July 12 - Sight and Speech

I haven’t told you yet how I first suspected that I might have had a stroke. Nor have I mentioned what I now see as the connection I have between sight and speech. Let me take you back to the beginning of this saga.

Each morning I play Wordle with my daughter. It is our way of saying good morning to each other and having a little fun with a word puzzle. Each morning, I go to my cell phone and ask Siri to send a text message to Jennifer. On the morning in question, Siri couldn’t understand what I said and I had trouble getting out the words I wanted to say. When I tried to explain this to Lyle, he also noticed the change in my speech. With strong prompting from both our son and daughter, we knew it was time to go to the hospital emergency room.

In the past, I have often thought about sight and the connections between other senses. Mostly I have thought about diminished sight and an increased awareness of sound, smell and touch. I have also thought about an increased dependence on memory. Truthfully though, I have never thought just how much I depend on speech and how much speech is a part of my identity. The first hours and days after my stroke reinforced just how dependent we all are on the ability to verbally express ourselves.

While my stroke inhibited my ability to get the words out, I also lost the ability to use expression with my voice. Because I don’t see facial features, I rely heavily on the nuances of speech when others are speaking with me. With my new jerky and hesitant speech, now it was other people who needed to listen more carefully to what I was saying. It was frustrating all around. We were discovering together that expression of speech was just as important as the words themselves.

Let me finish this post with optimism. I’m sure I don’t know how the brain works, but nearly a month after my initial stroke, one night I found that I could speak nearly normally again. It was as if my brain had flipped some sort of switch. I can’t pretend to understand how this might have happened. Unfortunately this phase didn’t last. I’m still not back to 100% for sure, but I’m a lot closer to it than I was. I will be continuing with speech therapy over the next while until I meet my goal of normal and fluent speech again.

 

 

 

 

July 6 - Hospital Stay (Part 2)

Over the past few days I have continued to reflect on my stay in hospital. I thought that I might elaborate on a couple of aspects here.

Meals: The meals were okay but I did lose weight. At meal time, a tray was placed in front of each patient and I grew accustomed to where the various dishes, drinks and cutlery were placed on the tray. However, there were a couple of times I ran into difficulty.

Usually, different aides would ask if they could help in removing lids, etc. However, twice when I wasn’t paying attention, aides got to my tray before I did. The lids were removed before I felt what I anticipated what would be covered dishes. One time I stuck my hand into my water glass. This wasn’t too bad. At least it wasn’t hot coffee. The other time I stuck my fingers into some sticky substance. I think it was dessert but I had to eat the rest of the meal with sticky hands.

Motto: If you are going to help someone, be sure to ask first if your help is needed and explain what you are doing.

I was grateful when staff offered to fill out my menu request for the next day. This was certainly something I couldn’t do on my own.

Mobility: I was fortunate in that my stroke didn’t affect my mobility. For the ten days I was in hospital, I determined that I would attempt to keep as much as possible to my routine of walking. I soon discovered that this was best to do either early in the morning or later after the evening meal when most other patients were in bed or at least in their rooms. The problem with this routine was the staff. Everything seems to be digitalized these days and the hospital computer screens were mounted on larger rolling wheels. While this was convenient for the staff, it was most inconvenient for me when staff left the equipment int the middle of the hallways. I was sure that sometimes they could see me coming with my cane, but rarely did they seem to make an attempt to move to the side.

Advocacy: As I mentioned in my previous post, a hospital stay these days makes having an advocate for your needs almost imperative. Staff seemed to me to be flooded with information but this wasn’t always conveyed to the patient. Patient records were kept diligently and in detail. Staff seemed to be always tapping away to make effusive notes on each patient. Lyle wondered how they would ever have time to read everything that was written. I tended to agree with his summation.

For instance, I was due to have a test where I was to have no caffeine for 24 hours prior and nothing to eat or drink the morning of. Nobody conveyed this information to me or to the early morning staff. I had my usual cup of tea, was taken down to the cardiac unit, only to discover that my full day of tests needed to be postponed for another 24 hours. What is that saying about the left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing?

