I remember singing along to Joni Mitchell in the ’70s. The song was Big Yellow Taxi and the refrain was: “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone… (they paved paradise and put up a parking lot).”

Those words came to mind on Tuesday, the day after my NBN debacle that cut the surgery off from all communication other than Australia Post and carrier pigeon.

I finished a full morning list and looked at the list of patients booked in for the afternoon onslaught. The phone rang. I was speechless. Literally. I had been struck down by laryngitis.

We don’t appreciate our reliance on speech until we are silenced. It is so frustrating. To utter a squeak was painful, and I knew the key to recovery was time and resting one’s voice. So I was motivated to shut up.