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.