November 3 - Sight Awareness

The other day I heard this story. A man was going to visit his friend. The friend was completely blind. When the man arrived at the house, it was in darkness – no lights showing anywhere. Nevertheless, he rang the doorbell and soon he heard footsteps on the other side. His friend was glad to see him and invited him in to follow her to the kitchen at the back of the house. She led the way down the hallway but within a few steps, the man had tripped and stumbled into some object in his path. The friend was very apologetic. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I forgot that you are sighted and can’t see in the dark.”

I like this story. For me, it shows that when we know people well, we tend to forget the differences in our eyesight. As people we are defined by so much more than just our ability to see or not to see. Although it can sometimes be frustrating, I am nearly always pleased when my friends tell me that they sometimes forget that I can’t see. Instead we have a relationship that goes further than our physical ability to see. Our vision of friendship or family ties extends beyond that one single aspect of our being.

Yes, it’s good to be aware of sight differences, but in my opinion that one ability to see or not to see shouldn’t be the sole focus of a relationship.

October 21 - Emergency Response

It was just after three in the morning when the hotel fire alarm sounded, pulling us from sleep. We were a bit sluggish in our first reaction but we knew what to do. When the alarm continued to shriek we dressed quickly and made our way to the emergency stairwell. I was glad that we were only on the fifth floor up and not in a penthouse suite. We were nearly at ground level when three firemen in full gear passed us on their way up. Outside we passed by the three fire trucks to join others standing around in the parking lot.

As it turned out, the whole thing was a false alarm triggered by a water leak near the hotel electrical system. The experience though brought a couple of thoughts clearly to mind.  I think that it was as we passed the fire emergency personnel climbing up the stairway that Lyle and I both thought of the horrific events of Nine Eleven. On that day, nobody realized exactly what was happening – least of all the first responders who valiantly ascended the stairs of the Trade Centre.

My second thought was more one of reflection. Because the alarm was in the middle of the night and Lyle and I were together, we were able to make our exit together as well. However, had I been in the room alone, I knew that I would have been able to respond independently. Whenever I am in a closed space – a hotel room, a theatre, a restaurant, an airplane – I make sure that I know where the emergency exits are located. I feel that I need to take personal responsibility in reacting to an emergency. Of course, this is no guarantee to safety or even survival, but I need to depend on my own actions and not rely on others who also need to look after themselves. It is a good rule of thumb for anyone to have an emergency response plan in place, but especially so for those of us who have vision challenges.

October 3 – Can’t See to Drive

It’s been many years now since my sight first changed, and I still miss the freedom and convenience of being behind the wheel. Last week as we were travelling through the mountains, Lyle spotted one of those tourist cut outs featuring a 56 Ford Thunderbird. He encouraged me to sit behind the wheel saying, “Here, you’ll really look as if you are driving again.”

If you can see the picture at the end of this post, you might agree with him. Apparently, it is quite realistic.

Of course, all this doesn’t change the fact that legally I can’t drive on public roads. Back in the day, I found this hard to explain to our daughter who had only just turned seven. We were on farmland and I was given the task of bringing the truck home to the yard. Jen couldn’t understand that while I couldn’t drive her around town, I could still operate the gears on the truck and drive through an open field. I still had the skill to drive but not the sight to see where I was going.

For many people who have had the privilege of being able to see but have lost vision in their adult years, losing the independence that comes with a driver’s license is a major blow. Yes, there are often other means of transport – taxi, bus, train, obliging friends or family members, but it isn’t the same. A car and a license to drive offer independence. They offer the opportunity of spontaneous decisions of where and when you might decide to go.

I am fortunate. I have Lyle in my life and we have worked out a system so that I don’t feel totally dependent. I have friends who will take me to appointments if I mention that I need a driver. Sure these things require making concessions on my part, but certainly it is better than sitting at home and feeling sorry for myself.

What do you think of the picture with this post? I like the background with the painted mountains, and Lyle says that the Thunderbird is a really cool car to drive.

 

 

September 14 - A Lost Art

The older I get and the less I am able to see, the more illegible my handwriting has become. I feel sad about this. Somehow or other, I feel that my writing is part of my identity and now it is disappearing.

I have good memories of seeing the handwriting of several people in my life. My grandmother had a lovely cursive script. I imagine that in her youth she likely used a fountain pen. My mother’s writing was clear and obviously a bit more hurried. When I first moved to Canada, by mother and grandmother wrote to me regularly. I loved those aerogramme letters with so much crammed into the small space that was available.

Recently while I was doing some de-cluttering, I came across a letter written to my father by an old friend of his. The writing was thin and spidery. It brought back memories of the man himself – a small wiry seafaring man. Even the content had a touch of nostalgia as it began with the greeting “Hello old chum”. My father and Ted were good mates who often shared a pint or two whenever they got together.

