Author: lisa

Ordering at a drive-thru is something many people take for granted. But a viral video shows the simple act of ordering a mocha frappuccino from Starbucks made possible because of technology. With over 6 million hits, people are realizing that drive-thrus — which were created to help with efficiency and convenience — are the opposite for people with hearing loss.

“I never thought about the fact that you can’t order at a typical drive-thru because you can’t hear what they’re asking, even though they could hear you!!!” wrote a friend in an email.

I don’t rely on sign language to communicate like Rebecca King, the Deaf patron in the video. But I can’t use drive-thrus either – not that I haven’t tried. I’ve skipped the order window and just driven up to the take-out window. I’ve also spoken into the microphone and said, “I’m deaf, so I’ll just pull up to the next window.” Or I’ll give my order and then repeat it when I see the employee. If I’m feeling especially brave, I consider the process an auditory rehab exercise and try to understand what the employee is saying. It’s a lot easier when put into context – like the famous question from McDonald’s: “Would you like fries with that?”

But let’s face it – drive-thrus are the ultimate in laziness. Sometimes it even takes longer to order at the drive-thru than it does to get out of the car and walk inside. When my kids were younger, it was a dilemma: Do I wake up a sleeping child or take a child out of the PIA carseat or deal with the hassle of the drive-thru? If the weather is bad, drive-thrus are definitely appealing. And since they exist, it’d be nice to at least have the option to use them.

Starbucks announced in mid-October that they were adding video screens to 2,400 cafes with drive-thrus. It’s not clear how many locations have this currently in place. The St. Augustine, Fla. Starbucks that King frequents is located near a school for the deaf and blind, so it has worked to accommodate those customers. Four of that location’s baristas know ASL.

This scenario just isn’t possible in the real world. This is another reason why I’m glad that my parents decided that my sister and I would learn how to lipread and speak. I can still benefit from video screen technology even though I don’t sign, because it would allow me to lipread.

Drive-thru employees always have a video screen at their end, so theoretically, it should be easy to make it two-way. For those (many) locations that won’t have employees who know sign language, perhaps a texting/typing option could be added – either by using a pull-out keyboard, or better yet, our own phones. Wouldn’t that be a great app? Anyone? Bueller?

In the meantime, I hope other companies take note. After all, improving accessibility will only increase profits. Starbucks certainly has the money to implement this technology, so the cost is likely negligible compared to the eventual payout.

Can I order a video screen, please?

There’s a thief in my life that follows me wherever I go. Sometimes its presence is sudden, but other times I can tell when it’ll strike. It steals things from me that I can never get back.

This thief, this unwanted visitor, this literal albatross around my neck, is the scourge of my existence: the dreaded M word. Not Metallica, though that’s a good guess (imagine heavy metal pounding away in your head), but Migraine. I need a better name for it, but for now, imagine a long stream of unleashed curses. Much like Metallica, actually.

I’ve gotten migraines for years, a gift handed down from my paternal grandmother who had to lie down in a dark room when one came on. She later died in her 60s of a suspected brain aneurysm, which scares the living hell out of me.

Before I had kids, my migraines were well controlled, thanks to a blood pressure medication that worked 100 percent with no side effects. When I was pregnant, the migraines stayed away (and no, don’t you even dare think it!). As much as I love my kids, having them messed up my body chemistry causing the migraines to return with a vengeance. The only possible light on the horizon is that menopause has been known to help. Yay menopause, bring it on!?

For years, I’ve kept track of my headaches by marking on a calendar the frequency, possible triggers, and my exercise habits. The binder is ready to explode, as I have years’ worth of patterns in there. Lest I get too excited that my migraines are finally decreasing, I only have to look at my charts to remember that certain times of the year are better than others.

Because there’s no cure for migraines, my neurologist and I have had to do a delicate dance to find the best possible combination medications to make me functional. I used to get over 15 migraines a month; thankfully, the number is now lower. But as a typical migraineur, I’m also medication sensitive. Any rare, unusual side effect that’s listed, I’m likely to experience.

Migraine statistics are pretty damning. Nearly 1 in 4 households have someone with migraine, with about 18 percent of American women sufferers, according to the Migraine Research Foundation. More than 90 percent of sufferers are unable to work or function normally during migraine, which is called “an extremely debilitating collection of neurological symptoms.” It’s not just a bad headache.

I don’t get an aura like some people, but I’ve learned my particular symptoms. I’m still learning, actually; within the past year, I’ve noticed that when I experience vision issues, that’s a precursor. My headaches start in my neck, and the sensation of pain or heaviness always brings with it the knowledge of what’s to come. I have some triggers, but of course they’re mostly ones I can’t control. Lack of sleep and stress I can sometimes alleviate, but hormones and weather changes like barometric pressure I can’t do a damn thing about. If I get overheated or exercise a certain way, my head retaliates.

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if I didn’t always have to worry about getting a migraine. If I have a pain-free stretch, I get cocky and revel in how “normal” I feel, but then immediately know I’ve jinxed it. Every event, big or small, I wonder if the thief will return. It likes to steal time with my family and friends and keeps me from fully living life.

I do what I can to keep migraines at bay. I take my daily medication and stronger medication when needed. I exercise as often as possible. I’ve had to develop strategies for working during migraines, though it helps that for now, I work from home. As long as I make my deadlines, it doesn’t matter when I do the work.

