Nearly three weeks have passed (since my surgery), and I can report some improvement in my voice. It is now less wheeze and more whisper (aren’t those two words wonderfully onomatopoeic?).
Nevertheless, telephones remain useless to me; communication in restaurants is only possible with the person who happens to be sitting next to me (put it this way, I assume that the communication is working because the person nods and smiles at the appropriate points).
With the Paralympics on at the moment, disabilities are very much top of mind. In my case, I would have to believe that I could qualify as a disabled cox for a rowing team.
I’ve had several meetings in boardrooms, which have been conducted with total seriousness, but by virtue of me whispering while my clients listen intently, have to count as some of the most ridiculous experiences of my life. During one meeting I suggested that they might as well leave the door open, because I could barely be heard across the table, let alone outside in the passage.
I’m all for this thing of making lemonade when life gives you lemons. In the spirit of turning adversity into opportunity, I think there’s a new career waiting for me as The Boardroom Whisperer.
Fly with me, as my friend Bruce would say. As a result of my reduced verbal communication I spend more time observing and thinking than I spend babbling. I’m the living embodiment of that old idiom that we should watch and listen more than we speak, because we have two eyes and two ears, but just one mouth.
Think about it, there are horse whisperers and dog whisperers, but all those people can talk. They just turn on the whispers temporarily. I walk the talk (in a manner of speaking, of course). I’m the real deal. I whisper.