BY MIKE LYNCH

Special to the Journal

This is the first of a monthly column by long-time local political consultant and public servant Mike Lynch. Look for Lynch’s future columns in the Journal on the first Saturday of each month.

Modern medicine tells us much about cancer and the treatments (chemo, radiation and surgery) to defeat it. We also know much about aging and the aches and pains of our muscles and joints when it dawns on them (the muscles and joints, that is): “Hey, we’ve been lugging around your 200 pounds (plus or minus 50) for over 70 flipping years! Start doing better, jerk!”

So, you resolve to be, well, better. You stop smoking, stop drinking, go long periods of eating food that doesn't taste good. Even worse, you start to exercise.

But the radiation and chemo treatments makes it hard to talk. First, your throat gets raspy. Then your voice gets really faint. Sometimes you lose it for extended periods.

You fear someone might mistake you for Secretary of Health Bobby Kennedy Jr. So you go to the doctor. Prognosis: “Damage to the vocal cords from the chemo and radiation is the likely cause. We can, and will, fix that, but also do a biopsy just to be sure.”

So far so good; it’s an outpatient procedure. Only difficult part was the drive to the Bay Area during peak commute.

For recovery, you are supposed to refrain from speaking or even whispering for three days. Then, for the next 10 days, you’re told to speak only quietly in and short conversations. And still no whispering.

It is very difficult to not talk!

You can’t say thanks to the person who brings you the coffee! Try to order food at any restaurant without speaking. You can point out what you want on the menu but try going through the options without using words. “How would you like your eggs?”

“Water with or without ice?”

“Rare, medium rare or well done?”

Try ordering coffee at a Starbucks drive-thru. And what’s the universal hand signal for venti Americano?

Adjustments are necessary when speech is impaired.

The other morning, I wake up and Ana asks, “Sleep well?”

I knock over the bedside lamp trying to find the pen and tablet I set out for just this occasion.

So now I’m consumed considering the difficulty of interacting with people without speaking to them.

At the pharmacy, they ask, “What’s your birthdate?”

At the lunch spot next to the office, it’s “How would you like that burrito and do you want salsa?” Zoom brought amazing communication possibilities to the workplace, the ability to confer with people all over the world. But if you can’t talk, it just doesn’t work. Speech is often required even when one chooses not to talk. “Officer, I will not answer your questions or discuss this matter without my attorney being present!”

One of the most popular conversation shortcuts is the thumbs up or down gesture. That only works for so much — how’s your team doing? Did you like the election results? How was the big date? Is that a good price for this TV? I’ve used this technique more in the last 24 hours than in all my previous 76 years on this planet. Imagine if the thumb becomes your chief communications tool.

And that notepad and pen? This makes me realize how lazy I’ve become in handwriting. It’s so bad I often have to rewrite my response after I see the bewildered expression on the face of the person I’ve handed it to because they can’t interpret my scratches. So, I write it out again. I  should have listened more to Sister Angela in the 6th grade; she warned me that I would one day pay a price for my sloppy penmanship.