March 30 - Would You Like A Muffin?

During the course of a month, I might easily attend several meetings. Usually at the conclusion of the formal part of the meeting, refreshments are served. Often the plate of goodies is passed around the table so each person can choose what they would like from the platter. Sometimes plates are laid out on a separate table or counter so that people can help themselves that way.   

Now the question. Would I like a muffin or a biscuit or a cake or a sandwich? This is the most difficult part for me. Certainly I would like a little treat of whatever is being offered but the difficulty is that I can’t see what is on the plate. So, do I bluff and reach out and take the top part of the sandwich, or perhaps stick my finger in the icing of a cake or maybe take two or three of the little biscuits when I misjudge what is there. I think that because I have responded during the meeting like all of the other sighted participants, people forget that I can’t see. Even though I have reasonable peripheral vision, I am unable to see the plate or what is on it even when it is placed right in front of me.

As well as gatherings where members are sighted, I attend a monthly support group meeting for people who have vision loss. At this meeting we overcome the challenge of serving refreshments by handing out individual plates or napkins. Before the refreshment is served there is an explanation as to what is on each plate. I don’t mind putting my fingers in my own cake icing or mangling my own sandwich or muffin. It is much better than handling and touching food that other people might want to eat.

If I am with friends, I am usually saved any embarrassment when they offer assistance. At a meeting last week, my friend Judy saw my hesitation about reaching for one of the snacks. Quite unobtrusively she told me what was on offer, asked what I would like, and placed it on my plate. Buffets are often a surprise to the taste buds unless I am with someone to help me through the line. All in all, it’s a good thing I’m not terribly fussy about food and I’m glad that I don’t have any food allergies. Who would have thought that selecting a particular muffin to eat could be such a challenge.

March 20 - Busy People

I have heard people say that when they retire, their lives just get busier. Well, I think that when people experience vision loss, the same can be said to be true. It just takes so much longer to do anything.

I am often frustrated with paper. I can’t see to read regular or even large size print. I do use a CCTV Reader which magnifies single words or numbers. However, reading documents of any length is very time consuming. I am always glad that I live in a digital age and sometimes I can listen to communications on my computer with my audible screen reading program. What I am trying to say is what would take a sighted person to read in less than a minute takes me very much longer.

Then there are appointments. Mostly a sighted person makes an appointment – medical, dental or whatever – and simply drives himself or herself to the particular location. A person with limited sight needs to arrange transportation and coordinate the timing of this with the appointment time. Often making transportation arrangements can be complicated. Whether the end result is a ride with a friend, or public transport, or specialized disability vehicle, the result can be – yes, you guessed it – time consuming.

Coping with the challenges of communication and transportation are two of the major difficulties in the life of a person who is sight disabled. We need a full twenty-four hours in the day to accomplish all that we would like to do. Once a friend asked me what I did with my days. Wasn’t I bored sitting at home doing nothing? The question took me by surprise! My days are nearly always full. I have learned to plan. Admittedly there isn’t much spontaneity in my life but I do keep busy.

 

March 2 - Sight and Sound

Last night Lyle and I were at a concert. As we waited for the performance to begin, I heard the woman sitting behind me remark that although she couldn’t see anything, she would be able to hear. Her comment mirrored my own thoughts. I knew that I couldn’t see the members of the choir in front of me, but I also knew that I would be able to hear their voices.

Some people express surprise when I tell them that I have been to a concert or a movie or some other performance. They ask what I get out of these things when I can’t see. I try to explain that sight isn’t the only aspect of enjoyment.

I do think that over the years of my diminished sight, I have become more attuned to sound. I like the sounds of our house. I like the hum of the fan when I turn our fireplace on in the morning. Often I can hear the barking of the neighbour’s dog. From our house I can hear the train whistle as it passes the crossing downtown – two long blasts, one short and another long. I love the chimes of my clock. I enjoy listening to my audio books. I check my text messages with Siri on my phone. Did you know that I have programmed Siri on my phone so that he speaks with an Australian accent? I miss some of these familiar sounds when Lyle and I are away from home.

Now I don’t think that I can hear any better simply because I can’t see. It’s not that my hearing has suddenly improved to compensate for my vision loss. I don’t believe that is the case. Instead, I think that I have become more attentive to the sounds around me. Possibly it is just that I have learned to listen to what I hear.

February 18 - White Canes

Last week I was at a presentation by a VLR orientation and mobility specialist demonstrating the different kinds of white canes. (VLR stands for Vision Loss and Rehabilitation.) Alex showed the group four types of canes and the various tips that could be attached to them. She explained how each tip was useful in detecting different ground surfaces. She stressed the benefits of using a cane when a person is visually challenged. She also stated that it was important for each person to find a cane that was most useful for his or her own situation.

I have had occasion to use each type of cane. In the early days of my vision loss, I tried a thin identity cane. The identity cane is held out in front of the user and its purpose is to alert others who might see the white stick and give them a heads up as to the low vision of the user. This would supposedly give them a hint to give the carrier of the identity cane a wider berth. Personally I didn’t find this helpful at all. Most people failed to notice the cane much less recognize its significance.

Then, after my knee surgery last year I tried a support cane. This cane is sturdy and although it is white in colour, I didn’t find that it carried any more significance than brown, black or gray canes with the same support function. While the cane was useful in supporting me with my healing knee, it didn’t give me an indication of the ground surface in front of me. It was useful in detecting the depth of a step – provided that I didn’t fall on the step in the first place!

For me the most useful cane has been the long mobility cane. I was amazed when I first tried out this cane in the hallway at a CNIB office. As I followed the sweep of the cane in front of me I felt a new confidence in moving forward. I could tell the difference in ground surface – tile or carpet – and I could follow along the sides of the hallway as the cane tip hit the edges.

