The White Cane - 10.29.2023
Who knew the decision to pursue this training
would bring about such big emotions.
It’s a presence all its own, this long white stick.
An identifier of its owner,
“This person is blind, they cannot see,
Make way, clear a path,
give a broad berth to the blind woman.”
I felt the isolation as I walked this morning,
Each person in the distance seeing me with my cane,
Moving to the other side of the street
Or taking a different path.
In their thoughtfulness they avoid me.
At times I feel the hypocrisy: I’m blind,
But I CAN see, just not everything.
I want to explain to each person who wonders,
The story too long for a t-shirt.
Granting independence while at the same time
Declaring to the world my disability.
it’s no longer my private battle
Waged by only me.
Now that pedestrian, my neighbor and the guy in that car
All know I need help. All know I can’t do it by myself.
Compassion? Pity? Curiosity?
I feel like I’m being stared at
Even though they probably aren’t even looking.
Why do their opinions matter?
My trainer reminds me
Most don’t even notice us.
Oh yeah, it’s not about me.
I read that once, even preached it
A lifetime ago.
Cane lessons continue
I’ve mastered an intersection
On to the roundabout
Will this ever get easy?
Will this ever be “normal?”
When I wrote this I was in a bit of a funk, if you couldn’t tell. Thankfully time has passed, I continue to learn, and like all things the more you do something the easier it becomes…
I started my white cane training in September, 2023 I had no idea what I was in for. I had no idea of the emotional, mental and physical toll it was going to take on me. After each two hour session I’d be emotionally and mentally spent, many times ready to just sit down and cry or go curl up in a ball. The multi-tasking that has to happen at every intersection was blowing my mind, but thankfully I think I’m over the hump and on the other side of the big stress. I recently “graduated” from conquering a large intersection near my home. One of the busiest intersections in our town (12th & North Avenue). It felt good to know where I should be looking/listening when, and when to push the button so I’m not standing there for ten minutes at each crossing and understanding what you can and cannot assume about traffic lights and crosswalks.
I still rely on my lacking vision more than I probably should. But I’m remembering my training - always watching for the right turner who’s watching for a break in traffic more than pedestrians, despite the kind intentions stepping back and letting the car do it’s thing so there’s no misunderstanding about who’s doing what,
The hardest part though, has been getting over the presence of the cane and what it represents both to others and to me. I recently discovered Dave Steele, #TheBlindPoet and was reading some of his poetry that spoke of the cane not as a pariah but as a sign of strength. The cane allows me to keep my independence, to not settle for staying home and withdrawing or always relying on others to get around or lead me in low light. It’s a tool. And it’s an identifier. It lets people know I may not see them or their big car that could take me out in an instant. It’s such a mind game, but one I’m slowly getting used to and getting over. Who knew? Who knew all this cane stuff was going to be more mental and emotional than anything else!
So the saga continues, every two weeks. My trainer comes to town again next week and we’ll be working on the roundabout downtown. I can’t even imagine this with no sight at all. My senses are heightened. I hear and feel and touch more. I let the cane explain why I couldn’t track what someone was pointing to or holding up or referring to. It helps. It helps. It will continue to help. And I can do this.
Thanks for reading.
~Sally
#lowvision #davesteeletheblindpoet #canseecantsee #blindlowvision #maculardegeneration
