December 20 - Blind Navigator

Lyle and I have just come home from a short trip to Los Angeles and I am still thinking how grateful I am for the invention of the GPS device. It is tricky enough to find one’s way around an unfamiliar and busy city but the GPS certainly makes things easier. You might be wondering why I am writing this when I don’t see to drive, but let me say that even a blind passenger has a certain role as a navigator.

In the old days and when I could see a bit better than I do now, Lyle and I had a different plan of action. Before we left home base to find our way through a maze of unfamiliar freeways, Lyle would take out a paper map. From this he would plot our route and together we would mark the various turns with a thick felt marker on large pieces of white paper. When we set out, I would be responsible for holding out the paper where he could see the directions and then I would turn the page when appropriate. Strangely this worked fairly well unless we happened to miss a turn or take the wrong exit. Then we would need to find a place to park and start all over again. It didn’t help that I couldn’t see to read the street signs or the names and numbers of exits.

With the GPS, life is much simpler. Lyle puts in our destination address and off we go. My job is still important. I must remember to be quiet when the GPS is talking. That is a tall order for me because I do like to talk! Then I must also listen to the GPS directions. If Lyle happens to be distracted by traffic, and let’s face it, LA is notorious for heavy traffic and busy intersecting freeways, I  can quietly repeat the same  GPS directions. I have become a fairly competent blind navigator.

December 10 - Handicap Parking

Did you know that in Alberta, people who are either visually impaired or hearing impaired are not eligible for a handicap parking sticker? Lyle and I find this unwise and really a form of discrimination.

We are especially aware of not being able to park in specially marked parking near the door of a business during this busy holiday season. It is quite a blow to my independence when I need the driver of my vehicle to accompany me to the door or entrance of whichever business I am visiting. Still, it would not be safe for me to find my way alone through a crowded parkade, even more so if the parking lot is unfamiliar to me. There are many hazards in parking lots – unattended shopping carts, cement barriers, hanging signs and worst of all, moving vehicles. Of course, the vehicles are the worst because drivers are frequently looking for empty spaces and are not paying special attention to wandering pedestrians even if they do happen to be using a white cane.  Parkades are often shaded, making it difficult for drivers to see, and the glare of the sun in outside parking lots is sometimes blinding.

Now those are just the issues of going from the car to the building. When it comes time to re-enter the parkade, I face all of those challenges plus the major concern of finding the vehicle  again. If Lyle has found a spot reasonably close to the door or entryway, I can count vehicles. If not, I have no way of finding my way back and I have lost my independent mobility.

I know that handicap parking is reserved for people with physical mobility challenges, but isn’t a sight or hearing impairment a form of this? What do you think?  Should people with visual or hearing challenges be issued with parking stickers  which allow their drivers to park in handicap zones?

Isn’t this a form of discrimination?

November 30 - I Like My Hairdresser

I like my hairdresser. Her name is Linda and she has been cutting my hair for a number of years now. I like her because when I go for my appointment, I don’t have to pretend that I can see. Nor does Linda make a big fuss about my sight or lack of it.

While it’s true that most of us go to the beauty salon to be made beautiful, we also go as a matter of convenience. I certainly don’t like it when my hair falls down over my eyebrows. I do like it when friends tell me that my hair is looking especially nice on any given day. While I can certainly tell about the hair over the eyebrows, I can’t see myself in the mirror to tell whether my hair looks nice or not.

This is where Linda comes in. She knows how I like to have my hair done. Instead of holding the mirror at the end of a cut, she gives me time to check out the length with my fingers. I like my hair short so the width of three fingers at the top is about right. Linda gives me time to do this. She never embarrasses me by flashing the hand held mirror around asking me if I like the way I look.

When I decide to have some highlights in my hair, Linda has to be the total judge. She writes down the formula for each time and Lyle is the last check when I leave the salon. I think that by now Linda has it down to a fine art.

I also like the familiarity of going into the same salon each time I need my hair done. Linda will watch for me. If she is still busy with another client, she will call out to me so that I can take a seat in the waiting area. If she is ready for me, she will call me over to her chair making sure that there aren’t any obstacles in my way. She turns the chair so that it is ready for me and on occasion has steered my hand to the side arm of the chair so I can “see” where to sit down.

 While all these things might seem trivial to someone who can see what is going on, they make a huge difference to me. It is surprising how such small things can be so helpful to someone with vision loss,  especially when the help is offered without fuss or drama.

As I wrote in the beginning, I like my hairdresser.

November 22 - What Do I See?

Sometimes people will ask me what it is that I see. Their question is sincere, but I often respond by saying what it is that I am unable to see. For instance, I might respond by saying that I can’t see the person’s face or the writing on a piece of paper or a picture on a cell phone. This seems to be a satisfying enough answer. Nevertheless, I am personally surprised at the inconsistencies I notice with my sight.

The other morning I was sitting in my comfortable chair and looking at a picture on the opposite wall. It is quite a beautiful picture in a large frame. In fact, we have two pictures of the same setting. Each is of a cliff face by the ocean. They are actually images taken by a professional photographer. One shows the landscape in the pearly white of early morning and the other was taken in the orange glow of sunset. I like both but because they are so large, only one will fit nicely onto the wall at the same time. Consequently, I sometimes change them around with the morning view in the bedroom and the sunset in our living room and then vice versa.

This particular morning, I had been reflecting on the one in the living room. The images have a very nostalgic feel for me as both were taken within a stone’s throw of where my parents used to live. The interesting part of all this is that after several minutes of contemplation, I couldn’t remember which of the two I was looking at. It was a sad moment when I realized that I couldn’t actually see the picture but was merely remembering what I thought I could see.

It’s now been close on thirty years since my initial vision loss, and I do find it hard to explain to people what it is that I can see. There are a number of things in our house, and I suppose elsewhere as well, that I think I can see, but really the image is just in my mind or perhaps in my memory. I can’t really see them with my eyes. It’s such a strange phenomenon and I’m not sure that I have explained myself properly even now. I wonder if others with limited vision have similar sight experiences.