Time: My days in hospital went quickly with various appointments and the nights tended to crawl. I couldn’t see the wall clocks and I was so glad that I had my audible watch with me. My original watch battery had expired only a couple of weeks previously and I had only had my new one for a week or so. I guess that timing was everything!

Having said all this, I must say that in general, I found the nursing staff and doctors to be most helpful. My gratitude to all who work in the medical profession. What would we do without you!

Thank you, thank you!

 

June 30 - Blind in Hospital

Life is full of surprises. Unfortunately, they aren’t all good surprises. Two weeks ago and out of the blue, I ended up in the emergency room of our local hospital. It turned out that I had had a small stroke.

God was looking after me that day. After an initial examination, I was sent on to the larger city hospital. The series of tests that followed – blood work, an ECG, a CT scan and an MRI – was all a bit of a blur. I didn’t have to think much – just go in whatever direction I was pushed. Lyle was with me when we met with the neurologist. It turned out that the stroke had seemingly only affected my speech. Within hours, I was admitted to the Stroke Ward. To be admitted so quickly was a miracle in itself.

For the next two days, I was monitored fairly closely. Each time there was a change in staff, Lyle was there to make sure that they knew of my sight challenges. It was too difficult to pin my low vision ID badge to my hospital gown and I didn’t need my white cane while I was in a wheel chair. We needed to advocate for ourselves if there was to be any special assistance.

On the third night, I was transferred to the Rehabilitation Unit. This was the most confusing part of my hospital stay. Lyle had gone home for the night and I was quite disoriented in my new surroundings. The next morning, I needed a guide to lead me to the dining area and find a vacant spot at a table. I felt helpless, a feeling I hadn’t experienced since my initial vision loss those many years ago now. It was a relief when Lyle arrived later in the morning to orient me to the new room. As I was now able to dress in street clothes, he also brought two of my ID badges and several of my cards with this blog address. With my new hesitant speech, I found it both difficult and exhausting to try to explain to staff that my vision loss had nothing to do with the stroke.

I am home again now and waiting to begin speech therapy. I also have several more medical appointments lined up. Hopefully the worst is over and I can begin recovery.

In retrospect, I am looking back to my hospital stay as an opportunity to educate hospital staff personnel – technicians, nurses and yes, even doctors – as to the need, challenges, and also the capabilities and abilities of someone who is visually impaired or legally blind. I hope that I have done a good job with this. Although I didn’t ask for this opportunity, I hope that in some small way I have paved the way for other blind or visually impaired people who might find themselves as hospital patients.

June 25 - Seeing Colour

We were at a function when a friend said to me, "I really like that shade of purple you’re wearing." I had to stop myself from turning around. Could this friend be talking to me? I had always thought that the blouse I was wearing was pink!

I find it difficult to distinguish between various shades of colour. Obviously, I don’t do well with pink and purple, but differences between black, navy and brown and even dark green are also hard to tell apart. I know that it doesn’t really matter what colours I am wearing, but I do try to match.

How do I overcome this? Well, in my wardrobe I hang matching colours together. For instance, with my navy pants, I hang any blue toned blouses or jackets. The trick then is to put the clothes back on the corresponding hangers after they have been worn.

In the beginning stages of my vision loss, I used to fret about matching socks. Again, it was the difference between black, brown and navy or white versus beige. My friend Norma told me how she solved the problem. At that stage, she did have some limited sight, so she only bought either black or white socks and always of the same brand.

I have followed this advice. As Norma told me – “Hardly anyone ever looks at the colour of socks anyway.”

The other day, Chelsea and I were laughing about the times we have worn mismatched shoes or sandals. The key here is storage and organization. It is helpful to replace a pair of shoes together. That way they are there when next you go to look for them.

While all this sounds very simple, it is easy enough to be rushed when a person is busy. The lesson is to take the extra minutes to be organized. When a person can’t see to look for lost or misplaced items or colours, it is even more important to take those few extra minutes to be organized.  

The last word – if you do happen to mess up, you can always say that it’s just a fashion statement!

June 17 - Blind or Partially Sighted

So, did you think about the question from my last post? In your mind’s eye, what do you see when you think of someone who is blind or partially sighted?

