The Perks of Laryngitis (really).

I’ve just shrugged off a bout of laryngitis— and despite a red-raw throat, there were unexpected perks.

First: not being able to talk at my usual 90mph.

At the hairdressers’, our dynamic changed. We normally chat nonstop about life, movies, and the headlines—in between solving the world’s problems (if he’d added the ten-minute hot oil treatment, we would have nailed the mid-east peace process.)

Instead, I listened. And without our rapid-fire volleys, we shifted gears. To the pain of seeing his elderly mother enter a home. To his worries that his son is struggling at school. Sure, we still laughed, but with more attention to other things.

I relied on hand signals, clumsy at first:  I looked as if I was landing a plane, arms flailing in all directions. Marcel Marceau would have been proud. Or not. Eventually, they became more nuanced.

With my newfound economy of speech, I weighed my utterances carefully. Like words on a news script, each had to earn its place. I tuned in more to the other person – their pitch (high and stressed?), pace (relaxed?) and their body language (betrayed or conveyed their dialogue?)

And listening to the car radio, I realized some long-misheard lyrics, like R.E.M’s Losing my Religion. Turns out, it doesn’t say: Let’s pee in the corner, Let’s pee in the spotlight…

Laryngitis, glad you hit the road. But maybe you weren’t all bad.

Do you feel listened to? And how good a listener are you?