Well, This is a Fine How Do You Do.

Lost my voice.  Gone.  Nothing.

On Wednesday, after school, I started getting a bit raspy, you know, like some woman working the cash register at the liquor store, who smokes unfiltered Pall Malls on her break.  I wrote it off to the first-week-of-school  issues that come up, along with sore feet and a need for heading to bed around 8pm.

Nope.  By Thursday, my voice was pretty much gone.  I went in to work, knowing it would be a challenge, but also refusing to call in my first week of school.  Yeah, that would make a good impression on everyone.  They don't even get sick days here.  Not officially.  I mean, yes, if you are sick, you stay home, but it's not the same kind of formalized situation that I have back home.  I get 10 sick days a year, and those are to be used for doctor's appointments as well.  They add up, so sick days I don't use one year, roll over into the next year.  Meaning, if I have to be off for  a longer time, like a pregnancy (yeah, right), or I'm laid up for a while, I've got the sick days added up.

Anyway, I went in.  It was hilarious.  You try whispering "be quiet please," to 30 noisy 13-year-olds.  Take it from me, it doesn't work.  I didn't actually feel so bad, but by the end of the day I was completely worn out.  Knackered (or is it "nackered?"), was the word.  Two different teachers tried to get me to not come in on Friday, but I was rather stubborn.  Stubborn and embarrassed.  I never stay home from work.

Then M, the department chair came in.  She didn't waste any time arguing with me, just started writing up plans for the supply (substitute) teacher.  She called the head teacher (like our principal) to tell her I would not be coming in on Friday.  It was amazing.  She just took charge, didn't waste any time, and the next thing I knew, I had lesson plans for four different classes on my desk, and I was out the door on my way home.

It's a good thing too.  Yesterday, the voice was still completely gone. I called the local surgery (the doctor's office), to make an appointment, and it was again slapstick comedy.  Not only was I croaking, rather than speaking, I was croaking with an American accent.  I tried whispering, but she couldn't hear that at all.  We tried to get my last name, then my address, then my first name.  Next, she finally found me, but said that I was a former patient.  Considering that I just got my NHS card two days ago, and that my registration appointment is this coming Thursday, I thought that was rather odd.  In any case, we got it all sorted out, and I went in a couple hours later.

And yes, yet again, it's my stupid sinuses.  This time it's not painful, and I'm not hacking, but the stuff that's dripping down the back of my throat this time is sticking to my vocal cords like "tar," according to the doctor.   A third round of antibiotics (not happy about that), and these are different from any other I've ever taken.  I cannot have any alcohol while I'm taking them. Not a drop.  If I do choose to imbibe, I will throw up. A good deterent, that's for sure.

So, my big shopping day is put on hold.  I had plans to get myself to Westfied, the "largest shoppig centre in Europe," and find some darn pants to wear on the weekend, but it's not happening.  I'm at home, watching tv and trying to crochet a scarf.  I've become an old lady I tell you.

Tomorrow is J's birthday party.  She was kind enough to invite me, even though we've just met.  What should I bring her?

I hope my voice is back by then.