Notes From My Knapsack 2-28-18

Notes From My Knapsack 2-28-18

Jeff Gill

 

A little less conversation

___

 

As is too well known now, I can't talk.

 

Actually, by the time you read this, I should be able to speak a bit more audibly, but who knows?

 

I've been diagnosed with what NPR listeners call "Diane Rehm disease," or what is actually called spasmodic dysphonia. It's a neurological disability that literally grabs you by the throat, and is just as much fun as that sounds. The treatment is being stabbed in the throat with needles, ditto.

 

For the last couple years, it's been creeping up on me, and even when you didn't hear me suddenly getting into a strangled tone of voice or sounding as if I had a touch of laryngitis that came and went, when I sounded fine, I was feeling a steel glove grabbing my larynx any time I tried to speak. Ironically, shouting or singing loudly without impairment is actually one of the indicators of the ailment; speaking in a softer tone of voice was what was hard.

 

The good news is that the injections worked from almost the outset on the voice box spasms. The bad news is that the early phase of "working" means my vocal cords are largely paralyzed. Later on, my voice should return to a more normal tone, and without the spasms plaguing me.

 

The better news is that this is good for me. It all happened very fast, and without the time to plan I would have liked, putting me in some awkward public situations recently, work-wise. The more complicated news is that, if this is to be an ongoing therapy for me, I will have three or four intervals a year of two week "vocal pauses" (and three or four sessions of having injections through my neck cartilage with a scope down my nose, but hey, everything has a price).

 

What I've tried to do is use this first experience with the injections and the recovery phase as a chance to listen better. I can't talk, I cannot anticipate managing a rejoinder anyhow, so if I'm listening I am listening with a mind not to what I will say next. This is not a bad thing.

 

As Elvis said, sometimes "a little less conversation" is a good thing. A little more action, a bit more emphasis on "so what shall we do" next rather than having something more to say.

 

My future work for the county and as a preacher and storyteller will have to become something different, as well. The days of gathering in people by volume and intensity of the spoken word are going to be constrained by the availability of electronic amplification. I'm going to have to work more with small groups, and less often with big crowds wandering the earthworks or on the public square. And even in smaller settings, I can't talk over ambient noise the way I've been used to.

 

So a little more intentionality and planning, a little less public speaking in general, and a lot more listening. It's really not a bad thing at all.

 

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and pastor in Licking County; he's still got a few things left to say. Tell him what you've heard at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.