A LITTLE BIT OF BACK INFO...

For me, the ability to confidently travel by myself in public and function independently in my daily life has restored a sense of normalcy that I had lost when my eyesight was compromised and I became legally blind in September of 2006. Prior to receiving O. & M. (orientation and mobility) and I. L. S. (independent living skills) training my life had become cloistered. For the first ten months after I lost my eyesight, I resisted the idea that I needed help. I was holding out for the hope that my vision would be able to be restored surgically and I wouldn’t need to use a cane to get around and that the whole “blind thing” was a passing problem that would be resolved and put behind me within a few months.

During that 10 month period, I found my life getting smaller and smaller. I only went places when I had to and only went to places I knew, the grocery story, the doctor’s office and the bank. That’s it. I didn’t see my friends unless they came over to visit me. I never went out to do anything because I was basically afraid of injuring myself (which ultimately I did in spite of how much care I believed I was taking). One night when the fire alarm went off in my building, I accidentally tripped over a piece of concrete and nearly broke my ankle. I was off my feet for nearly three weeks and was totally dependent upon other people to bring me food from the store and to take me places. When I was mobile, I regularly tripped over fire hydrants, curbs, objects on the side walks, ran into people, etc. all the time. At one point I tripped over a fire hydrant and nearly broke my neck. And yet, I still held out hope that my vision would be coming back soon and that if I could just keep holding out a bit longer, my situation would get better and I would be able to put this period of my life behind me chalking it up as a dark period in my life that I had somehow managed to survive. Well, my hopes didn’t work out that way and I didn’t get my vision back the way I wished.

My health, unfortunately, continued to decline and as I grew increasingly ill and the restorative surgeries that were preformed on my left eye repeatedly failed, I began to realize that I couldn’t continue wishing for my life to get better. If I wanted my life back (or at least a more normal life than I was living) I would have to accept that I needed help and had to work to improve my situation rather than simply hoping that it would improve on its own. The final straw came for me one night when I found myself stuck in a downtown Los Angeles subway station at 10:00 pm in the evening. I had gone downtown to attend a disability application workshop that only occurred at night and even though I had great reservations about traveling around town at night, I was making the effort to improve my life and so, I took the chance and went. Well, after the workshop ended that evening, I managed to carefully make my way to the nearby subway station and, with great difficulty, find the down escalator and get onto the subway train without breaking my neck. Unfortunately, that evening, the subway trains stopped running in Los Angeles due to an unforeseen problem with the train tracks causing service to be suspended early for that day. I was stuck in the Wilshire/Vermont subway station with no way to get home.

Worse, I was alone. There was no one else in the subway station that could help me. I was stuck underground, I couldn’t see well enough to easily find my way around much less get my bearings and find an alternative way to get back to my apartment (which was nearly 10 miles from where I was at the time). I couldn’t see well enough to find a public telephone much less use it easily and besides, whom would I call at that hour? A cab ride back to my apartment from the downtown area would likely have cost me nearly $45 dollars and I had less than $7 dollars in my pocket and no way to get more money. None of my friends were available to me as they were all out of town or working. I was stuck. After fumbling around for a while (being terrified that I would go off the edge of the subway platform accidentally), I managed to find the up escalators and got myself up to the street level. I was totally turned around and it took me nearly 20 minutes to find Wilshire boulevard where I hoped I might be able to catch a bus that was headed towards the west side of Los Angeles. I found what I thought was a bus stop, hoping that it was on the side of the street headed in the direction which I wanted to go, and waited. Fortunately, a bus did come by and the driver stopped to pick me up even though, as it turns out, I was at the wrong bus stop for a bus that wasn’t running during the evening hours. I was never more grateful in my life.

I rode the bus to the corner of Wilshire and La Cienega boulevards where the bus driver told me that I would be able to catch a bus northbound that would take me relatively close to where I ultimately needed to go. Unfortunately, the bus driver didn’t know that, on La Cienega Boulevard, north and southbound busses stop running regularly after 8 pm. I found this out from a person passing by who saw me waiting at the bus stop and wasn’t sure that I knew that there wouldn’t be a bus coming until early the next morning. Again, I was stuck and this time I had no way to get home unless I was willing to walk. It was by then roughly 11:30 at night, I had no eyesight, no night vision at all and at least a two and a half mile walk ahead of me. I won’t lie, I cried. I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I had to force myself to take each step. The walk home was nearly impossible. I tripped over three curbs, ran into two fire hydrants, nearly got hit by half a dozen cars that I didn’t see coming as I crossed streets, it was terrible. For the first time in my life I really began to wonder if I would actually make it home alive. Miraculously, I did and at that moment I swore that I would never go through anything like that again. I finally accepted that, without help, I wasn’t going to be able to remain independent or continue to get around on my own. I just couldn’t put myself through that experience again.

A social worker at the UCLA Medical Center had put me in touch with the West Side Center for Independent Living and they, in turn, contacted the Center for the Partially Sighted in West Los Angeles on my behalf. Graciously, The Center for the Partially Sighted arranged for me to receive a cane and authorized several training sessions for me even though at the time I was unable to afford to pay for the services. They went above and beyond the call of duty on my behalf and for that I will always be grateful. Two weeks later, I received a call from Sophia Leduck who, was, at the time skeptical of my enthusiasm for learning to use a mobility cane. To her surprise, she found that I really did want a cane and once I had explained what I had been through, she understood where I was coming from. As I understand it, most people who begin mobility training with a cane do so unwillingly and resist the idea. I on the other hand, enthusiastically embraced my new cane and eagerly accepted the training. For me, the cane meant a newfound freedom and the confidence that I could get around safely.