These days, in many schools throughout the country, writing by hand isn’t taught any more. I know that our grandchildren look at words written in cursive as almost a foreign language. The print on a keyboard has taken over. Indeed, that is how I am writing right now. There are very few occasions when I need to sign my name and even fewer when I would need to write more than just a few words.

There are some benefits to the print produced by a keyboard. There is a consistency to the script and in most cases it is easier to decipher. Nevertheless, I miss the personality of hand writing. Writing by hand has become much of a lost art.

 

 

 

 

 

September 3 – Taking a Tumble

Many people who have low vision can report a time when they took a tumble. In my case, I can recall several such occasions. This has not been because of my lack of balance but rather that I have missed seeing some obstacle right in front of me.

The most severe of these falls was a number of years ago now. Lyle and I were helping friends move some furniture. We were outside and I wasn’t using my cane. Instead, Lyle was moving the front end of a table while I came along holding the rear end. However, when Lyle turned a corner with the table, I kept going and landed in the culvert at the side of the path. That particular fall landed me initially in a wheelchair and then on crutches for several weeks.

Since then I have had a couple of falls on stairs – again not using my cane. That leads me to my most recent tumble. Would you believe in a badger hole! Lyle and I had been camping in a somewhat isolated rural area. We had stopped at a convenient bench to savour the view. Then, when it was time to leave, Lyle decided to walk closer to the lake while I made my way up the slope to the gravel road. I was doing well until my left foot plunged knee deep into the hole. I was fortunate in that the badger wasn’t currently using its den and also that I didn’t break any bones.

Interestingly, I had been using walking sticks, but unlike my cane, which I use in front of me to clear the path, my sticks were slanted out to the side. The only good thing was that as I fell backwards, the sticks did help to somewhat break my fall. I ended up head down on the slope and my first thought was that I was glad nobody was around to see my undignified tumble - except for Lyle that is. I needed his help to get vertical again.

As a person with low vision I know that I need to be extra careful when I am walking. Taking care doesn’t mean that I should stop outdoor activities but simply that I should take a bit more care than perhaps someone with full vision. I don’t want to break any bones and in future, I will definitely avoid badger holes.

 

 

 

August 23 - Summer Holidays

It’s summer and in between mowing grass, gardening and spring cleaning, Lyle and I have been taking little trips not too far from home. I feel very fortunate that Lyle likes to drive. When my sight first changed, I found it difficult to sit just as a passenger, but nowadays I kind of like the idea of sitting back and for Lyle to take the wheel.

We both like being outside in the summer months. This year the mosquitoes have been a bit of a problem. I really don’t like them but they seem to like me. The annoying part is that if I don’t feel them land on my skin, I certainly don’t see them until it’s too late.

This year, one of our little trips was to Fort Macleod, a small town in southern Alberta. In the early days it was a thriving post for the North West Mounted Police and today the site celebrates that history. We took a walking tour around the restored buildings of the fort and stayed on to watch a performance of the musical ride.

We began our tour viewing the buildings around the courtyard. There was a boardwalk that I found easy enough to navigate with my white cane. However, there were a few gaps in the boards and I imagine that navigating with a wheelchair would be too difficult. From there we proceeded to the air-conditioned museum section before exiting to the benches around the parade ground for the musical ride performance.

In spite of not being able to see the horses and riders, the show was quite entertaining. The maneuvers were accompanied by a description from a loud speaker system and I could hear the sound of the horses when they came close to the fence. After the ride, we were able to go to the stables and see the horses close up and to ask the young riders any questions we might have. That was the best part for me.

There is a picture with this post. I am standing beside one of the horses in the stable. The riders all wore red woolen uniforms replicating the original ones of the mounted police. It was exceptionally hot on the day we were there and I’m sure that the riders were only too pleased to discard their uniforms after the show. Each horse had a maple leaf brushed into the side of its rump. It was quite effective. If you go to Fort Macleod, be sure to stay for the musical ride performance and the visit afterwards at the stables.

 

Sue with horse

 

August 14 - A Full Fridge

A feel a little guilty when I write about my refrigerator being full while there are many people who struggle to put food on the table. Let me assure you that I am grateful Lyle and I don’t need to be concerned about buying food. Instead, my frustration is the organization of the items in the fridge - items that have not been placed there by me.

Ordinarily I would be able to tell you where everything in my fridge is located - margarine, eggs and cheese on the top shelf, milk to the right on the next shelf with juice to the left, casseroles and leftovers next shelf down - well, you get the picture. However, over the past ten days have had family either staying with us or at least eating meals with us. They have been very generous contributing to and sharing the cost of groceries. They also stacked the items they brought in the fridge, on the kitchen counters, and in the cupboards. While I loved the company, finding items or even identifying them was a major source of frustration for me.

It is so much easier for those of us with low vision or no vision when everything stays in the usual place. This goes for food in the fridge, clothes and shoes in the closet, and the furniture in the living room.

Our company has gone home now and I miss the noise and even the chaos. Our house is quiet - too quiet really. Perhaps a full fridge is not so bad after all!