June 11 - Vision Loss Adjustments

When my sight first declined, I learned that there were certain adjustments that would make my new life easier to manage. One basic rule was – “A place for everything, and everything in its place.” Of course this rule is a good one for everyone in any circumstance, but it is even more so for someone with vision loss.

When I could see, looking for lost or misplaced items was a nuisance. Now that I can’t see as well, looking for those same items is more than just a minor inconvenience. It is a major frustration. When I could see, it was just a case of looking around until I spotted the lost item.  Now that I don’t see as well, it is important for me to remember the exact location of where I might have put those items I use on a more or less daily basis.

Of course, like many people I learned this lesson the hard way. As a sighted person, I was quite casual in where I put things down. At the beginning of my sight loss journey, I used to wear prescription glasses. I was forever setting them down beside before moving on to another activity. One spot was to put them on the chair where I had been sitting. I discovered the error of my ways when I sat down again – yes, you guessed it – right on the glasses. The frames were bent and I needed to head on down to the local optometrist to explain my situation. If you think that was bad, consider my embarrassment when later on in the same day, I repeated my mistake. 

In those early days, I seemed to be constantly “losing” small objects. Where did I leave my keys? My wallet? The phone? I’m still not perfect, but I am definitely more aware. The keys have their place beside the coffee pot. My wallet is in the top drawer and fortunately I no longer wear glasses.

A place for everything and everything in its place. It’s a simple rule but a practice that can save both time and wasted energy.

June 1 - Guide Dogs

This past Sunday was the Lions Foundation National Walk for Dog Guides. Traditionally, this annual walk is held on the last Sunday in May. This year it was indeed on the very last day in May. For the past several years Lyle and I have participated in the fund raising walk and I am so grateful to the many people who sponsor me in the endeavour.

Sometimes people ask me why I don’t apply for a guide dog myself. It feels strange for me to answer that I actually have too much vision. I say strange, because that is a statement I don’t use very often. Let me explain. Although I frequently don’t see things directly in front of me, I have good peripheral sight when it comes to movement. I’m afraid that I would be constantly pulling on the leash of a guide dog instead of letting the dog do the guiding work. I tend to get startled by things that I think I can see and would likely jerk to a stop or pull away. This would be quite confusing for a dog trying to guide me. I know that Lyle often has to remind me that he is the one who can see and I should let him lead the way and not rely on my phantom sightings.

The Lions Foundation provides dog guides to Canadians in several circumstances of need, not just vision impairment. At our local walk on Sunday, we heard from the recipient of a Lions dog guide who worked with Victims Services. They had recently returned from the Oakville Centre in Ontario where the match between dog and person had been made and the two week training session had taken place. The whole process of training and transportation is covered by the Lions Foundation at a cost of $35,000 per match. What an amazing service for Canadians in need.

May 21 - GPS

GPS or Global Positioning System is a location and navigational device. As a pedestrian I often use a hand held GPS to figure out where I am and where I need to be going. In our vehicle, Lyle nearly always sets the GPS for our next destination. I wonder what we did in the old days without a GPS to lead the way.

Well, I do know what we did in our vehicle. In the very early days before we set out on a trip, we both looked at paper maps. Then came the time when my eyes couldn’t see to read the print on the map and I couldn’t help Lyle with directions while we were in motion. That is when we became more creative. Before a drive into unfamiliar territory, Lyle would study the paper map and then use a black felt marker to print out abbreviated directions on pieces of paper. He would place these in order and with each new turn of direction I would hold up the next instruction. This was okay as long as I kept the pieces of paper in order and Lyle was still able to read them in spite of any surrounding traffic or other distractions. An audible GPS has been a much better solution than this large print paper version.

As a partially sighted passenger I also find a GPS beneficial. Primarily the system relieves me of the responsibility of being the navigator. Secondly, I like to know where I am. I can’t see to read road signs or see even large landmarks, but the GPS audibly gives me location information. I can assist Lyle as a second set of ears to the navigation directions. I suppose that with years of relying on audio cues rather than the visual, my listening skills are more highly attuned. It’s one way of looking on the positive and I don’t need to keep nagging Lyle as to where we are and how long it will be before we get to our destination.

