Muted

I think somewhere within me I have a country song that starts "Tired of being tired, sick of being sick." Any sense of how the song would go beyond that is depressing and awkwardly rhymed, which I guess is why I assume it would be country.

When I wrote about the cellulitis flare-up I mentioned that a cold had settled in. I was irritated to be sick on Sunday again, because I had just missed church for my leg. Maybe I could have done it the week before. I mean, I was in some pain and on orders to lay low, but at least that is definitely something that is not contagious. Still, it seemed prudent to get a sub that first week, I did, and then the next week I was sicker, but differently, and stayed sicker. One of the things nursery parents compliment me on is my consistency, and I just missed my third week in a row.

The cold kept getting worse. At first it was just a bad cough and tiredness, but there was progress. After a few days of being unproductive, the cough turned productive. Okay, we are on our way out. Fewer coughing fits - though some still strong enough to pull muscles - is progress. In the meantime, I keep resting. Fine, I get it.

Losing my voice has made me think that maybe I did not, in fact, get it.

Here is a fun fact about laryngitis: you can have it up to two weeks before you need to see a doctor about it.

This does not appear to be anything worse than a bad cold. I had one once that lasted for a month. It picked up a nasty secondary infection, but even when antibiotics cleaned up those symptoms, the cold thrived for the entire month. I don't have a fever, there's no chest pain or difficulty breathing, I just can't get rid of this stupid cough or talk.

I don't even have to look for deeper meaning in it. I know that walking around with the shard of glass in my foot for three weeks did a number on my immune system, or I wouldn't have had the cellulitis flare-up. The antibiotics for that could have knocked out some other things. A nasty cold settling in makes perfect sense without needing to send a message.

Except it has been terribly obvious how much my family depends on me and expects me to be able to answer them, regardless of how hard answering is. I have still had to explain many things to my mother, and then fill in my sisters, even though it was a three-day weekend, and everyone was home. It's not that they don't care that I am sick, but they are used to me being able to do it. I am competent and patient and good at stuff, but if I try and do it all it will kill me. That won't be good for anyone.

So I think there are some lessons in this phase of illness too, and I need to figure them out. It's not even about letting other people do things for me now, but it is going to have to be about telling people what they have to do. It will have to go beyond doing things myself because they are easier. I have to sort that out.

I want my voice back.