But no matter what I do, migraines are persistent. Inevitably, I end up feeling frustrated and depressed because I can’t remember what it feels like to not have one, or because I’m sick of having this weight that comes and goes as it pleases.

No one truly understands until they experience it for themselves – much like losing a loved one. This Huffington Post article about what not to say to someone with migraine is dead on. People mean well, but after all these years, I know what does and doesn’t work. I don’t drink red wine because it’s bad for migraines. You have a remedy you’ve heard of? I’ve tried it. Exercise is great, but only when I’m pain-free. Any kind of physical activity during or after a migraine is out of the question because it’ll just make it worse.

Getting a migraine isn’t just something that takes me out of commission for a few hours. It can be a multi-day process. I might fight one for a few days, which means operating at less than optimal strength. Once I get one, I’m knocked out for an unknown period of time. Sometimes it goes away for a while, but it can linger. Sometimes the pesky devil will go away only to come back a day later. Occasionally, it parties in my head for over a week. And what happens after hosting a party? I’m worn out and exhausted, and still have detritus lying around.

I know I can’t live my life looking for the thief around every corner. But when I’m in the middle of an attack – like now – which stole precious time with friends, I don’t know any other way to be. So I write and do what I can until the day when I can fling that *&#@ albatross across the sea.

Ever since we had kids, our annual fall tradition has been to go to a local farm where we indulge in expensive fall activities and pick pumpkins from the patch. Because nothing says fall like going down a 100 foot slide, playing in a bin of corn, or getting lost in a hay maze, right?

Apparently this practice even has a name: agritourism. Farming can be a difficult profession, and I don’t blame farms for trying to supplement their income. But the practice has become so commercialized, with one local farm advertising a bounce house, balloon chase, rock wall, and baseball challenge among their offerings. Because nothing says fall like chasing balloons, I guess.

When I was a kid, my family’s fall tradition was to go apple picking with family friends, followed by a pizza dinner. In Western NY, apple picking meant climbing trees or tall ladders. Here in Western PA, the trees are so small that ladders aren’t needed. There’s no work involved, and it just isn’t the same.

Now that my kids are 13 and 10, the allure of farm activities has faded. When I asked if they were ok with picking pumpkins from a grocery store, they said yes. The obligatory picture of them in a pumpkin patch is no longer; it’s the end of an era.

My next question was to ask if they wanted to carve their pumpkins. My husband interjected, “You mean, do you want me to carve your pumpkins?” making it clear this was the last thing he wanted to do. I tried to help by suggesting they decorate the outside of their pumpkins, like many people now do. The kids didn’t care; they said they wanted to make jack-o-lanterns. Maybe we can at least steer them toward smaller pumpkins, and be thankful that at least one fall tradition remains.

Years ago, I wrote a short story that I can’t seem to find. No matter, because it remains forever etched in my mind and I’d probably cringe at the writing anyway. At the time, I was fascinated with O’Henry-type endings. The story is about a woman walking down the street when a man with a gun walking behind her yells at her to stop or he’ll shoot. Despite the man’s repeated shouts, she doesn’t turn around. The last line was something to the effect of: “If only the battery in her hearing aid hadn’t died, she would still be alive.”

This has always been one of my fears – that something horrible and preventable will happen to me because of my deafness. Every time I walk through a parking lot, I’m afraid that I’ll get hit by a car I don’t hear. And now with gun violence on the rise in a country where an average of 31 Americans are murdered with guns each day and 151 are treated for a gun assault in an ER (according to the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence), the scenario I once wrote about could very well come true.

I hope the day will soon come when such an encounter — regardless of hearing loss — will only exist in fiction.

Both of my kids have celiac disease, an autoimmune disease that makes their bodies react to gluten. The only treatment is a gluten free diet. As my husband has taken to saying to restaurants when ordering food with the kids, “This is medical-level gluten free, not Hollywood gluten free.”

When my daughter was diagnosed just before she turned 3 1/2, we decided to heed the advice of experts and avoid a completely gluten free house. We didn’t want her to be in a bubble; she had to get used to being a minority in a world that eats gluten. This philosophy mirrors the one I grew up with; my parents decided to raise my deaf sister and I to lipread and speak so we could function independently in society. I was taught to advocate for myself, and am trying to instill that skill in my children as well.

We did make our house a safe place. We have a GF counter, toaster, shelves in the pantry, shelves in the basement freezer, and clearly marked items in the fridge. Making dishes like GF pasta and gluten pasta in separate pots with the same sauce (GF food is expensive!) is second nature to me now; I have the GF pot and spoon on the left, the gluten ones on the right, and never the twain shall meet.

I think this is a large reason why my kids are healthy and comfortable with their celiac disease. As GF products expand and improve, food has gotten easier as well.

But it’s still hard. Samara and I agreed yesterday that if there was a pill that would make me hearing, of course I would take it. Similarly, if there was a pill that allowed her to eat gluten again, she would take it. Hopefully such a thing will become reality in her lifetime.

Until then, she said she has a list of Best Gluten Smells. This includes bread, lasagna, bakeries, and animal crackers. I reminded her that there’s a GF bakery in town that smells amazing, just like any other bakery. She agreed and said that every time she walks in, she thinks, “Wow, I can eat anything in here!”

Luckily there is a GF alternative for everything on her list, though it’s not quite the same. There’s always her Best Smells list, which has on it “real hot chocolate, not the Swiss Miss kind.” That would be on mine too.

What would be on your list? And please don’t say Pumpkin Spice…