Saturday, April 6, 2013

Focal Laryngitis

Since the end of Pessach, I have been suffering from what I am calling "Focal Laryngitis."  I don't have a fever or a runny nose, I simply feel like my entire throat is covered in some crap that prevents me from talking, and causes me to violently cough every time I try to speak and complete a sentence.  My GP assures me it represents the combination of my seasonal allergies, a virus Raphaela must have picked up from Gan, and the freakish sand storm weather that has visited Israel in the last week.

This situation has caused major communication problems with my daughter, who hears my scratchy voice (I like to think of it more as sexy...) and thinks that I am angry at her.  Over the last week and a half, I have answered this question more times than I can count:

Mommy:  (Scratch scratch cough cough)
Raphaela: Are you my friend?
Mommy : (Nodding head furiously, while coughing)
Raphaela:  Are you angry at me?
Mommy:  (In a whisper)  Raphaela, I am your friend and your Mommy.  I love you, but it hurts me very much when I talk.
Raphaela:  (Not believing me) Why?
Mommy:  Why what?
Raphaela:  Why does your throat hurt?

The morning version of this conversation goes like this:

Mommy:  (cough cough cough)
Raphaela:  Mommy, are you still sick?  Will you be able to talk today?
Mommy:  (In a whisper) I don't know, we will have to wait and see.
Raphaela:  Are you my friend?

As a Chiropractor, I make a lousy patient when I am feeling ill, and the last thing I want is for Raphaela to take it personally.  There were at least several days last week that Raphaela arrived at Gan pouting and withdrawn because of my inability to communicate with the spoken word.

Then, to add to the fun, one day last week when I sat in bed resting and slightly bored, I messaged the guy I thought has been my boyfriend for the last several months.  The message read, "Resting in bed, thinking about you."

Silly me!  (Mental picture for your head of me saying "D'oh!" and smacking myself on the forehead)  Several days later, the man/boy called me to tell me that our "tryst" is starting to feel "too much like a real relationship," which he doesn't want.  Unable to truly speak my mind and my heart, I croaked through the phone call and hung up, more dejected than ever.

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