If you ask any assistance dog handler, they will tell you that interference by the general public can be a huge problem. One of the biggest forms of interference is petting the dog while it is working. But for me, one of the biggest problems is when people touch me. I've noticed that most people seem to think that the accepted rules of personal contact don't seem to apply to people with disabilities. I have been grabbed, hugged, kissed, stroked, pushed from behind, pushed from the front, and toed along like luggage by people who don't bat an eyelash when they do these things to me. They would never tolerate this kind of treatment themselves, and they would never dream of doing this to someone if they didn't have a disability.
But because the person "means well" and is "only trying to help" I'm supposed to just suck it up and take it. But there is a problem, because in addition to being inappropriate, uncomfortable and demeaning, this kind of treatment is dangerous.
The inner ear disease which causes my deafness also causes vertigo and dizziness. Basically I have really horrible balance. I would probably be using a walker full-time if I didn't have an awesome dog who provided, amongst other things, mobility support. Laveau and I have developed a very particular way of walking. She knows what to do to keep me from doing an undignified face-plant on the sidewalk.
On Monday, I woke up and discovered that the "vertigo elves" had been hard at work during the night. The results were that I couldn't walk without holding on to a wall. I also didn't know where my body was in space. Upon discovering that I couldn't tell the ceiling from the floor, I promptly called in sick to work and took the "funny pills" which worked, pretty well, although they turned me into a drooling idiot for a day or so. The last two days have been spent recovering from this latest bout with the vertigo elves. I can walk and stand now, with the help of my dog. I am going to work, and doing all of the usual things, although more slowly and with long naps afterward.
Today, I went to the store with my husband. They are doing construction in my neighborhood, and the corner in front of the store was getting torn up. We found our way into the store, but when we left, a guy decided that he needed to "help" us. I was near the curb when the person grabbed my right arm, and with great force started yanking me behind him as he set off toward the corner. I started to fall into the busy road. Laveau, realizing that I was about to become road pizza, pulled left and got me upright once again. The "helpful" man, kept pulling. I told him, several times to let me go, and that I had balance problems and would fall if he didn't let me go. He either didn't speak English or he chose not to follow my instructions. He kept pulling me forward and to the right. Laveau pulled me back, and to the left so that I wouldn't fall. It was like urban tug-of-war, and I was the rope. Laveau really had no choice, if she had stopped pulling, I'd have ended up in the road. The man in question should be grateful for my need to hold tightly to Laveau's harness or I'd have punched him just so he'd let me go. I'm not usually prone to violence, but this was honestly terrifying.
Finally, my husband turned around and got the man to let me go. Laveau came up next to me and helped me get steady. We were finally able to cross the road in question and make it home safely.
I know many assistance dogs wear a patch on cape or harness which says something like "Do not pet me, I'm working." I want one for my shirt which says "Do not grab me, I'm walking." But just like most people don't respect the patches on the dog, they probably wouldn't respect mine, and while reading it, they'd grab on and start yanking away. Good thing I have a dog who can yank back.
Showing posts with label crazy stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crazy stuff. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
How Many Retrievers could a Retriever Retrieve, if a Retriever Retrieved Retrievers?
For some time now, I've been realizing just how many things Mill'E-Max does for me through out the day. As she ages, I know that eventually she will get tired of being the house elf, at my every beck and call. After thinking about this, I started realizing all of the every day things she does for me, that I don't even really think about while she's doing them. And then I think about teaching all of this stuff to the next service dog, and my mind just boggles at the mir thought of this monumental task.
All in all, Mill'E-Max does six kinds of retrieving at different times through out the day. It's an awful lot once you break it down like this.
The first kind of retrieve is the Regular Working Retrieve. An example of this is when I drop something, and she gets it with a "take it" cue.
Second kind is the Named Retrieve. This is when she retrieves something by name. Some examples are shoes, Coke, leash, hearing aid, water bottle, phone, or her dish. (water bottle means my metal water bottle. Coke means any plastic bottle). She may have to search the house for the named objects in question before retrieving them.
The third kind of retrieve is the Matching Retrieve. Sometimes I want her to retrieve a specific item which has not been formally named. If I get a similar looking item and show her, she will search the house and find the thing that looks closest to the thing I showed her. This is helpful if Gracy has stolen an item of clothing to sleep with, and I can't find it. Gracy is actually the reason I trained this retrieve to begin with. I have used this retrieve to find everything from a medicine bottle to a laptop bag.
The next retrieve is the repeated retrieve. This is used if I need her to do something multiple times. This is used for things like unpacking suitcases, emptying the dryer, or helping me to unload groceries. It is not a one shot deal; several things need to be retrieved, usually not from the floor but "out of" something. She will either bring this to me, or put the item somewhere else.
One of the most useful retrieves is the Thinking Retrieve. All retrieving requires some thought but this relies upon the dogs observation and problem solving skills. Sometimes I will drop something which does not have a name, and which does not have a matching item. If I do this out of her sight, I still need her to get it. She needs to come into the room or area where I dropped said item, and search the room for the thing that doesn't belong. If something is in the wrong place, she will bring it to me if I ask.
The final kind of retrieve is the Retriever Retrieve. Bristol, my retired goddess has lost all of her hearing. when she is off leash somewhere, or in the back yard, Bristol may not see me sign to her, and can't feel the vibrations of me stomping to recall her. She wears a short traffic leash, and I can send Mill'E-Max out to grab Bristol's leash, and bring her back to me. This took a lot of training-- for both Mill'E-Max, who needed to learn to walk slowly, and pause before going up the steps, before bringing me the leash. Bristol needed to learn to trust Mill'E and how to walk with her.
Mill'E-Max performs between 20-30 retrieves a day. She has retrieved a dime from a hardwood floor, and has carried a gallon of laundry soap to the laundry shed. She used to love going to the mini-mart because I would let her carry one of the items the two blocks home. One time someone saw Mill'E-Max leave the store with a bag of chips in her mouth. The person went to store management, offering to pay for the chips. She assumed that Mill'E-Max had stolen them while I wasn't aware.
