Making It Up As I Go Along #248

MONDAY…
--- Skip squash and have a tricky time at work due to my throat. I’m losing my voice and it’s pretty sore there when I swallow. It’s especially bad if I sneeze. I did it once at work and it felt like my tonsils were going to shoot out of my mouth.

TUESDAY…
--- Well the doctor was visited and my voice isn’t due to sickness but… a strained or pulled vocal chord. Not quite as glamorous as twisting a knee on the playing field in sports but what are ya going to do?

WEDNESDAY…
--- Kind of garbage day at work, largely based on a bit of a tiff with a friend. It’s a lot nicer at work when there are certain people you know you can see and laugh with at break or when you pass them by… And that’s not happening with one person in this place today.
--- Out with mom and her friend/co-worker after work. They’re in town for business so I meet them downtown and we do supper together… it’s good.

THURSDAY…
--- Nasty day. One of the worst ones in a few years actually. Not much went right on this day… but I’ll live.

FRIDAY…
--- Better day than yesterday but still some issues that aren’t super.
--- Real food day… Tom (the manager) gives us breakfast at HQ to start the day… then we have the office Christmas lunch at the Keg downtown… and tonight I have supper with mom and her co-worker at the Mongolian place. My voice just about dies over the day but I make it.

SATURDAY…
--- Quiet day around the house trying to get my voice feeling better.

Badges of Honour
Injuries are one of the badges of honour for an athlete. Most people I’ve played sports with have a story to tell of a time they got hurt. The stories come out... people relate and tell their own... and the whole process continues... sometimes, if enough alcohol is consumed, for hours.

I have endured many an injury over the years. And I can be fairly proud with my record of returning early or playing through problems.

Early one fastpitch softball tournament, while I was playing shortstop, I took a screaming line drive off of my ankle. With my leg numb from toe to shin, I scrambled to pick up the ball and make the out. And I continued with the tournament, playing three games in two days with a swollen and bruised ankle.

Prior to another fastpitch game, I took a ball off the tip of my left ring finger. The finger snapped back and swealed up within seconds. Still, I threw a bit of tape around the knuckle and proceeded to catch the game... catching many a hard pitch right on top of that finger. This was about ten years ago... I’ve never been able to bend that finger all the way since... but I finished the game!

My most proud ‘warrior’ story is of the time I tore my medial collateral ligament (MCL) in my right knee. In the third inning, it popped while I was making a quick stop along the base paths. But with my knee throbbing, I caught another two innings before finishing the game at first base. I didn’t play well for the rest of the game... but such details get left as unimportant.

My MCL story ends with the fact that I returned to the team three weeks later (at least a month before I should) to be a designated hitter in the playoffs. I hit the first pitch I saw to deep centre field for an sacrifice fly and a game tying RBI.

So now I can sit with old team mates and nod as they talk of sore shoulders. I pipe in that I had my shoulder checked out and was told there was likely calcification within the joint. Now that’s a war story for a ball player!

I have other stories of pain and injury. My sister sent my flying over the front steps in my childhood. Eyebrow met concrete walkway and the blood flowed. My uncle thought my eye was no longer within it’s socket... that’s how much blood was gushing from my tiny skull. The scar remains as a reminder for my only time receiving stiches.

I know co-workers who have endured injuries too. Anne-Marie tore knee ligaments in an office volleyball tournament. She finished the tournament and was part of the winning team. Devin was walloped with a curling broom so hard that he was almost killed! A lump of legendary status welled up in record time and the photograph was circulated for months afterwards. And Laura fractured a bone within her wrist while playing hockey... yet she played on, not even realizing that the bone was fractured until months later. Even then, she said “Forget the cast! It’s summer time!” She played golf as my team mate at the RCMP tournament... fractured wrist and all.

And me? Well, we’re getting to me now.

Three weeks ago, I was sitting at my home computer without a care in the world. Healthy, killing some time, enjoying the sun coming through my living room window. And, without warning, I had a mighty sneeze!

It was one of those mega-blast sneezes that explodes from deep down. Not one of those messy sneezes where you’re left to towel off mind you. It was neat and titanic. And with it, I felt an ache in the side of my throat.

My first thought was a small curse. It was me wondering if that was the first sneeze of an oncoming cold. That the ache in my throat would soon develop into a scratchiness, and that would be followed by sinus congestion.

But I was lucky. Over the following days, no symptoms developed and the ache disappeared. Yet, from time to time after that, another quick sneeze would flare the ache. For the following two weeks, It never fully goes away.

Six days ago, the ache graduates from occasional irritant after a sneeze to a constant annoyance. Swallowing is by no means agonizing... but it isn’t a simple pleasure either. It’s sort of like trying to swallow a peanut. And with an oral presentation days away, I began to fear the cold catching up to me. Would I be miserable on the day when my thoughts would have to be clear and my voice strong?

But that day passes without incident. The ache is still in my throat but no other symptoms come.. I make it through the presentation alive.

Still, I’m tired and emotionally drained, so Saturday is a quiet day around the house for me. By Saturday night, an amazing thing... my voice changes! I talk to myself.. Likely in complaint about some commercial I see on TV... and suddenly I can barely recognize the voice that comes out. It’s Johnny Cash’s voice... no... no it’s Barry White’s voice. Deep and with a base that would shake the water in a glass like when the T-Rex approached the heros in Jurassic Park. And then I knew... at age 34, I would begin my life as a singer. Not just singer... I’d be a crooner! No more single life for me my friends! The girls would be running for me wildly.

For the rest of the evening, I walked around testing my voice. Not through song, but simple sentences. “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash”... “This is the sound of my voice.”... “Oooo baby.”

On Sunday, trouble begins. My deep voice that’ll make me millions vanishes. A couple of crackles and things begin to close down.

By Sunday night, I’m down to a weak gravely thing to communicate with. There is a shade of Cash still in there... Barry White is long gone... and fear of the flu comes back.

Monday I have co-workers trying to coax me into saying those famous words... “Hello, I’m Johnny Cash.” I refuse... my voice will not be turned in to a mockery!

At lunch, it’s too late. Johnny is long gone and all that’s left is a troll that lives under a bridge. Nick even offers to go look for some Billy Goats.

This morning, I’m down to a whisper. Instructions at work are given by me secretly telling the closest person to me so that they can broadcast it to the crew. I’m a whispering mob boss now. “Never go against the family.” I belong in the Godfather movies.

So I’m off to the doctor. Three and a half years into my stay in Ottawa, I finally have to go to see a doctor. And what is it he tells me? Strep throat? Pneumonia? Bronchitis? No... it appears that I have a pulled vocal chord! It takes six weeks for these things to heal!

Quite a warrior I am. Torn MCL... finish the game. Blasted finger... catch the game. And a shoulder joint turning to bone due to years of intense use!

And my latest injury... six weeks of voice trouble due to a sneeze. Millions of dollars gone, simply because my vocal chords shifted from Barry White to the troll under the bridge.