In my adolescent years, we lived near the office of Vision Australia. Sometimes at the railway station I would catch sight of people who were blind coming or going from there. In my memory, they were nearly all young or middle aged men. I knew they were blind because they wore dark glasses and used white canes. I don’t recall seeing any person with a guide dog.

Until my own sight challenges, this was my image of what a blind person looked like – a male wearing dark glasses and using a white cane. I had never even heard the current politically correct term “partially sighted”.

This image has undergone a considerable change since my own vision loss. Personal connections with other people who have diminished sight has expanded and improved my original and misinformed perception. People who are blind or partially sighted come in all shapes and sizes and from many varied backgrounds. Blindness doesn’t discriminate when it comes to age, race or gender.

This became very clear to me when Lyle and I undertook our series of white cane walks across Canada. In the course of those walks we encountered literally hundreds of people who were coping with the challenges of vision loss. Some used a white cane, some were guided with their hand tucked to the elbow of a friend or family member. A few were assisted by a guide dog. The youngest participant on our walks was a four-year old boy. The oldest was a ninety-nine year old woman. We didn’t require any registration for our walks so we were never sure just who would come to participate.

I do remember a walk at Sault Saint Marie. We had arrived early and were waiting by the water when a group of well-dressed men arrived – all wearing dark glasses. Was this to be our group for the day’s walk? As it turned out – no! This was simply a group of business men ready to join a function on a waiting boat launch. Unless you are paying attention or know who to expect, there really isn’t much difference in the physical appearance of someone who is blind from someone who is fully sighted.

So, what does a blind person look like? There is no one answer. Without the accompanying cane or dog-guide, someone who can’t see could look like anyone else. There is no one defining physical feature.  Perhaps that is why I use my white cane or wear my low vision ID badge. There are some situations when it is helpful for me to be identified as a person with a visual challenge.

 

 

 

June 8 – Here’s Looking At You

Mark and I were chatting about the various aspects of blindness, when he looked at me and said, “You know, if I didn’t know that you couldn’t see, I wouldn’t know that you couldn’t see.”

This outward appearance of being sighted even when the opposite is true, is one of the more interesting aspects of blindness. It is also likely one of the more confusing aspects that confront people who  themselves are able to see. If my eyes look the same on the outside, how can it be that I can’t see from the inside looking out?

When Mark made the above comment, we had been talking together for a little bit already. We were sitting in comfortable chairs with no need to move about. My white cane wasn’t visible. There wasn’t anything that I needed to read or have read to me. There wasn’t any outward sign of my sight challenges. We were just two people having a chat.

As is my usual practice, I had been trying to “look” at Mark as he spoke. I remember another completely blind friend telling me that this is what he tried to do. He couldn’t see, but if it made the other person more comfortable in the conversation he would try to focus on the direction of the voice. To me this made sense and generally speaking I try to do just that.

I think that is what had Mark fooled. I wasn’t trying to hide my vision loss, but there was no need to show it either. Mark’s observation led to another interesting topic. What does it look like to be blind?  Do you have a picture in your head of what a blind person “looks like”? Perhaps this is a topic I can explore in another post.In the meantime – Here’s Looking At You!

 

 

May 31 - Guide Dogs

Each year the Lions Foundation of Canada holds fund raising walks to support their dog guide program. The walks are held nationally in towns and cities across the country. Our local chapter of Lions has been supporting the cause for a number of years.  Knowing the importance of the money raised, I usually try to participate in the annual walk.

The Lions Foundation offers guide dogs to Canadians who are in need of the service. This isn’t only for people who are visually impaired, but could also be for the hearing impaired or for people with other forms of a mobility disability. The cost to raise, train and then match each dog with a potential owner is around $35,000. The dogs are then offered to the new owners free of charge.

If you want to find out more about the program, you can google "Lions foundation of Canada, Dog Guides". You might also want to mark the date for next year’s fund raising walk – May 31, 2026.

There is a picture with this post. I am standing beside my friend Irma near the beginning of this years walk. We have walked together for a number of years now. You might call the picture the long and short of it. I am tall and there is quite the difference in our two heights. In the background is a path leading to a bridge across the river. It is a lovely place to walk.

Sue and Irma on the path