Mill'E-Max can have a sense of humor about retrieving. She likes to cary wrapping paper tubes in her mouth. She holds it by the end, and enjoys walking around the house making a ggrrr sound into the tube. She looks like a dog smoking the worlds biggest cigar. Also it is very hard not to collapse, helpless with laughter while she is walking around the house, tail furiously wagging, with this tube sticking about 2 feet out in front of her. I need to get video of this!
And that, my friends, is probably more than you ever wanted to know about the retriever who retrieves retrievers!
All in all, Mill'E-Max does six kinds of retrieving at different times through out the day. It's an awful lot once you break it down like this.
The first kind of retrieve is the Regular Working Retrieve. An example of this is when I drop something, and she gets it with a "take it" cue.
Second kind is the Named Retrieve. This is when she retrieves something by name. Some examples are shoes, Coke, leash, hearing aid, water bottle, phone, or her dish. (water bottle means my metal water bottle. Coke means any plastic bottle). She may have to search the house for the named objects in question before retrieving them.
The third kind of retrieve is the Matching Retrieve. Sometimes I want her to retrieve a specific item which has not been formally named. If I get a similar looking item and show her, she will search the house and find the thing that looks closest to the thing I showed her. This is helpful if Gracy has stolen an item of clothing to sleep with, and I can't find it. Gracy is actually the reason I trained this retrieve to begin with. I have used this retrieve to find everything from a medicine bottle to a laptop bag.
The next retrieve is the repeated retrieve. This is used if I need her to do something multiple times. This is used for things like unpacking suitcases, emptying the dryer, or helping me to unload groceries. It is not a one shot deal; several things need to be retrieved, usually not from the floor but "out of" something. She will either bring this to me, or put the item somewhere else.
One of the most useful retrieves is the Thinking Retrieve. All retrieving requires some thought but this relies upon the dogs observation and problem solving skills. Sometimes I will drop something which does not have a name, and which does not have a matching item. If I do this out of her sight, I still need her to get it. She needs to come into the room or area where I dropped said item, and search the room for the thing that doesn't belong. If something is in the wrong place, she will bring it to me if I ask.
The final kind of retrieve is the Retriever Retrieve. Bristol, my retired goddess has lost all of her hearing. when she is off leash somewhere, or in the back yard, Bristol may not see me sign to her, and can't feel the vibrations of me stomping to recall her. She wears a short traffic leash, and I can send Mill'E-Max out to grab Bristol's leash, and bring her back to me. This took a lot of training-- for both Mill'E-Max, who needed to learn to walk slowly, and pause before going up the steps, before bringing me the leash. Bristol needed to learn to trust Mill'E and how to walk with her.
Mill'E-Max performs between 20-30 retrieves a day. She has retrieved a dime from a hardwood floor, and has carried a gallon of laundry soap to the laundry shed. She used to love going to the mini-mart because I would let her carry one of the items the two blocks home. One time someone saw Mill'E-Max leave the store with a bag of chips in her mouth. The person went to store management, offering to pay for the chips. She assumed that Mill'E-Max had stolen them while I wasn't aware.
Mill'E-Max can have a sense of humor about retrieving. She likes to cary wrapping paper tubes in her mouth. She holds it by the end, and enjoys walking around the house making a ggrrr sound into the tube. She looks like a dog smoking the worlds biggest cigar. Also it is very hard not to collapse, helpless with laughter while she is walking around the house, tail furiously wagging, with this tube sticking about 2 feet out in front of her. I need to get video of this!
And that, my friends, is probably more than you ever wanted to know about the retriever who retrieves retrievers!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Morning Chaos
This morning, things were going along rather smoothly, for a morning, that is. I'm not really a morning person. Because of this fact, I tend to do everything the night before so I don't have to do any thinking before I have my tea. Since I don't get my tea until I get to work, I am basically on autopilot until around 8 am.
This fine morning, I woke up, toileted the girls, fed them, got ready to go, packed all of my gizmos-- Braille Note, iPhone and its accompanying display, meds, lunch, etc. etc. My bus usually comes around 7:30. I finished getting ready around 7:20, and went to put on my hearing aid... only it wasn't in its usual spot in my top drawer.
Thus began the mad search. I first tried a sort of half-assed search, hoping it just got jostled a bit and I could find it quickly. I soon realized that this was not going to happen. Around 7:22, Mill'E came up to me and alerted to the arrival of my bus. She was quickly followed by Laveau alerting to the same, then Gracy who is here for a visit, but who obviously still remembered how to alert. And I ask you, how the heck am I supposed to find anything if I have three dogs telling me the same thing over and over again?
Part of it was the driver who seems to have an unnatural love of his horn-- he loves to honk it. Several hearing people have noticed this and commented upon it to me.
So the whole thing went something like this.
Me: *starts taking things out of drawers*
Driver: *honks horn*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Mill'E-Max and begins sorting through contents of drawer, removing various items.*
Laveau: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges her, and begins removing more drawer contents... lip balms (why do I have four tubes of the stuff?) lotion, allergy meds etc.*
Gracy: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Gracy, grits teeth, thinks fluffy bunny positive trainer thoughts. Searches through more stuff-- puts Bristol's eye drops in pocket so as not to forget to do them before leaving*
Driver: *honk! honk!*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!*
RINSE! REPEAT!!!!
Eventually, I found the damned hearing aid, got my dog harnessed, and my iPod set to play music for my dogs while I'm at work. While I was plugging the iPod into the speaker thingy which is on Baylee's crate, I managed to lock Gracy in there, some how! I only realized this upon my arrival home and not finding her anywhere, which freaked me out and caused me to think she had died, or something.
I also forgot to give Bristol her eye drops because I got so flustered from all of the honking and searching, and nudging.
So now I'm home early to give Bristol eye drops and to let Gracy out of the crate.
Woo! What a morning!
