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. 

November 4 - An Air Canada Adventure

T’was the night before Christmas…well, not really, but it sure felt like it this past Thursday. Lyle and I had plans to go to B.C.’s Okanagan Valley. Lyle was to drive and I had decided to fly. The snow was falling.

I was a little anxious about the flight because it has been some time since I have flown alone. Still, my friend Shirley was driving me to the airport and basically handing me over to the Air Canada staff at the desk. I should have no worries. In fact, in Edmonton everything went very smoothly. This year we had purchased Maple Leaf Lounge passes, so that was my first stop after security. A huge thank you to Edna, Marie and Linda who looked after me there. The flight to Vancouver was uneventful and again I was ensconced in the Maple Leaf Lounge where Fanny and Monica made sure that I had everything I needed.

It was all fine until the time for me to board my next flight to Penticton. Lo and behold, winter had come early to BC’s interior. The snow was heavy, the visibility was near nil and the flight had been cancelled. Not only that, there were no more flights that night.

I managed to remain fairly calm, although not especially happy. The Air Canada staff who took charge of me were excellent. Somehow or other, a hotel room was arranged and a guide came to take me to the shuttle bus. As the woman who arranged this for me said, “You will just have to look on this as a new adventure!”

Getting to the hotel went smoothly, and the night manager showed me to my room and explained the buttons on the elevator. I slept reasonably well but retained some anxiety about the next morning.

Actually, as it turned out, the only mishap of the next day was mixing up the buttons in the elevator at the hotel. I think I pressed the alarm button instead of the lobby and I rode all the way up before someone else got on to press the right key.

The shuttle was good, but when we neared the airport, I remembered the confusion of the previous night. Vancouver Airport is big and I knew that where the shuttle dropped me off I would never be able to find my way to the check in counter.  Instead, I spoke up in the bus - “Is anyone here going to Air Canada?”

I was in luck. One kind passenger answered my call for help. I don’t know this gentleman’s name, but he was tall and had on white running shoes. Also, he was an Aussie! Well, he was born in Australia but had been here for twenty years.

I am most grateful to this stranger. He led me to the Air Canada desk, and although we were separated at that point, we met again at security and again at the boarding gate. Each time, this man acknowledged me to make sure I was okay. Again, when we landed in Penticton, my new friend made sure I had someone there to meet me. Possibly he doesn’t know just how grateful I was for the few words we exchanged, but he definitely did his good deed for the day.

So, if you do see someone with a white cane who looks as if they might be struggling, do please offer to help. Again, I am very grateful to everyone who made my unexpected flight delays into just a good feeling flight adventure.