Silence in the Man Cave, part two

I have officially reached the pity party stage since “Silence in the Man Cave, part one.”

Please understand, very little takes me down.

I once suffered shingles while on assignment in the Midwest. But after a trip to the emergency room and with antivirals in hand, I managed to get BACK on the road and was working the next day.

Through both pregnancies, I worked full-time in radio up until the DAY I gave birth to my sons.

I’ve worked through blizzards, getting tear-gassed and driving in Boston (see “Boston: A reporter’s observations”).

But now … NOW … I’ve been silenced by a cold. A stupid cold. I can’t make a peep. This is not good for one who talks for a living. And it’s humbling, to say the least.

I think of my mom, a beautiful soprano who inherited a medical condition from her father that makes her voice shake now. We stood together in a church pew as she struggled to hit the high notes she use to send to the heavens, in her younger operatic days.

I once spent a summer with my Mom’s mom. Grandma Esther would visit people in her church who, as they said then in the south, were “doing poorly.” One of the women we visited said, “God saw to put me on a bed of affliction, so that I would HAVE to look up at him.”

Maybe it’s as simple as that. Mother Nature throws you a reality check so you understand your place in this vast universe. That you are NOT in charge of it all, yet you have an important role to play … even when it’s as simple as holding your Mom’s hand in a church pew. Giving it a squeeze to let her know you remember “when,” and you still – and always will – love her.

This has been an actual (much quieter) conversation in the Man Cave. What’s the Man Cave? Read this.

NOTE: How can you stay healthy in a newsroom and world full of germs? Check out my LinkedIn post “Journalism: Pro Tip #7 Germ Defense.”