This fine morning, I woke up, toileted the girls, fed them, got ready to go, packed all of my gizmos-- Braille Note, iPhone and its accompanying display, meds, lunch, etc. etc. My bus usually comes around 7:30. I finished getting ready around 7:20, and went to put on my hearing aid... only it wasn't in its usual spot in my top drawer.
Thus began the mad search. I first tried a sort of half-assed search, hoping it just got jostled a bit and I could find it quickly. I soon realized that this was not going to happen. Around 7:22, Mill'E came up to me and alerted to the arrival of my bus. She was quickly followed by Laveau alerting to the same, then Gracy who is here for a visit, but who obviously still remembered how to alert. And I ask you, how the heck am I supposed to find anything if I have three dogs telling me the same thing over and over again?
Part of it was the driver who seems to have an unnatural love of his horn-- he loves to honk it. Several hearing people have noticed this and commented upon it to me.
So the whole thing went something like this.
Me: *starts taking things out of drawers*
Driver: *honks horn*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Mill'E-Max and begins sorting through contents of drawer, removing various items.*
Laveau: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges her, and begins removing more drawer contents... lip balms (why do I have four tubes of the stuff?) lotion, allergy meds etc.*
Gracy: *nudge nudge!* "Bus is here!"
Me: *acknowledges Gracy, grits teeth, thinks fluffy bunny positive trainer thoughts. Searches through more stuff-- puts Bristol's eye drops in pocket so as not to forget to do them before leaving*
Driver: *honk! honk!*
Mill'E-Max: *nudge nudge!*
RINSE! REPEAT!!!!
Eventually, I found the damned hearing aid, got my dog harnessed, and my iPod set to play music for my dogs while I'm at work. While I was plugging the iPod into the speaker thingy which is on Baylee's crate, I managed to lock Gracy in there, some how! I only realized this upon my arrival home and not finding her anywhere, which freaked me out and caused me to think she had died, or something.
I also forgot to give Bristol her eye drops because I got so flustered from all of the honking and searching, and nudging.
So now I'm home early to give Bristol eye drops and to let Gracy out of the crate.
Woo! What a morning!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Doggie Drivel; What's in a Name?
So dog/cat owners, I have a question for you. I've kind of been wondering this for a while, and decided to ask. It seems, Some of my dogs will end up with a nickname which doesn't faintly resemble their given name. But I say it so often that they respond to that name also. It hasn't happened with all of the dogs, but the two best examples are Gracy and Baylee.
Gracy is also known as "The Cheez" or "Cheez Wizard." There are millions of adaptations of "Cheez" but where did I get Cheese to begin with? Gracy some how got stuck with an additional name after I adopted her, and became Gracy Louise. I was living near to a Baskin Robins' store at the time, and got their Cheese Louise ice-cream, and liked it, so then Gracy Louise Became Gracy Cheese Louise. And there you go.
With a name like Baylee, you knew the Herbalist would call her dog things like Bay Leaf, Sweet Bay, and Bay Laurel, but the most frequent name was Bay Rum. Bay Rum became Rum Punch, and is now Rummy Rum Punch.
Last week, I was sitting on the porch with my friend and without thinking, I said: "RummY Rum Punch, sit!" And my friend looked at me like I was crazy! Who, exactly was I talking to? So I had to explain about the nicknames thing, and he thought that was weird. But I don't think I'm alone in making crazy nicknames with these huge long stories and meanings behind them, am I? Help me out here, Blogville!
I mean, not all of my dogs have these long Nicknames. Laveau has the least of them with "Veau Head" being her only Nickname. Which doesn't count for things like "Sister," "Girl," or "Chica." Which I call all of them. Am I just crazy? Do I want you to answer that? I think I'm becoming "That crazy dog lady."
Gracy is also known as "The Cheez" or "Cheez Wizard." There are millions of adaptations of "Cheez" but where did I get Cheese to begin with? Gracy some how got stuck with an additional name after I adopted her, and became Gracy Louise. I was living near to a Baskin Robins' store at the time, and got their Cheese Louise ice-cream, and liked it, so then Gracy Louise Became Gracy Cheese Louise. And there you go.
With a name like Baylee, you knew the Herbalist would call her dog things like Bay Leaf, Sweet Bay, and Bay Laurel, but the most frequent name was Bay Rum. Bay Rum became Rum Punch, and is now Rummy Rum Punch.
Last week, I was sitting on the porch with my friend and without thinking, I said: "RummY Rum Punch, sit!" And my friend looked at me like I was crazy! Who, exactly was I talking to? So I had to explain about the nicknames thing, and he thought that was weird. But I don't think I'm alone in making crazy nicknames with these huge long stories and meanings behind them, am I? Help me out here, Blogville!
I mean, not all of my dogs have these long Nicknames. Laveau has the least of them with "Veau Head" being her only Nickname. Which doesn't count for things like "Sister," "Girl," or "Chica." Which I call all of them. Am I just crazy? Do I want you to answer that? I think I'm becoming "That crazy dog lady."
Saturday, March 17, 2012
A Scotsman Clad In Kilts...
