Hey Yelling People—I’m Standing Right Next to You

10/30/2009

Some people just can't seem to talk without yelling. You know that moment when you switch off the DVD player, and the TV blares at top volume? They're stuck in it.

I had an office across the hall from one of these people once, and I swear I knew more about what was happening in her life than my own.

I'd get the blow-by-blow on troubles with her ex-boyfriend, for example.

"WHAT'S WITH THE NAKED PICTURES OF HIMSELF HE KEEPS E-MAILING ME??" she'd roar into the phone. "I MEAN REALLY, IT'D BE ONE THING IF HE WERE HOT….WAIT, HOLD ON, GOT A WORK CALL HERE."
[Click]

"YOU FINALLY GOT MY REPLACEMENT CHAIR? 'BOUT TIME. I'M ON THE SEVENTH FLOOR. ACROSS FROM THE QUIET GIRL."
[Click]

"BUT EWWW. I MEAN THERE'S ONE PHOTO WHERE HE'S POSING ON A TRACTOR, AND IT'S LIKE WHAT THE HELL?"

I really don't want to know this. But now I've got this picture stuck in my head. Eww is right.
She hangs up. Apparently, the next call is to her plumber.

"HEY!! WHAT'S GOING ON WITH THE TOILET SNAKING??"

Oh for crying out loud. Now I'm covering my ears—though, really, defense is useless. Even if both our doors are shut, it's still like she's barking in my ear. And if I put my earphones on, people sneak up behind me and scare the bejesus out of me.

Turns out there's a name for my former co-worker's malady: Voice Immodulation, as portrayed by comedian Will Ferrell in his role as State Department attaché, Jacob Silj, on Saturday Night Live's Weekend Update. Click here to watch a clip of his SNL Voice Immodulation segment. In it, Ferrell scolds interviewer Tina Fey for her insensitivity when she complains that he's shouting:

"I SUFFER FROM VOICE IMMODULATION TINA. I'M UNABLE TO CONTROL THE PITCH OR VOLUME OF MY VOICE…." he yells. "NUMEROUS PROMINENT AMERICANS SUFFER FROM THIS DEBILITATING DISEASE, TINA, INCLUDING THE GUY WHO PLAYED RAJ ON "WHAT'S HAPPENING" AND TENNIS GREAT PETE SAMPRAS."

I'm not sure about Sampras, but the late Billy Mays, giant of infomercial screaming (OxiClean! Orange Glo!), should definitely be on that list. In fact, all actors in advertisements should be, along with Chris Matthews, Nancy Grace, and kids' show stars Dora the Explorer and all five Backyardigans.

OK, yeah, so Will Ferrell punked us. There is no such thing as Voice Immodulation.

But in all seriousness, I think Ferrell is onto something: There's a whole lot of unnecessary shouting going on. In restaurants, in the workplace, on TV, into cellphones, on the sidewalks and subway trains—and not just by teenage girls.

And what's really triggered my shout-mograph is my four-year-old son T-Rex. I'm pretty sure I'm living with a miniature version of Billy Mays. I love him to bits, but his voice is deafening.

"MOMMY/DADDY I AM THROWING THESE PILLOWS BECAUSE I….BECAUSE THEY'RE IN SPACE AND THEY'RE GOING TO HIT THE EARTH AND BLOW UP. AND. AND I'M GOING TO MAKE A SPACESHIP OUT OF THEM. THEN I WILL CRAWL IN THIS HOLE 'CAUSE I'M A POSSUM. I'M RAJA THE POSSUM. AND I…..I WANT JUICE. MOMMEEE I WANT JUICE. MOMMEEE! MOMMEEE! I WANT JUICE!"

 You can read about what happens to me after several hours of this in my post from last week.

And here's the problem, people: I can't seem to get him to quiet down. No matter how many times I say inside voice, take it down a few notches, settle down, easy tiger, whoa there Tex, and plain old sssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh, he keeps up this earsplitting delivery.

 I tried looking for advice on the Web, but there isn't much out there.

The closest thing I could find—and it isn’t close at all, really—is Pragmatic Language Disorder, in which people say the wrong thing at the wrong time with inappropriate voice modulation and body language. I’m not saying T-Rex isn’t capable of this—he’s a kid, after all, and kids do that sort of thing—but it’s not his issue.

(It’s more characteristic of the socially inept adult who says at an intimate Thanksgiving gathering, “You know there’s gelatin in that pecan pie you made, in the marshmallow. That’s animal hooves you know. I don’t EAT that!”)

No, T-Rex has a basic volume problem. And I’m wondering, was I like this as a kid? Surely I was a quiet, sweet angel. I vaguely remember my parents shushing my sister and me now and again, but it couldn’t have been often, right? I’m sure we listened and immediately dialed it down.

