(the set-up)
Once upon a time, I left cold and snowy Rexburg at the beginning of April to visit the pleasantly temperate Las Vegas with my jump rope team. Sin City over General Conference weekend, oh the irony.
(the irony)
Oh you want the real irony? I caught a cold.
Actually, half of our dozen got sick. All with something different. Or mostly different. Some with migraines, some with colds, one with an ear infection, and two throwing up for no reason. Yeah, and we still had 2 days, 6 assemblies, and 2 workshops to get through. Let alone the travel time to St. George and Mesquite, and the 8-hour drive home.
Side note: this should tell you how much we freaking love jump rope. Seriously.
(the point)
As Stephanie, I have never lost my voice. I came close at the age of twelve. I tried my hardest to succeed at the age of fourteen. I still failed. Well, fast forward to our Vegas trip.
I lost my voice the second day of being sick. And not just halfway either. No, I'm talking full on Grudge imitation. A Brother Severn sound-alike (for those in the Eastern Idaho area). A squawking, out-of-tune creature you couldn't help chuckling at (in your defense, neither could I). I also could barely hear anyone I tried to have a normally-distanced conversation with.
But still I jumped, I yelled counting for routines–I swear I'm the only one that can yell loudly, so I count everything–I sometimes breathed, and I also taught elementary school kids to jump rope for several hours. It was an amazing feat, even though more often than not I'd have to clear my throat to get anything audible to come out. And I was continuously asking nine-year-olds to repeat themselves.
I tried to sing during the car ride home. I couldn't carry a tune. Simple intervals were slaughtered in excruciating, cruel, unusual ways. Poor music. Now I know how the tone-deaf feel. They are stronger people than I am, being able to live without singing.
My only comfort was thinking, "This won't last long, right? Colds only last about seven days, so I'll be fine soon . . ."
(the twist)
WRONG!
3 weeks! I am in no way even exaggerating! Hacking cough, unable to communicate with the world, telling people to speak up.
For 21 days.
504 hours.
30,240 minutes.
1, 814, 400 seconds.
That's an unbelievable time span to not sing in. It was so agonizing! Listening to the beautiful choir in church, and even the congregation. Hearing a favorite song on the radio (the volume twice as high as normal) and banned from the belting of its words. And if the loss of song wasn't heartbreaking enough, I had no recollection of my voice. It seemed these laughable rasps were all I'd ever had. It became a habit to ask if I still sounded sick because, for all I knew, this was the loverly voice I'd developed through my years of living. Of course, when people would answer, I'd yell at them, "What? I can't hear you! You have to talk to me like I'm an old person!" (No insult intended to the elderly here.)
(the speculation)
Something I found interesting was supplied by teammate Nieka. She described a beautiful concept where there's actually a correct manner in which to yell. A procedure to follow so that, no matter the hollering time or distance, the gravel will stay out of your throat. Her suggestion was that I had this ability innately (though it could be taught), which explains my failures earlier in life (not all failures, just the voice-losing ones). So this sporadic, unpredictable cough did something to throw of the natural balance of my voice box.
But who knows how? My family, my teammates, my friends, myself, we are completely mystified. Was it really a cold I had, or was it mono? Possibly the parasitic invasion of an alien compound? Such extreme effects surely cannot be dismissed and discounted. And to simply fade away in a day or two?
It's an outrageous accusation to call this the common cold.
Awesome_
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