick up my share.  Sometimes, I realized, it’s very nice to not have to talk.

That carried over to the Uber ride to the airport on Monday and may have even helped me get on an earlier flight home (I think the gate agent felt really sorry for me.  And just wanted me to go away and take my germs with me).  No need for small talk on the plane.  I was able to ignore anyone I wanted!  I should not have been so happy.

The frustration returned when I got into the car with Trish and actually wanted to talk for the first time in days.  All told, my voice was completely gone for five full days and barely squeaky for another two.  I remembered when, after Super Storm Sandy hit and I lost electricity for 4 days, how I noticed all the little ways you never realized how much you took power for granted.  Paraphrasing Scarlett O’Hara, I vowed to never to take electricity for granted again!  (But, of course, I do every day.)  Similarly, I was amazed over that week at how much I took having a voice for granted.  But then I also was aware of how having no voice gave permission for a lazy introvert like me to just stay within my head.  There is something to be said for that.

One week later, I am back with the “voiced” albeit still a bit gravely.  I now have no excuse not to answer the phone when it rings (dang) and I can’t just stay in my head.  I’m back to talking back to the TV, which I’m sure Trish is thrilled at (this was a bit of a vacation for her, too).  But that week was a real lesson for me in both privilege and power—topics we will definitely hit on when I talk again about having no voice, but this time figuratively!