Well actually he was an Irishman... Today was the St. Patrick's day parade. This is my second-favorite parade of the year. What can I say-- I'm a fan of men in kilts, and of bagpipes. My friend and I had arrived at the parade route, and had obtained the requisite Guinness from a local store. While standing around on the sidewalk drinking our beer (remember-- this is New Orleans and we can do that here without getting sent to the pokey), anyway, we were standing around drinking our beer, when we met up with a group of men in kilts. Apparently they were from New York City. They were transit drivers there and had a marching club with bagpipes. They came to march in our parade. I'd never seen bagpipes before so asked my friend to describe them. She decided to ask one of the players if I could touch his bagpipes instead of explaining it herself. That's when I met Mark. Who very patiently explained to me about bagpipes, and then showed me how to hold it. I put the bag under my arm, and the pipes on my shoulder, and then he put air in the bag and played the bagpipes. I could feel the vibrations from when the bag inflated, and the notes from the pipes vibrating my whole body. It was crazy. He showed me how you put your fingers on the holes in the breathing pipe and that's how you make the different notes. If I ever took up bagpipes I'd have to get one for smaller hands because the holes were spaced too far apart for me to keep my fingers in the right place. All in all, it was a very interesting experience. I have pictures, and need to upload them to Flickr for everyone to see. We saw the parade, and I caught a bunch of beads, a huge cabbage bigger than my head, a moon pie, which I gave to Mister Pawpower when I came home, a bag of conversation hearts, a stress ball in the shape of a carrot, three footballs for Laveau, and a flower for my hair. Oh and someone threw go cups from the parade, and they hit me in the head, so I kept them. That's what I get for being blind and not catching things. Laveau was very tired and slept for a good two hours after we got home. I gave her a knuckle bone to chew when we got home for doing such a good job. It was a lot of walking and I am very tired. I hope everyone had a happy St. Patrick's day. Also, I would be forever grateful for good recipes which use cabbage. Did I mention I have a huge cabbage to use up? Now that I've slathered noxzema all over my very sunburned face, I think I will read for a while! Be safe, y'all!
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Boil on her Back-Side
Juuuuuuuuuuuuuust when I think I have heard every idiotic, moronic, ignorant, and thoughtless thing the general public can possibly say to me and/or my friends/family/communication facilitators....
somebody opens their mouth and proves me wrong... yet, again!
today is my usual day for running errands with my SSP. I needed to go into Radio Shak. My SSP was helping me when the man behind the counter suddenly turned to my SSP and said:
"You know, you're going to make a man a great wife one day-- you must have the patients of Job."
I'm probably not the most up to date on my Bible scholarship-- but wasn't Job the dude with boils, and plague, and all of these problems? So if my SSP is Job, logic must therefore dictate that I am the boil on Job's backside.
Which, if I took myself less seriously than I do could possibly really cheese me off.
I mean, do people just... not! think about what comes out of their mouthes?
My SSP and I are always getting strange people telling us how brave/inspirational/wonderful/heroic/beautiful it is that we are out buying a bunch of groceries. So now it's a game. We are keeping track of who gets the most ridiculous compliments. So far she has the patience of Job and I am a miracle sent from heaven.
somebody opens their mouth and proves me wrong... yet, again!
today is my usual day for running errands with my SSP. I needed to go into Radio Shak. My SSP was helping me when the man behind the counter suddenly turned to my SSP and said:
"You know, you're going to make a man a great wife one day-- you must have the patients of Job."
I'm probably not the most up to date on my Bible scholarship-- but wasn't Job the dude with boils, and plague, and all of these problems? So if my SSP is Job, logic must therefore dictate that I am the boil on Job's backside.
Which, if I took myself less seriously than I do could possibly really cheese me off.
I mean, do people just... not! think about what comes out of their mouthes?
My SSP and I are always getting strange people telling us how brave/inspirational/wonderful/heroic/beautiful it is that we are out buying a bunch of groceries. So now it's a game. We are keeping track of who gets the most ridiculous compliments. So far she has the patience of Job and I am a miracle sent from heaven.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Just Say No!
Today Mister Pawpower and I walked to a near by coffee shop for the usual bagels and hangman. After I had ordered my tea, I asked the employee behind the counter if there was space to sit on the bottom floor. The area is small, and I didn't want to go plowing in there with dogs and drinks and whatnot if I was just going to turn around and head back out due to lack of space. The store employee comes around from behind the counter and I told him that he didn't need to do that, just tell me if there were people back there; my dog can find a seat.
Instead of listening to me, this individual grabbed the sleeve of my coat and like a master with a dog on a leash, he started toward the seating area, towing me behind him, and with my dog confusedly trying to figure out what, exactly was going on. I stopped, removed my arm from his grip, and told him that either my dog would follow him, or that he could just answer my question of seating room, and I'd take care of finding the seat myself.
Apparently some people who can hear are deafer than I am, because once again! He grabbed me by the sleeve, starting out toward the seating area. I stopped, removed the sleeve from his hand, and said:
"Sir? Just for what it's worth, it is never appropriate, productive, safe, nor at all in good taste to grab a person without their consent and haul them around by either a piece of clothing or a body part. I appreciate that you are trying to help, but I have tried to get your attention several times and you continue to ignore me. Do not touch me. If you want to lead me somewhere, allow me to tell you how to accomplish this, and then follow my instructions when I give them."
Yes, I am sure many people are cringing right now because I was terribly rude, and he was "only trying to help." I respect that people want to help, but help should never be forced, and it should never put either party in danger.
If you were to look at me, you would never know that I have a hidden disability. My inner ear disease causes problems with balance and vertigo; thereby making walking or standing a huge chore, not just something I do without thinking. If someone wants to guide me, there are very specific ways in which they can do that. Safer, more comfortable ways. Grabbing my arm also means that my dog can't do her jobs properly.
I don't understand why people seem to think that the "normal laws" of physical contact don't apply to people with disabilities. If I walked up to a "normal" person, who asked me for directions, and I then grabbed that person by the arm or by their shirt and started yanking them in the general direction of their destination without even a word of by your leave or instruction, I would probably land in handcuffs at the most, or at the least get punched on the nose. However if this happened to a person with a disability, then it becomes generally accepted-- even smiled upon-- because the person doing the dragging is so kind and wonderful to help!
Many of my newly blind clients feel guilty or "wrong" about not accepting help, or if they do accept help, then they don't have the "right" to ask the person to do it in a way that isn't dangerous or frightening. It is still your body, even though you have a disability. If you don't like what someone is doing with your body, tell them to stop. If someone continues to help in ways which are unwanted, then you have the right to make it known that you don't like it. People with disabilities are not baggage, tugged and towed from here to there.
People often ask me the following question:
"What is the best way to help a person with a disability?"
Here is my answer.