Hey, whatever it takes. I’d just like to nip this in the bud while T-Rex is a kid, so that he doesn’t end up with full-blown Voice Immodulation, so that he doesn’t become an office yeller. Not only do I not want him driving everyone else around him to tears, I don’t want him broadcasting intimate details of his personal life to his office-mates. He’ll have the Internet for that.

Dispatch from Migraine Lane: What Really Causes a Headache?

10/22/2009

"I wanna be, your SLEDGEHAMMER!" my husband is belting out over Peter Gabriel in the kitchen. He's in there doing something useful, like caulking, or—I don't know—gluing the windows shut.

Me?

I'm sprawled on the sofa with a headache, feeling beat-up as the Public Option.

So I shouldn't begrudge him the singing, but…

"Oh let me be your SLEDGEHAMMER. This will be my TES-timony...."

Just what you need after a workday has kicked you in the head. And now, of course, the three-year-olds join in.

T-Rex stands on the arm of the sofa, bellows, "Momeeeee, Yucky-Man's gonna get yooooooo!" He's acting out the "Super Heroes vs. Super Villains" episode of the Backyardigans, which is blasting in the background. I knew we were in for this when he mastered the volume button on the remote.

"T-Rex, INSIDE voice please."

"Red alert. Danger! Red alert. Danger!" he screeches, and launches himself at my head.

"Ouch! T-Rex!"

"SLEDGE!" sings my husband.

"Mommeee, I did a poopoo and a peepee," trills Punk from his potty station in front of the TV. Oh fantastic.
 

I get off the sofa to investigate Punk's output, and wish I'd stayed put. On the biohazard index, this is a level five, Code Red, and at this point, so is my headache. Really, this is a job for the EPA, with all their special equipment and stuff.

"Moommeeee, I can help. Yucky-Man to the rescue!" yells T-Rex. He runs over and slams into the potty, very nearly setting off a toxic explosion.

 "SLEDGE!" from the kitchen.

Well this is fun. What I really want to do is let out a primal scream. But that wouldn't be good role-modeling of the inside-voice thing. Just another night on Migraine Lane.

It's all a hazy blur, but we eventually pack the kids off to bed. I crash on the sofa, arm draped over my forehead, and contemplate my headache.

I've got a chicken-or-egg question: Did my headache already exist—in a low-grade way—and then just get massively accelerated by the kids? Or was I susceptible after a long day at work, and them whomp, the kids brought it on?

As a cyberchondriac, I must, of course, look this up. But not right now. Right now, I. Just. Need. To. Sleep…….

The next morning, the headache is still back there, faintly knocking on the inside of my skull. It's what my parents call a "Lurking"—a hint of headache that should promptly be killed with a handful of Advil. Which I proceed to do.

Unfortunately, the Advil just nudges the Lurking a little further back in my head. It's not going away. So I go online. Time to conquer this thing with information.

To sum it up, there are three major headache types:

Tension—More often isolated than chronic, they cause mild to moderate, dispersed pain. The head feels like it's in a vise.

Cluster—Aptly named, they usually stab, like a hot poker, at one side of the face. The eye is often involved, and attacks tend to recur.

Migraine—Severe and chronic, they often herald their arrival with auras, which are flashes of light, blind spots, or limb tingling. Sufferers are sensitive to noise and light.

As far as I can tell, I don't get any one of these. I get a combination of the first and third. Tension headaches but with the noise and light sensitivity. Migraines but without the auras.

And it turns out that my medication of choice, Advil (a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drug, or NSAID), is recommended for migraines but not tension headaches. In fact, NSAIDs can actually cause tension headaches if overused. ?!

Where the heck does this leave me? I should take Advil but I shouldn't take Advil.
 

Seems to me that my only option here is to stop the headache before it starts. So back to the chicken-or-egg question of cause—click here for a Discovery Health video on the range of triggers.
 

For tension headaches, the origin is largely fatigue, stress and the chemical changes it sets off in the brain. For migraines, the list is longer: stress and fatigue, too, but also hormones (estrogen fluctuations with menstrual cycles, in particular), certain foods or drinks, certain smells or…..(drumroll please) NOISE.

So the answer to the question of headache causation is the chicken and the egg. Stress, hormones, foods—and yes, my boys' noise—can plant the seed of a headache, and they can also make it worse.

But some other key triggers are missing from the list. I'm thinking of petitioning the American Headache Society to add them. These include small boys hurling themselves at your head. Blaring children's programs. Potty incidents that go from bad to worse. Offers of "help" from three-year-olds.

Oh, and the song "Sledgehammer."