[tabi] Blog post from "Losing Vision Gaining Insight"

  • From: Lighthouse of the Big Bend <lighthousebigbend@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: tabi@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Fri, 19 Nov 2010 13:21:41 -0500

Thought you might find this blog post interesting and insightful...

Losing Vision Gaining Insight


The Cane

As a blog writer, I try to always be both honest and optimistic.
Tonight, I feel torn because I do not know whether I can write a post
that is both.  Here is the truth.  After work tonight, I met with
Kasey, my mobility trainer, for a lesson.  I knew what to expect.  I
knew he was going to talk to me about using a cane.  I was on edge,
uneasy.  I was aware that my body language was closed and stiff.  My
body language was echoing my mind – closed, stressed, bordering on

Kasey talked to me about his own journey of vision loss and his
feelings when he started carrying a cane.  He chose an ID cane for my
height and showed me how it folds and unfolds.  It looked really small
and lightweight, but ugly and so white.  He asked if I was ready to
try it.  I cried.  I felt so stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself.  I
could not bear to touch or even look at the cane.  He asked if he
could show me how he uses  one.  After a few minutes, I agreed.  We
walked down the hallway and he showed me how to hold it and how to use
it going up and down stairs.

We went back into his office and, finally, he held out the cane and I
took it.  I hated that cane.  Taking that cane was the hardest step on
my low-vision journey so far.  I dutifully put it together and then
folded it back up.  I felt sick to my stomach.  Kasey finally
convinced me to go for a short walk while holding the cane.  Down the
hall, up the stairs, down the stairs.  It was nothing, but it was
terrible.  I felt conspicuous.  I hoped no one would see me holding
the cane.

After our three-minute walk, Kasey said that was enough.  We talked a
bit, just chatting about anything but that cane.  Finally, he asked if
I would take the cane with me and I agreed.  He was glad, because he
said that he was going to insist that I take it.  I don’t have to use
it, but I have to have it with me, just in case I need it.  He advised
me to just keep it in my purse.  I stuffed it in the bottom of my
purse and put other things on top of it.  I hate that cane.

The preceding was the honest part.  Here is the optimistic part.  Some
day (soon) I will catch the bus and ride home.  It will grow dark
while I ride the bus.  I will get off the bus and realize that I can
not see clearly to walk home.  I will take out the cane and use it to
pick out curbs and any unseen objects in my path.  I will arrive home
safely.  And I will fold up the cane and store it for the next day.
On that first day that I need to use the cane to get home safely, I
will have it with me.  God will provide the courage and strength to
use it.  Fear and vanity and pride will lose.  And independence and
faith and hope will win.  And a flower of grace will bloom.

Lighthouse of the Big Bend
Guiding People Through Vision Loss
3071 Highland Oaks Terrace
Tallahassee, FL 32301
(850) 942-3658
Check out the TABI resource web page at http://acorange.home.comcast.net/TABI
and please make suggestions for new material.

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