I lost my voice recently. It came on quickly. One day, I was able to speak normally; the next, I was rasping like I’d smoked a pack of cigarettes in my sleep—even though I haven’t had a cigarette in more than 30 years.

It seemed there was no warning, but there was. Because my life is ridiculous, I am losing hair at a rapid pace (trust me… there is a connection). I mentioned it at my semi-annual skin examination. The dermatologist ordered bloodwork to determine the cause of my hair loss. She didn’t believe it was because my life is ridiculous, though stress can be caused by a ridiculous life, and stress can cause hair loss.

Because test results are delivered to both me and my provider simultaneously, I frequently review them before my provider can. Everything looked good… except my basophils, which were way out of the normal range. So, I looked up what basophils are and what they do. Yes, I realize normal people don’t do this.

Basophils, I learned, help the body fight off infections and allergic reactions. The next day, I lost my voice, which seemed to explain the elevated basophils. I concluded it was due to a virulent invader, not sleep-smoking. My boss lost his voice the next day, confirming my self-diagnosis. I resisted the urge to excitedly tell him about my basophil adventure.

Losing my physical voice was bothersome, but I knew how to bring it back—humidity, hot toddies, and rest.

However—and this is terrifying—I have lost my writing voice. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say; I have a lot to say. I’m not suffering from writer’s block. It’s just that when I sit down to try to write, nothing coherent (at least to me) comes out. I’m probably still recovering from my rapid retirement. Or maybe I’m depressed that Donald Trump is again our president. If you voted for him, well, bless your heart.

There are other reasons for my lack of written coherence. In fact, there are so many that relating them would only add to my stuckness, at least for now.

Many a professional writer gives the same advice: sit the hell down and write. I have been sitting the hell down. After weeks of procrastination—months, if I’m being honest—I’m finally sitting in front of my Mac on a mostly daily basis. Ass in chair and fingers on keyboard are the only ways I can hope to feel comfortable doing this again.

In the meantime, I’ll sit here like a rock and hope that basophils can also cure writer’s laryngitis. And maybe a hot toddy or two.