First, ask if the person needs help. If they say no, don't take it personally, but just accept that the person has it covered and their way of doing something may look more difficult or differently than the way you do the same task, but that they are doing it and would like to do it themselves. If you ask and the person does want help, then either wait for the person to tell you how, exactly, you can help them, or ask the question yourself.
Do not grab or try to "move" someone as if they were a piece of furniture. If you need someone to move, ask, and then use words like "left" and "right" to indicate the direction. Do not ever move someone's cane/walker/wheelchair/crutches without asking. If you need the object moved, ask the person what they would like to do-- e.g. move it themselves, or get help. Just communicate, and listen!
And yes, before someone says it, the guy I yelled at today will probably not be in a hurry to help another person with a disability. But I think that might not be a huge loss!
Instead of listening to me, this individual grabbed the sleeve of my coat and like a master with a dog on a leash, he started toward the seating area, towing me behind him, and with my dog confusedly trying to figure out what, exactly was going on. I stopped, removed my arm from his grip, and told him that either my dog would follow him, or that he could just answer my question of seating room, and I'd take care of finding the seat myself.
Apparently some people who can hear are deafer than I am, because once again! He grabbed me by the sleeve, starting out toward the seating area. I stopped, removed the sleeve from his hand, and said:
"Sir? Just for what it's worth, it is never appropriate, productive, safe, nor at all in good taste to grab a person without their consent and haul them around by either a piece of clothing or a body part. I appreciate that you are trying to help, but I have tried to get your attention several times and you continue to ignore me. Do not touch me. If you want to lead me somewhere, allow me to tell you how to accomplish this, and then follow my instructions when I give them."
Yes, I am sure many people are cringing right now because I was terribly rude, and he was "only trying to help." I respect that people want to help, but help should never be forced, and it should never put either party in danger.
If you were to look at me, you would never know that I have a hidden disability. My inner ear disease causes problems with balance and vertigo; thereby making walking or standing a huge chore, not just something I do without thinking. If someone wants to guide me, there are very specific ways in which they can do that. Safer, more comfortable ways. Grabbing my arm also means that my dog can't do her jobs properly.
I don't understand why people seem to think that the "normal laws" of physical contact don't apply to people with disabilities. If I walked up to a "normal" person, who asked me for directions, and I then grabbed that person by the arm or by their shirt and started yanking them in the general direction of their destination without even a word of by your leave or instruction, I would probably land in handcuffs at the most, or at the least get punched on the nose. However if this happened to a person with a disability, then it becomes generally accepted-- even smiled upon-- because the person doing the dragging is so kind and wonderful to help!
Many of my newly blind clients feel guilty or "wrong" about not accepting help, or if they do accept help, then they don't have the "right" to ask the person to do it in a way that isn't dangerous or frightening. It is still your body, even though you have a disability. If you don't like what someone is doing with your body, tell them to stop. If someone continues to help in ways which are unwanted, then you have the right to make it known that you don't like it. People with disabilities are not baggage, tugged and towed from here to there.
People often ask me the following question:
"What is the best way to help a person with a disability?"
Here is my answer.
First, ask if the person needs help. If they say no, don't take it personally, but just accept that the person has it covered and their way of doing something may look more difficult or differently than the way you do the same task, but that they are doing it and would like to do it themselves. If you ask and the person does want help, then either wait for the person to tell you how, exactly, you can help them, or ask the question yourself.
Do not grab or try to "move" someone as if they were a piece of furniture. If you need someone to move, ask, and then use words like "left" and "right" to indicate the direction. Do not ever move someone's cane/walker/wheelchair/crutches without asking. If you need the object moved, ask the person what they would like to do-- e.g. move it themselves, or get help. Just communicate, and listen!
And yes, before someone says it, the guy I yelled at today will probably not be in a hurry to help another person with a disability. But I think that might not be a huge loss!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Misadventures in the Red Stick
On Thursday I needed to travel to Baton Rouge for a meeting. This requires four buses and then a ride to the meeting place once I arrived in BR. The first bus picked me up at my house around 9 am. I was dropped off at the public library where I waited to take the bus to Baton Rouge.
I read email and texted. A Deaf friend of mine saw me waiting and came over to chat. Apparently the supervisor for the bus had been trying to talk to me and didn't know I was deaf so my friend's friend who was hearing came over and through a series of he said/she said/he said kind of translations, the supervisor told me that the bus was coming at 10:50. I would have gotten out my gizmo for face-to-face communications but I didn't know someone was trying to talk to me.
I got on the bus and amused myself for the two-hour long ride. Eventually I ended up at the station in Baton Rouge and walked around until I could find someone to show me to the rest room.
When I got out, my ride was there to take me to the building where the meeting was. We arrived and I met my interpreters. The meeting was three hours long, and after about two hours my arms were hurting and I needed a little break. I was a bit embarrassed to ask for one but I did anyway. Everyone got up to take a break and I asked my interpreters to show me where the bathroom was.
I should probably back up and say that interpreting for deafblind people is different than for sighted deaf. With deafblind interpreting, there is a lot more describing of the environment that goes on in addition to just straight interpreting. For example, before a meeting starts, an interpreter for a deafblind person describes the room, how it is laid out, who is doing what, any identifying characteristics of people. There were a couple wheelchair users at this particular meeting so my interpreters told me about that. This way I'd have a better idea that those people would be taking up space differently than a person who doesn't use a wheelchair.
So I had my SSP guide me to the restroom. We reach the door, and I step inside and turn around to ask my interpreter to explain to me how the restroom was laid out; e.g. where was the toilet, soap dispenser, paper towels and sink. Obviously, a bathroom is not the kind of place you want to explore tactually! Ewww! Only when I turned around to ask, my interpreter wasn't there. I stepped back out of the bathroom, and asked someone to explain the bathroom lay-out to me, but the person wasn't my interpreter. However, she did kindly fetch my interpreter who explained where everything was. I joked about getting lost and never coming out again.