My whole world changed. I was able to visit my friends again, go out to restaurants, travel on public transportation without fearing that I would fall from the bus while getting off onto the sidewalk and I didn’t fear tripping over curbs or running into fire hydrants any longer. My former life began to return to me all because of my cane. I loved my cane and became quite proficient with it in a short amount of time. I realized that the fear of using a cane was irrational. If other people thought less of me because I had to use a cane, that was their issue and not mine, I won't live my life just to please others or meet their expectations. If other people looked down on me because of my visual impairment, then they weren’t worth my time. All that mattered was my well-being and safety.

To my surprise, the help, which Sophia brought to me, didn’t end with mobility training. Together, we went through my home where she helped me by marking buttons on devices like my dishwasher so that I could more easily use it. She placed flagging tape on the clear glass of my shower door so that I wouldn’t accidentally put my hand or head through it because I couldn’t see it. She helped me learn how to safely use knives and cook in the kitchen, fill glasses with liquids without overflowing them, determine the differences between coins and make change properly and showed me how to read and effectively handle money. Improving my life skills training was an aspect of my life that I had never really contemplated and her unexpended help in this area greatly improved the quality of my life and my independence.

As good as my cane was, after a few close calls with some inconsiderate drivers who cut me off while I was crossing the street, I began to wonder if there was more that I could do for myself to even further improve my safety while out traveling around town. At the time I erroneously believed that I didn’t qualify for a guide dog because I still had some eyesight in my right eye. I mentioned my disappointment to Sophia who immediately set me straight. She told me that guide dogs were available to people who were legally blind as well as to people who were totally blind and that if I wanted to make the commitment that having a guide dog requires, I would qualify to receive one.

At this point I have to say that sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. In my new found sense of assuredness, after only brief consideration and unbeknown to me, I went right out and applied to one of the top guide dog schools in the world, Guide Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, California.

It isn’t that the school is exclusive in the typical sense of exclusivity, but they do have some fairly rigid requirements in regards to mobility, problem solving and comfortably level with your visual disability. Having a guide dog requires good orientation and mobility skills as well as good problem solving skills in order to be able to effectively handle the guide dog. Guide Dogs for the Blind generally prefers that a person have been living with their visual disability for a longer period of time than I had because a person, such as myself, who has only recently become visually impaired is unlikely to have accepted their visual disability and become comfortable with it. Not knowing any of this, I applied and then eagerly followed up with them. Sophia knew what I was getting myself into but had confidence me and in the idea that I could handle the rigorous mobility and problem solving evaluation which Guide Dogs for the Blind would put me through and therefore didn’t dissuade me from pursuing the application to the GDB program.

Well, the interview and street level mobility test was definitely an eye opening experience for me and challenged me to rise to the occasion and show what I could do and how confident that I really was in my mobility skills and ability to resolve problems that I might face working with a guide dog. I honestly didn’t know how I did in the test. I don’t want people to read this and be dissuaded from the idea of getting a guide dog, I only want them to be aware of the commitment and willingness to take the world head on each day that having a guide dog requires. Having a guide dog may not be for everyone, but it sure is wonderful. Needless to say I passed their evaluation and was accepted to their program. Four months later, at no expense to me, I was off to guide dog school where I was paired up with my new best friend, my guide dog Dobbs.

Guide dog school was an intense but exceedingly rewarding experience. As much as I loved the freedom my cane had given to me, traveling with a guide dog is just that much more amazing. Having a guide dog doesn’t completely replace your cane, you still need it for certain situations where working with your dog is impractical, but in general, having a guide dog is like the difference between driving around in your average mid-sized car and driving a Rolls Royce. Dobbs guides me around all the obstacles on the side walks, stops to show me curbs, watches out for reckless and rude drivers who might pose a danger when we are crossing the street and he does something my cane could never do for me, he watches out for obstacles that I might hit my head on. But even more that being my remarkable mobility aid, he’s my best buddy. We are never separated. He offers unconditional love and lets me know daily that he is as concerned about me as I am concerned about him.

Yes, properly caring for him is a big responsibility and one that is not to be taken lightly. They call it the guide dog lifestyle and living it does mean some significant changes in the way a person lives their life but the rewards that come from having a guide dog far outweigh the commitment it requires. I honestly now can’t imagine living my life without my guide dog even though we’ve only been together as a team for a short period of time. The confidence he gives me and the increased sense of safety that I have when I travel around Los Angeles is without comparison. Having him with me all the time is incredible. Sometimes when we’re stopped at an intersection waiting to cross the street, he’ll lean his body against my leg just to let me know that he’s thinking about how much he enjoys being out working with me. Dobbs is an amazing dog and I’m really blessed to have him in my life. Guide Dogs for the Blind is really like a family. They watch out for their students not only while you’re attending school but the also offer graduate services and help with postgraduate veterinary care.

I can’t say enough nice things about Guide Dogs for the Blind, the Center for the Partially Sighted or adequately express my gratitude to Sophia Leduck for all that she has done for me. Their help has been invaluable in meeting my goal of regaining my independence and self-confidence while dealing with the challenges that living with a visual disability daily confronts you with.