The Bailey Blog

It’s not any big shocking revelation that’s left me without a word to utter – it’s laryngitis. For those of you who’ve never had it, the simple explanation is that due to complications from a cold, sometimes your voice box (the larynx) becomes irritated and swollen and before long you can’t even squeak.

It was frustrating to hear my voice deteriorate, but I had no idea how bad it could be until I lost it completely. As I’m writing this, I’m officially on day five of zero voice. For a few days, I had a scratchy, late-night telephone informant kind of voice – and I apparently overused it.

Being without a voice has given me an interesting lesson in communication. I’ve often touted the mantra to my MSU students that “communication is about the recipient’s needs, not the sender’s.” I’ve really had to examine that the past few days as I’ve struggled with ways to get my messages across to people.

Having email, and instant access to it on my mobile phone, has been a great help. And I can use instant messaging with some friends and coworkers. However, I’ve unfortunately discovered that neither I nor my girlfriend are very good at charades and our feeble attempts at some form of sign language is downright embarrassing. Still, we have managed to master the signs for “You stink at charades.”

Since losing my voice, I’ve attended two holiday parties and went to the mall for Christmas shopping. The parties were interesting. I’ve never been a fan of small talk, but I discovered that what’s even worse is not being able to participate in small talk. You can only make so many different facial expressions before people think you’re not only speechless but you’ve got some form of brain damage going on as well.

At the mall, I nodded or shook my head politely to sales clerks, only to discover that when folks meet someone who can’t talk, they assume they’re deaf, too. I didn’t bother to write them a note telling them that if they speak louder it will not help me speak back.

On the other end of the spectrum are the people who start speaking quieter when they realize I can’t talk. Just because my voice is malfunctioning doesn’t mean you have to whisper, too. It just occurred to me that maybe they are speaking in normal tones now, whereas they usually have to be louder to be heard over me. I better make a note of that.

Communicating really is a two-way street, but thanks to the laryngitis, I’ve discovered there is some truth to the idea that it should be more about the receiver. I’ve had to work extra hard to get my message across in ways other than verbal communication. I’ve learned that when I can’t really respond to what someone is telling me, I actually listen instead of being distracted by thinking about what I’m going to say next. Also, I’ve been a lot more selective about how much I’m communicating because some stuff can just wait until I have a voice again. Or maybe by then I’ll realize it wasn’t really that interesting to begin with.

In the meantime, I’ve started my research into learning sign language in case this ever happens again. And then, it’s on to my charades lessons.