Eventually!!! PAH!!! The meeting was over, back to the bus station, only this time the transfer to the bus didn't go smoothly. The bus driver demanded "an identification card for the dog." However under federal law, a business owner or employee may not demand such identification as a condition of access. The person may ask if I am a person with a disability, if my dog is a service dog, and what tasks my dog does to mitigate my disability/s. This driver did not ask those questions, however. He kept insisting on identification. I told him that I'd call the police and press charges. Denial of access to a person with a disability accompanied by an assistance dog is a class-C misdemeanor in the state of Louisiana which is punishable by a fine and/or jail time. The bus driver yelled, and told me that it was his bus and he didn't have to obey the law because his only rules were that of the bus company. I asked if he'd care to place a wager on that. He yelled some more and told me that people would be afraid of my dog (who was being very threatening and fear-inducing by standing next to me calmly doing counterbalance work while I held her handle) The driver then called his supervisor. To his surprise, the supervisor made him let me on the bus.
The driver then told me that if anyone was afraid of my dog that he would park the bus and refuse to move and that I would make everyone late and that he would announce to the bus at large that we were not moving because I refused to remove my dog from the bus and that the dog was causing fear amongst the other passengers.
Too bad for him, nobody was afraid of the dog and she lay under my seat while I read email and blogs for the ride home. Once again I was dropped off at my public library and waited for the last bus of the day to take me home. It was over an hour late, and it was ten p.m. when I finally walked through the front door. I was gone again the next day by seven-thirty am.
I'm glad I don't have meetings like this often!
I read email and texted. A Deaf friend of mine saw me waiting and came over to chat. Apparently the supervisor for the bus had been trying to talk to me and didn't know I was deaf so my friend's friend who was hearing came over and through a series of he said/she said/he said kind of translations, the supervisor told me that the bus was coming at 10:50. I would have gotten out my gizmo for face-to-face communications but I didn't know someone was trying to talk to me.
I got on the bus and amused myself for the two-hour long ride. Eventually I ended up at the station in Baton Rouge and walked around until I could find someone to show me to the rest room.
When I got out, my ride was there to take me to the building where the meeting was. We arrived and I met my interpreters. The meeting was three hours long, and after about two hours my arms were hurting and I needed a little break. I was a bit embarrassed to ask for one but I did anyway. Everyone got up to take a break and I asked my interpreters to show me where the bathroom was.
I should probably back up and say that interpreting for deafblind people is different than for sighted deaf. With deafblind interpreting, there is a lot more describing of the environment that goes on in addition to just straight interpreting. For example, before a meeting starts, an interpreter for a deafblind person describes the room, how it is laid out, who is doing what, any identifying characteristics of people. There were a couple wheelchair users at this particular meeting so my interpreters told me about that. This way I'd have a better idea that those people would be taking up space differently than a person who doesn't use a wheelchair.
So I had my SSP guide me to the restroom. We reach the door, and I step inside and turn around to ask my interpreter to explain to me how the restroom was laid out; e.g. where was the toilet, soap dispenser, paper towels and sink. Obviously, a bathroom is not the kind of place you want to explore tactually! Ewww! Only when I turned around to ask, my interpreter wasn't there. I stepped back out of the bathroom, and asked someone to explain the bathroom lay-out to me, but the person wasn't my interpreter. However, she did kindly fetch my interpreter who explained where everything was. I joked about getting lost and never coming out again.
Eventually!!! PAH!!! The meeting was over, back to the bus station, only this time the transfer to the bus didn't go smoothly. The bus driver demanded "an identification card for the dog." However under federal law, a business owner or employee may not demand such identification as a condition of access. The person may ask if I am a person with a disability, if my dog is a service dog, and what tasks my dog does to mitigate my disability/s. This driver did not ask those questions, however. He kept insisting on identification. I told him that I'd call the police and press charges. Denial of access to a person with a disability accompanied by an assistance dog is a class-C misdemeanor in the state of Louisiana which is punishable by a fine and/or jail time. The bus driver yelled, and told me that it was his bus and he didn't have to obey the law because his only rules were that of the bus company. I asked if he'd care to place a wager on that. He yelled some more and told me that people would be afraid of my dog (who was being very threatening and fear-inducing by standing next to me calmly doing counterbalance work while I held her handle) The driver then called his supervisor. To his surprise, the supervisor made him let me on the bus.
The driver then told me that if anyone was afraid of my dog that he would park the bus and refuse to move and that I would make everyone late and that he would announce to the bus at large that we were not moving because I refused to remove my dog from the bus and that the dog was causing fear amongst the other passengers.
Too bad for him, nobody was afraid of the dog and she lay under my seat while I read email and blogs for the ride home. Once again I was dropped off at my public library and waited for the last bus of the day to take me home. It was over an hour late, and it was ten p.m. when I finally walked through the front door. I was gone again the next day by seven-thirty am.
I'm glad I don't have meetings like this often!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
A Hero's Quest
Like the fearless explorers from years gone by, tomorrow I shall embark upon a great and noble quest; traveling to hostile and untamed lands in pursuit of a dream.
In layman's terms, this means that I'm going to the Apple Store, located in the m*ll to upgrade my iPhone. However, my initial description isn't far from the mark because doing this by myself (OK, with Laveau) will be epic, I can see it now.
I will have the following:
• Macbook so Apple Store employee can make sure the backup/restore from iTunes goes smoothly.
• USB braille display so I can read Macbook. My Macbook is still running Leopard which doesn't support bluetooth displays. I really need to fix this; it just hasn't happened yet.
• Easybraille braille display, which is connected to iPhone
• Braille Note with QWERTY keyboard and braille display so I can communicate with Apple Store staff.
• Old iPhone
This could get... well kind of tricky. I know I can read two displays at once; I do it all the time when working with both phone and Macbook. But add the 3rd one, the one for communication and it's going to be crazy; and yet again I will long to be transformed into an octopus so I can read more than two things at once. Also that ink thing would be cool, too. Also if I get lost in the mall, I'll need the Braille Note for communication so I can get directions. If I'm not out by Christmas; someone send a search party!