Now you would think that with this amazing new freedom, I would be set to roll. This wasn’t the case. When I arrived home, I was hesitant to use my new cane in my local neighbourhood. I’m not sure why there was this juxtaposition of attitude. The positive benefit of using the white cane was obvious. I felt safer and more confident in my movements. Why then the reluctance?

I have spoken with other white cane users who have experienced a similar feeling. Partly, it is the idea of feeling different. We don’t like to draw attention to what could be regarded as a disability. There is an unspoken stigma. Some people have also spoken of the fear of being taken advantage of when the cane so clearly indicates their inability to see. Even now I sometimes choose when I will use my cane and when I can manage without it. In familiar indoor settings, I can find my way unaided by my cane. In busy unfamiliar settings I feel lost without it.

Using a white cane isn’t only a practical step forward in a journey with vision loss. There is also an emotional and psychological hurdle to overcome. While not being able to see is the obvious driving force behind deciding whether or not a person should take up a white cane, there are often other underlying factors that complicate making such a decision. For me, the benefits outweigh any negative outcomes.

There is a picture with this post. I am standing on one of the walking trails near our home. It is winter and the colour of my cane tends to blend in with the snowy conditions.

Sue with cane on a snowy path

February 7 - Feeling Discouraged

I am not usually easily discouraged. In fact, generally speaking I am fairly optimistic. This was not the case on a day last week.

I was at Smart Life in Calgary. Smart Life is an organization that offers an opportunity to try out various assistive devices for people who are visually challenged. Smart Life also offers training in using the equipment. I was there to see what was new and also to get some help in using my smart phone.

I can do quite a bit with my phone. With an audible Siri, I can send and receive text messages. I can use my voice to call numbers on my contact list. I can listen to the time and temperature in multiple cities around the world. I can hear the battery level on the phone and even turn the flashlight and camera on and off. In spite of all this, I know that there is much that I can’t do and don’t know about. This was obvious when I met with Curtis who was my trainer for the afternoon.

At first Curtis tried to lead me through enlarged print on the screen. Then he tried different colours of print on different coloured backgrounds. While I appreciated these efforts, I knew that I would not be able to see the print. As we eliminated each variation, it was discouraging to admit each time, and time again, that I couldn’t see what was on the screen. It reminded me of my early days of vision loss when I needed to describe what I was seeing, or rather not seeing, to employers, doctors and friends.

Anyway, after losing the efforts with print, Curtis went on to demonstrate Voice Over and Screen Speak to me. These are two audible programs that I would be able to use with my phone. Both would give me more information than I was currently using with Siri. Curtis was patient with his guidance and I was doing not too badly. The discouraging part was that it was so much to learn. I came away from the lesson feeling flooded with information and discouraged by the idea that I had a new learning challenge.

This was a week ago now. In the meantime, Curtis has generously emailed me the gist of how to operate the two new systems and I am trying! Possibly the best piece of information that Curtis gave me was that whatever I did, I wouldn’t break my phone. This has given me the impetus to be more adventurous with my phone and the incentive to experiment with more finger taps and gestures. I am trying to stay optimistic and not be too discouraged with temporary failures.

January 27 - Left Right

Last week was the first class back at yoga after the holiday break. For me it was an even longer break since my knee surgery last July. Everyone was still chatting as I sat down to take out my indoor shoes. I was struggling to discern which was left and which was right when the woman in the next chair leaned over and said, ”You do realize that you have shoes from two different pairs, don’t you?”

Of course I didn’t realize that at all! When my friend came over to assist me, it turned out that I definitely had shoes from two different pairs. At least I had grabbed the left foot from one and a right foot from the other. Even if the styles didn’t quite match and the colours didn’t either, I did have the semblance of a pair.

While I am usually fairly careful about choosing matching outfits, I do tend to buy shoes in similar styles. So, over the holidays when I reorganized my closet I must have put  the two pairs of shoes back in their wrong spots.

Unfortunately this isn’t the first time I have made this fashion error. I remember once when Lyle and I were shopping. We had stopped at a number of small stores where I was trying on clothes. It wasn’t until we were home again that Lyle told me I was wearing unmatched shoes. He said that he didn’t tell me while we were out as he didn’t want me to be embarrassed. Of course I was embarrassed just thinking about it!

Possibly nowadays, wearing unmatched outfits is a fashion statement in itself, but I am still of the old school and like to feel coordinated. Nevertheless, wearing two right shoes or two left shoes at the same time could be a mite uncomfortable.

 

January 18 - Change

I really don’t like change! I know that I am set in my ways, but one of the ways that a visually impaired person learns to cope is through repetition. Keeping things the same just makes life easier.

The other day at the swimming pool I was waxing eloquently about this topic. I was in the change room when a woman I knew slightly began telling me how brave I was to be at the swimming pool by myself. I explained that there wasn’t any problem because at the pool, everything always stayed the same. The lockers were the same, the showers were the same and the entry to the pool didn’t change. I think that I sounded quite confident as I left her to continue with her swimsuit and I headed to the water.

I made my way to the steps at the shallow end of the pool ...but what was this? There weren’t any steps!

Just then the lifeguard came rushing up to me. “Oh!” she said. ”I should have warned you. We moved the steps today. They are at the other end of the pool.”

My confidence went down a notch or two as I made my way back to where I had obviously passed the new location for the steps. The steps are movable and probably the only thing in the whole aquaplex that isn’t a fixture. I began to giggle. I had been so pleased with myself as I explained to the woman in the change room just how well I could manage. Then for the first time in possibly years, the steps had been changed.

As I did my laps, I thought of how much I depend on things staying the same. Repetition and familiarity  help me to cope in so many ways. It is change that throws me for a loop.