On another note, I would venture to say that a GPS can either break or save a relationship. It is quite lovely not to have to concentrate on location and direction when the GPS knows the way. Lyle and I can indulge in the pleasure of the drive. On the other hand, when the GPS loses the satellite signal in the midst of high buildings, mountains, or as in our most recent trip through rural Saskatchewan, the driver, Lyle, and the passenger, me, might also lose something called patience.

I suppose a GPS is like many other technologies. When the device is working as it should, it is great. When things go wrong, it is just frustrating.

May 4 - Sight, Sound and Speed

When I am out walking alone, I rely fairly heavily on the sounds around me. When I can’t see what is coming towards me, I hope that at least I will hear the sound indicating the approach. I am usually quite startled when the first sound I hear is when the person or bike is right beside me.

Now I have complained in the past about bicycle riders who don’t sound their bike bell but now I want to add the danger I feel at the silent approach of electric bikes and scooters. The trail where I often walk is open to both pedestrians and bicycles. I’m not opposed to this. What does scare me out of my wits is when a bike – pedal or electric – is suddenly upon me. The regular bikes are scary enough but at least I can sometimes hear the motion of the pedals as they get closer. Anyway, they aren’t quite as speedy as the electric bikes. My heart really does start to beat faster when suddenly out of the quiet there is an electric bike and rider beside me. Do they even have bells to ring? I’m not sure but I do know that I haven’t ever heard one.

Now, as for electric cars – well, just don’t let me get started! Electric cars are just as silent as the bikes and travel even more speedily. I always cross roads at intersections or at a pedestrian crosswalk if there is one, and although I know that legally I might have the right of way, I’m not sure that all motorists abide by this. If a vehicle or bike is traveling too quickly and silently for me to hear the sound, I doubt that my white cane would make any difference.

So, I’m not sure that this post will make any dent in the advent of electric vehicles and the hazard they might pose for those of us who rely more on sound than sight, but my little rant has helped me to unwind. Thank you for listening.

April 19 - What Can I See?

It’s hard to describe what it is that I see. For one thing, I see differently at different times and in different places. This all depends on ...well, I’m not sure what exactly it depends on. Let me try to explain.

When I go for an eye exam, my optometrist tells me that she measures my sight by my ability to count fingers. This usually occurs in the dimly lit exam room after she has already shone a super bright light towards my retinas. Truthfully, I am lucky if I see well enough to actually be able to count the fingers she is holding in front of me.

However, this sight measurement is totally inaccurate as to what I am able to see after I leave her office and enter the more brightly lit reception area. The change from dark to light or vice versa has an instant effect on what I am able to see. I am unable to see in the dark but good light makes a difference.

Changes in light happen in more subtle ways in the real world too. Last week, when I was walking along my regular path by the river, I could see almost nothing in front of me. The sun was shining and the shadows from the trees disguised the edges of the path. The snow had disappeared and the gray path blended into the dull brown grass along the edges. I walked slowly trusting my walking sticks to find the more solid asphalt of the trail.

Then the following day, I walked the same route again. Lyle was surprised that I had picked up my walking pace. This was because I could see so much better. The day was cloudy. There weren’t any shadows dancing around and there wasn’t any glare. The change in light had made a huge difference.

While changes in light make a difference to the way I see, changes in me also make a difference. If I am feeling unwell, I know that I don’t see as well. Perhaps this has something to do with my concentration. I know that if I am overtired, the same thing happens. I think that it does take more effort for a visually challenged person to get through the day than it does for a fully sighted person.

Then there is brain memory. In familiar surroundings, if I concentrate, I think that I can sort of see things that I know are there. Does this sound confusing? I know that I don’t quite understand the phenomenon. When I sit in my living room, I know that I can’t see the couch on the other side of the room or the picture on the wall. Yet, my brain tells me exactly what I know to be there and in a kind of weird way, I believe that I can actually see or perhaps visualize them.

So, what do I see? I suppose the answer depends on where I am and how I am feeling.