I'm very excited to get this new update to my much-beloved iPhone. Now hopefully Voiceover and my braille display will run much more smoothly than on my 3gs. Also Siri! I have about five million questions to ask her. like "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
In layman's terms, this means that I'm going to the Apple Store, located in the m*ll to upgrade my iPhone. However, my initial description isn't far from the mark because doing this by myself (OK, with Laveau) will be epic, I can see it now.
I will have the following:
• Macbook so Apple Store employee can make sure the backup/restore from iTunes goes smoothly.
• USB braille display so I can read Macbook. My Macbook is still running Leopard which doesn't support bluetooth displays. I really need to fix this; it just hasn't happened yet.
• Easybraille braille display, which is connected to iPhone
• Braille Note with QWERTY keyboard and braille display so I can communicate with Apple Store staff.
• Old iPhone
This could get... well kind of tricky. I know I can read two displays at once; I do it all the time when working with both phone and Macbook. But add the 3rd one, the one for communication and it's going to be crazy; and yet again I will long to be transformed into an octopus so I can read more than two things at once. Also that ink thing would be cool, too. Also if I get lost in the mall, I'll need the Braille Note for communication so I can get directions. If I'm not out by Christmas; someone send a search party!
I'm very excited to get this new update to my much-beloved iPhone. Now hopefully Voiceover and my braille display will run much more smoothly than on my 3gs. Also Siri! I have about five million questions to ask her. like "What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Silent Night, Holy Night.
So this is my first Christmas without Christmas music. Ok, I should actually qualify that because I can still hear *some* music with my iPod and a device that hooks it up to my bluetooth hearing aid. But the funny thing about Christmas music-- at least for me-- was that its all-pervasiveness during the season is what really made it feel like the holiday.
I mean, how many people complain about that music in the grocery store, or the bathroom in the gas station, on the radio and in line at the post office. For a month, everywhere we go we are accompanied by St. Nick, Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snow Man. Not to mention the Hippopotamus someone wants under their tree. It's a very quiet Christmas for me, and I really have to learn to appreciate the holidays in a new way.
I can smell evergreens when we walk toward the store. That smell immediately brings me back to my childhood, gathered around the tree with my sisters telling stories of each ornament we hung.
I love the smell of baking cookies, and cinnamon. The funny moving stuffed animal decorations, and the feeling of ribbon, garland and the hard cold metal ball of a bell in my hand.
When people express amazement that I have a real tree in my house, I smile. The tree is one of the few parts of the season which I can experience. I love the prickly branches, the scent of pine, and the tasks of every-day maintenance. And always there are the ornaments.
When I was a kid, my mother started giving me ornaments for the tree every year. When I moved out, I took the ornaments and hung them on many of my own trees. In August of 2005 they were lost, like so many things were, in the destruction brought on by hurricane Katrina and the failure of the federal levees.
Mister Pawpower and I had gone to Memphis and we had no ornaments. We decided to make our own and so we took a trip to a craft store for pipe cleaners, bulbs, buttons, and puff-paint.
We sat around our little table and created another chapter of our history. That was also the last Christmas I was able to hear any holiday music without amplification.
When we moved back here, we started collecting more ornaments. We still use the ones we made, because they remind me to persevere during the trying times. We have dog-statue ornaments, and many home-made ones from wonderful artist friends. We have funny ones shaped like Bigger (because he's a lot like Mill'E-Max), We have ones with big hearts (for Bristol), We have ones for Rudy, Gracy, and all the other dogs we have had in our lives. This year I believe we will have a striped ornament for our very special striped dog. As we decorate the tree, we tell the stories of how this particular bit of history came to us. So that by the time the tree is decorated, it is a story in its own right.
I have really been making an effort to find new ways to appreciate this time of year. However I can't seem to get away from the music! This morning, I was in Walmart with my SSP. I was surprised I could hear some kind of high pitched noise. I didn't know what it was and more and more, it sounded like someone moaning in pain, or a wounded farm animal. I asked my SSP if she could hear that moaning noise and she replied that that was not moaning, but that song "Angels We Have Heard on High." They were on the "glooooooooooooria" part, I guess. Only it didn't sound very glorious to me. We instead had a good laugh about barn yard animals singing Christmas music, because it really did sound like that! I've ruined Christmas music for her forever now!
I mean, how many people complain about that music in the grocery store, or the bathroom in the gas station, on the radio and in line at the post office. For a month, everywhere we go we are accompanied by St. Nick, Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Frosty the Snow Man. Not to mention the Hippopotamus someone wants under their tree. It's a very quiet Christmas for me, and I really have to learn to appreciate the holidays in a new way.
I can smell evergreens when we walk toward the store. That smell immediately brings me back to my childhood, gathered around the tree with my sisters telling stories of each ornament we hung.
I love the smell of baking cookies, and cinnamon. The funny moving stuffed animal decorations, and the feeling of ribbon, garland and the hard cold metal ball of a bell in my hand.
When people express amazement that I have a real tree in my house, I smile. The tree is one of the few parts of the season which I can experience. I love the prickly branches, the scent of pine, and the tasks of every-day maintenance. And always there are the ornaments.
When I was a kid, my mother started giving me ornaments for the tree every year. When I moved out, I took the ornaments and hung them on many of my own trees. In August of 2005 they were lost, like so many things were, in the destruction brought on by hurricane Katrina and the failure of the federal levees.
Mister Pawpower and I had gone to Memphis and we had no ornaments. We decided to make our own and so we took a trip to a craft store for pipe cleaners, bulbs, buttons, and puff-paint.
We sat around our little table and created another chapter of our history. That was also the last Christmas I was able to hear any holiday music without amplification.
When we moved back here, we started collecting more ornaments. We still use the ones we made, because they remind me to persevere during the trying times. We have dog-statue ornaments, and many home-made ones from wonderful artist friends. We have funny ones shaped like Bigger (because he's a lot like Mill'E-Max), We have ones with big hearts (for Bristol), We have ones for Rudy, Gracy, and all the other dogs we have had in our lives. This year I believe we will have a striped ornament for our very special striped dog. As we decorate the tree, we tell the stories of how this particular bit of history came to us. So that by the time the tree is decorated, it is a story in its own right.
