How family, creativity, and community sparked a hearing-themed shop.
By Hilary McManus, Au.D.
My journey into audiology started long before graduate school, when my cousin Victoria was born. She’s my aunt’s daughter on my mom’s side, and she’s 19 now. I was in high school when she arrived, right at that time when you’re trying to figure out your college major. I’d always loved science and medicine, but I didn’t have a direction yet.
Then Victoria failed her newborn hearing screening. At about 6 weeks old, we learned she had bilateral profound sensorineural hearing loss caused by a Connexin-26 variant. From 2 months old to about 1 year old, she wore tiny pink Oticon Sensei hearing aids, although she hated them and pulled them out every chance she got. Looking back, they probably weren’t giving her much stimulation anyway.
She received a cochlear implant in her right ear before her first birthday at NYU Langone, and attended Mill Neck Manor School for the Deaf from age 4 months old until kindergarten.
I’m extremely close with my mom’s side of the family, so I was deeply involved in the whole process. I went to her follow-up appointments, early intervention speech sessions, and even spent a summer at sign language camp at Mill Neck. Watching her journey—the hearing aids, the surgery, the CI mappings—completely fascinated me. I knew audiology was it.
I went on to major in communication sciences and disorders at Pace University and observed both speech therapy sessions at Mill Neck and audiology appointments at NYU. I was lucky enough to have pediatric audiologist Abbey Berg, Au.D., as my adviser. She really nurtured my passion for the field. She connected me with a role doing newborn hearing screenings at NewYork-Presbyterian, where I worked for four years.
Today, Victoria is studying forensic science in college. She loves talking about her implants and has never felt insecure about them—we always made sure she felt proud and special.
Hearing loss runs deeper in my family, too. My grandfather also has hearing loss from otosclerosis and noise exposure from his service in the U.S. Navy, and I actually have mild right-ear otosclerosis myself (discovered during grad school practice audiograms!). Having this personal connection has made me a better clinician. A lot of the items in my shop come directly from wanting patients to feel understood and supported.
A Creative Outlet
I don’t have a formal design background, but while working in the clinic I realized how much I loved creating resources for patients—brochures, handouts, visual guides—mostly because I couldn’t find what I wanted online.
When I moved to Oticon Medical, which manufactures bone-anchored hearing aids, in 2021, I kept developing those skills and taught myself Procreate, Adobe Illustrator, and InDesign. All the designs in my shop are hand-drawn by me (with just a couple outsourced images like the anatomical drawing in the pocket guide). I started posting items on Etsy—and my bio there captures my outlook: “NYC based audiologist in need of a creative outlet!”—and now I also host a shop on my NYCAuD website.
My first big idea was the pocket guides. In the practice where I worked for years, we had random papers and sticky notes everywhere—word lists, formulas, CI candidacy criteria, billing codes, even Jongkees’ formula, a calculation used to assess a patient's balance function. I found tons of pocket guides for nurses and doctors but none for audiologists. So I made my own. Now I have full pocket guide sets covering diagnostics, pediatrics, cochlear implants, vestibular testing, ototoxicity, and more.
The bathroom reminders to take off your hearing aids were inspired by countless patients who came in after accidentally showering with their devices. I always thought there should be something in the bathroom to help people remember. The stickers became one of the shop’s very first items, and now I have bathmats and shower curtains.
The car decals were inspired by a conversation I had with my aunt about Victoria. She said she was concerned that if Victoria’s cochlear implants flew off during an accident, emergency personnel would be unaware she was deaf. I then thought of several other scenarios where this would be helpful—being pulled over, drive-through windows, etc.
And the audiology office posters, which are available for digital download, grew out of wanting cute, inclusive hearing-themed infographics, which includes representations of various skin tones, and communication modalities that represent a wide range of options.
Handmade, With Heart
Most of my items are handmade by me: stickers, magnets, greeting cards, car decals, lanyards, and key fobs. I’ve started to do some clothing too, like baseball caps, onesies, and T-shirts. I outsource a few things, but I love making as much as I can myself. The pocket guides are printed locally in Brooklyn because supporting small businesses is important to me.
I constantly create new designs, such as illustrated greeting cards. I’m excited that for the holidays I designed “ugly” Christmas sweaters with sayings like “M-ear-y Christmas” and with hearing aid designs in place of candy canes.
And as the shop grows, I donate a portion of profits to organizations benefitting the Deaf/hard of hearing community. My ultimate long-term dream is to help provide free hearing aids and hearing healthcare in New York City using donated devices, funds, and time.
Hilary McManus, Au.D., is an audiologist at Oticon Medical. Find her at NYCAuD, “a one-woman shop creating modern, accessible tools for audiologists and the people they serve.” Her products are also available on Etsy. Find her on Instagram @NYCAuD. She also handles social media for Social With Purpose.
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While working in the clinic I realized how much I loved creating resources for patients—brochures, handouts, visual guides—mostly because I couldn’t find what I wanted online.