 

 

 

April 9 - White Cane Tips

If you read the title of this post, you might think that I am going to write about suggestions of how to use a white cane. Although I am sure that there are a number of such hints, this is not the case for today’s writing. Instead I want to talk about the tips, or ends, of white canes themselves.

My first white cane had a long pencil shaped tip. I would sweep the cane out to one side, and then as I stepped forward I would give it a slight lift and tap it on the other side of my path. I could feel through the handle of the cane if there were any obstacles in front of me. I would keep repeating this side-to-side tap tapping motion as I walked forward.

I didn’t especially like this cane. I found the constant slight lift awkward and tiring. I was glad when I was introduced to a different cane tip. This one was shaped and sized much like a marshmallow. The tip rolled fairly easily on the ground and I found it less tiring to use. Since that initial marshmallow tip I have seen others of a similar type. Once I saw a red tip the size of a tennis ball. I haven’t used that particular tip but thought that it looked heavier than I would like.

Then I met Steve. Lyle and I were wandering around Circular Quay in Sydney when Lyle noticed a man using a white cane with a curved tip. This was something new and of course I struck up a conversation with him.

It turned out that Steve Holyer was actually the blind engineer and inventor of this cane tip. The tip was shaped much like the end of a hockey stick but much slimmer. Steve wanted a cane tip that would travel more easily over different surfaces. He said that his invention did just that. It was also quieter than the ball tip. Steve said that the lessened noise of his curved cane tip made it easier to listen for other noises around him. He called his invention the HuJu, a combination of names of his grandsons.

Steve offered to let me hold and use his cane. He said that the HuJu tip was designed to fit on the end of a graphite Ambutech cane. These canes are already lighter to handle and I found that with the curve end it moved very smoothly over the concrete surface where we were standing. The HuJu tip is made of acetyl and is low friction, durable and strong. It does not dig into pavement cracks and potholes.

Since then, I have looked up Steve’s invention on the RNIB website. Steve lived in England and this was where the HuJu tip was introduced to white cane users. Comments on the web site indicated that the HuJu tip seemed to be more versatile than other cane tips. The one downside was that it was too easy to get it stuck in a drain or grate on the ground. To date, I haven’t seen the curved cane tip used in Canada. I wonder how it would fare over snow, although I imagine that it would move easily enough over ice.

Next time you see a person using a white cane, I encourage you to check out the tip, or end, of the cane.  Just as we who are blind aren’t all the same, neither are the white canes that we use.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 30 - At the Beach

Lyle and I often go to Australia. It is where I was born and I still have family living there. Mostly we like to go to Terrigal, a small beach town about an hour and a half north of Sydney. With our frequent trips to visit family, Terrigal has become much like a second home for us.

Originally we used to stay with my parents on these visits, but nowadays we stay in rented accommodation. We have tried out several rentals in the area but I like our most recent discovery the best. The building is only 1½ blocks from the beach. The very best part of this is that if I choose to do so, I am able to walk the distance without a sighted guide.

My favourite part of the day is early morning. There is a small coffee shop just across the road from the beach. I like to buy my coffee there and then cross the road to a bench overlooking the waves. Because I do this nearly every morning, the staff at the coffee shop know me by name and quickly fill my order, often jumping the line of other customers ahead of me. I wear my low vision badge and use my cane. Knowing my vision challenge, the staff will usually be quite careful in placing the take out coffee cup in my waiting hands.

There is a pedestrian crosswalk on the corner of the block and I am able to cross the street without problems. Pedestrians have the right of way in the crosswalk but I still tend to listen for approaching traffic.  From there I head to my usual spot by the sand.

The beach is always a busy place in the early morning. There is a promenade that leads from the surf club around the base of the rocks to the neighbouring beach. Weekends are especially crowded with people walking, jogging and exercising their canine companions.

On this last trip, our daughter and granddaughter were with us. While I drank my coffee, these two would clamber on the rocks, check out the height of the waves in the flagged beach area and then usually come back to me so that we could walk a bit together. My sister would often come to join us for these little excursions. It was all a lovely way to spend the morning.

There is a picture with this post. In it, I am sitting on the bench with Lexi. We have turned to look at the camera and the ocean is behind us. 

 

Sue and Lexi at the Beach