I made it through yesterday without blowing anything up. I also didn't clean up the pantry like I should have. My sweetie pie came home early and cleaned the entire mess up for me. It's not like I just sat and did nothing though. I busted my ass cleaning the house so it would look nice for his poker game. Not that it was a pig sty or anything. More like a dog sty. Ha-ha. It wasn't really that bad. My house cleaning lady was just here a few days before, but it doesn't take long for dog hair to be everywhere. I always like to say that dog hair is a condiment in my house. I forget where I first heard that line, but I promptly stole it for myself.
I had an appointment with a speech pathologist today for a complete evaluation. And guess what I had to do? Among a lot of other silly verbal noises and recitations I had to make, I HAD TO SING! In front of him! And Barnaby was in the room too! I had to use a microphone and everything! GAH. I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown right there...
About an hour into the evaluation:
Speech Guy: Okay, now we need to do another exercise.
Speech Guy: Do you have a favorite song that you can sing?
Me: NO! Are you kidding me?!
Speech Guy: Ha-ha-ha! No, really. Think of a song and sing a little bit of it into the microphone.
Me: Oh, God. Will you two go outside while I do it?
(Speech Guy and Barnaby whoop it up, laughing. They aren't the ones that have to sing!)
Speech Guy: No, it'll be okay. Just sing a little of it. I need it for the evaluation.
Me: (Wringing hands but saying nothing. My face is flushed and my ears feel like they are are on fire.)
Speech Guy: Have you chosen a song?
Speech Guy: Okay, when you're ready, you can start.
Me: Okay, go.
Speech Guy: (Presses the record button on his computer)
Me: (I take a big breath and then burst out laughing into the microphone)
Speech Guy: I'm starting over. Here we go. (Presses the record button again and nods for me to begin.)
Me: (Eyes closed, I start singing) Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are...
(I make it all the way to the end of the song)
Speech Guy & Barnaby: (Silence)
Me: What?! Didn't I sing it right? Were those not the right words?
Barnaby: I don't know. I don't know the words to that song. I thought you would sing something more contemporary.
Me: Did you expect me to bust out with a Celine Dione song or something???
Barnaby: Well, no.
Speech Guy: You picked a good song. It was a good song.
(He looks at the sound waves on his computer that were made with my voice while singing and does a few calculations)
Speech Guy: Oh, we have problems here.
I really don't want to discuss the details here of what could be going on until I get a definitive diagnosis on March 20th. (I have a preliminary diagnosis which I'm pretty confident in.)
Until then, I'm going to rest my voice as much as possible with little to no verbal communication and warm compresses to my throat. My instincts are telling me that this is what I need to do. I'd like to get a chest x-ray too. Seems to me like a common sense approach and something that should have been recommended early-on, but what do I know? We'll see.