I have really been making an effort to find new ways to appreciate this time of year. However I can't seem to get away from the music! This morning, I was in Walmart with my SSP. I was surprised I could hear some kind of high pitched noise. I didn't know what it was and more and more, it sounded like someone moaning in pain, or a wounded farm animal. I asked my SSP if she could hear that moaning noise and she replied that that was not moaning, but that song "Angels We Have Heard on High." They were on the "glooooooooooooria" part, I guess. Only it didn't sound very glorious to me. We instead had a good laugh about barn yard animals singing Christmas music, because it really did sound like that! I've ruined Christmas music for her forever now!
Friday, December 9, 2011
Tomboy Goes To Beauty School
So my friend texts me at work this morning and tells me that her friend, who works at a well known Beauty school here in New Orleans has invited us for facials and all of that stuff. I was kind of nonplused about this because I am a huge tomboy. For me, a clean pair of jeans and a shirt without Turmeric stains on it is good enough for anything I'm likely to encounter in my life. I do have long hair but I either wear it long or pull it back. I don't own any of that girl paint, or anything, and I've never had a facial in my life. Naturally I thought I should have the experience so I could know what all of the fuss was about.
We arrived and I had my nails done. I picked out dark purple polish and Kayla got right to work on my nails. Holding still for that was so, so hard. My hands are the world to me, and I know it probably seems obvious that it's this way for a deafblind person, I never really realized how disconnected with the world I become when I can not use my hands at will. I can't text or read, or talk, or listen, or reach down to pet my dog. It was very strange. I guess it helped me be mindful in the moment of having them done because I couldn't do anything else but relax and kind of space off into my own world.
Next was the facial. Only it was more like neck/shoulders/face. Complete with the wearing of these robe things which was awkward, and kind of cold. I laid in a bed and a lady did things to my face. And if I thought I was disconnected from the world when my nails were being done, it was nothing compared to how I felt up in a high bed, without even my feet touching. It was so bizarre.
First, the lady doing my face asked me a bunch of questions. It is during times like these when I wished to please have the multiple choice version of the test life throws you
It went something like this.
Face lady: "How does your skin feel today?"
Me: "well, I mean... it feels like skin, and I can't really say that my skin feels different from day-to-day; it's just... skin, and stuff."
F L: "Well is it dry? oily? a combination of both?"
Me: "uhh? I mean... It is just how it is. I don't have any idea."
F L: "What products do you use to clean your face?"
Me: *thinks to self that dog spit is not the answer they're looking for. *
"Well, water? soap?... yeah, soap and water 'bout covers it."
So after the questioning was over, the greasing and massage and stuff began.
I had this stuff sprayed on my face, and then removed. Rinse, repeat. At one point she wanted to do the same thing to my feet, but I put my foot down. Ok, ok, that was a bad line but I really did. No feet facialing for me, thankyouvery much. I did get a hand and arm massage.
She put this cream on me with a sort of brush thing. I told her that I felt like a giant cake someone was frosting. Then she and another lady put a lamp over my face and studied it which made me feel like a science experiment, and Inwardly apologized to all of the bacterium I ever put under a hot light.
Laveau watched everything and couldn't wait for me to get out of the bed. Eventually I was done and my face smelled like a veritable botanical cornucopia with mint, lavander, citrus, rose water, and at least five other herbs were used on my face.
And it's still the same as it always was. It was an interesting experience to have, though, that was for sure!
I think I'm probably going to trot into the great blue beyond singing the song about being a "beauty school drop-out."
We arrived and I had my nails done. I picked out dark purple polish and Kayla got right to work on my nails. Holding still for that was so, so hard. My hands are the world to me, and I know it probably seems obvious that it's this way for a deafblind person, I never really realized how disconnected with the world I become when I can not use my hands at will. I can't text or read, or talk, or listen, or reach down to pet my dog. It was very strange. I guess it helped me be mindful in the moment of having them done because I couldn't do anything else but relax and kind of space off into my own world.
Next was the facial. Only it was more like neck/shoulders/face. Complete with the wearing of these robe things which was awkward, and kind of cold. I laid in a bed and a lady did things to my face. And if I thought I was disconnected from the world when my nails were being done, it was nothing compared to how I felt up in a high bed, without even my feet touching. It was so bizarre.
First, the lady doing my face asked me a bunch of questions. It is during times like these when I wished to please have the multiple choice version of the test life throws you
It went something like this.
Face lady: "How does your skin feel today?"
Me: "well, I mean... it feels like skin, and I can't really say that my skin feels different from day-to-day; it's just... skin, and stuff."
F L: "Well is it dry? oily? a combination of both?"
Me: "uhh? I mean... It is just how it is. I don't have any idea."
F L: "What products do you use to clean your face?"
Me: *thinks to self that dog spit is not the answer they're looking for. *
"Well, water? soap?... yeah, soap and water 'bout covers it."
So after the questioning was over, the greasing and massage and stuff began.
I had this stuff sprayed on my face, and then removed. Rinse, repeat. At one point she wanted to do the same thing to my feet, but I put my foot down. Ok, ok, that was a bad line but I really did. No feet facialing for me, thankyouvery much. I did get a hand and arm massage.
She put this cream on me with a sort of brush thing. I told her that I felt like a giant cake someone was frosting. Then she and another lady put a lamp over my face and studied it which made me feel like a science experiment, and Inwardly apologized to all of the bacterium I ever put under a hot light.
Laveau watched everything and couldn't wait for me to get out of the bed. Eventually I was done and my face smelled like a veritable botanical cornucopia with mint, lavander, citrus, rose water, and at least five other herbs were used on my face.
And it's still the same as it always was. It was an interesting experience to have, though, that was for sure!
I think I'm probably going to trot into the great blue beyond singing the song about being a "beauty school drop-out."
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