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Lost my voice last night. Yes, I’ve been to the doctor. Have some voice back today, but am having to sort of ration the use of it, so I can make sure I can talk to all you guys who are coming to the two signings next week for A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT. Not to mention that it hurts to talk. Always an incentive not to do something.
The Micah novella is going along nicely, but it’s actually going to be the size of a small book. I’ll try to remember this the next time I have a “short” idea. Sigh. Well back to work, at least writing doesn’t require me to talk.
Jon just walked by and said, “You should tell them how you lost your voice.” Okay.
I’ve been diagnosed with LPR (Laryngopharyngeal Reflux). Basically it’s like acid reflux except instead of trying to burn a hole through my esophogus, it’s coming all the way up to my voice box, my larynx. Spring allergies have hit, and so I’ve got drainage coming from above, and acid coming from below, and everything is pooling in my throat. Ho, ho, ho. My doctor has doubled some of the medication I was already on. She’s going to get me into a voice clinic that specializes in things relating to the voice. This does explain why a few years ago I went from being able to project to the back row of a room, easily, to straining for it. It also explains why I started loosing my voice after tour, unless every talk had a microphone. It explains why I feel like I’m choking sometimes if a shirt covers my throat. It actually explains a lot of symptoms and problems that wouldn’t seem related, but actually are. Funny how the body works sometimes. Funny in that morbid, very not ha-ha way.
This would all be easier if I was better at charades. I’ve always sucked at the game. Writing little notes hurts my injured arm. My American sign language is too rusty to use. Very frustrating.