Welcome to White Cane Connections.

My name is Sue Boman. Yes, that’s me in the picture posted here. I have called this blog White Cane Connections because I am one of the many people who use a white cane. I began this blog because I wanted to write about a project I undertook in 2012. The plan was to complete a series of walks using my white cane. Between March and September, I walked in 82 different locations across Canada. So, the blog begins by telling of my experiences and the many people I met along the way.

While this particular journey has now been completed, I find that I still have much to write about. I am continuing to make new white cane connections, and so for the time being I will continue to add regular posts to this blog. I am hoping that you will be a partner in the journey.

Sue


Tuesday, 22 February 2022

February 22 - The Magic Stick

I have been thinking about the various misconceptions surrounding white cane use.  My white cane is an invaluable asset when it comes to my mobility, but it doesn’t have the magical power to show me everything that I need to see. I was contemplating this when I came across an old file. I wrote the following a few years back after an experience at airport security. If you read on you might see what I mean:

I was going through airport security last week when I fumbled. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I have been through airport security many times in the past so I know the routine. I try to be very methodical. Before I approach the counter, I have already emptied my pockets. My shoulder strap purse is zipped and ready, as is my backpack. My shoes are single knotted and ready to slip off if requested. Still, this time was slightly different.

The airport was busy. Many of the passengers from my original flight were transferring to other flights and we had all been required to exit and re-enter the secure area. I tried to ignore the confusion around me and stick to my own routine – backpack first, then the container with my purse, folded white cane and shoes. However, the security personnel were also hurrying, and before I had the opportunity to remove my shoes, my other belongings were snatched away from me and sliding under the X-ray machine.

By the time I had readied myself and turned towards the door of the metal detector, I couldn’t quite place the position of its open frame. I stood uncertain.

I still feel a little foolish when I experience this sensation of being lost. I also feel a growing panic if the situation does not soon resolve itself. In this case, I was not left to flounder for long as the queue behind me was growing. Hands guided me through and I found myself standing on the other side searching for the few belongings from which I had been parted.

I was vaguely feeling for these when a friendly woman handed me my folded cane.

“Here,” she announced in a smiling voice.  “You’ll need this to see.”

Do you see the irony of this statement? My cane is an excellent mobility tool but it isn’t helpful for other visual tasks. Nevertheless, I thanked the woman as graciously as I could for her offer to help and continued to touch the items on the counter in front of me. How could this well wisher ever imagine that a white cane, folded or otherwise, would assist me in “seeing” my belongings?

There are many misconceptions about a white cane, and although it is a definite assistive tool for many people who are blind or partially sighted, it is not a magic stick.

 

 

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