Editor’s note: This is our second post this week in our series celebrating White Cane Day and what it means. Be sure to go back and read How I Accepted the White Cane.
The Diagnosis
“You are legally blind,ā the doctor said to me, after making the diagnosis of retinitis pigmentosa, RP. “Your sight will never get better and probably will get worse.” I was 18 at the time. Being a blind person was not in my life plan, but over the next few years, huge changes in my life plan would take place.
What To Do Next
The Ohio Bureau of Services for the Visually Impaired, BSVI, sent a counselor to get me started in my new role as a legally blind person. He introduced me to the talking book program, which opened the world to me. He set up lessons in braille, which would prove to be an invaluable skill. He also arranged for me to have orientation and mobility training (O&M), with a white cane. But thatās where I dug in my heels. I went through the training, but I knew I was not going to use that thing. It was to me, the sign of defeat, the image of helplessness.
How Wrong I Was
As I look back with my 20/20 hind sight, I see how foolish I was in rejecting the white cane. Many times, I would have been saved from embarrassing stumbling and fumbling if I only had used the tool that would allow me to not only travel safely, but also identify myself as a person who doesnāt see well. You see, thatās exactly what I was trying to avoid, looking like someone who canāt see, while in truth, I would have given the impression of a self sufficient individual if I had used it.
Low Vision, High Confusion
When you are not totally blind, and you are not fully sighted, you live in a world where sometimes you can see, if the lighting is right, and sometimes, not so much. People in your world are just as confused as you are. They arenāt aware that you canāt see, and sometimes they make rude remarks like, “Itās right over there. What are you, blind?” The white cane makes a statement. It tells the people in your world that you donāt see as well as they do. Becoming comfortable with making that statement is the key to success in using a cane. For me, it took a very long time.
Choosing to Use a Dog
I understood the techniques of using a white cane, and eventually, I became more comfortable with it, especially when I was around a group of other people who were blind. As a life-long dog lover, however, I chose to train with my first dog guide at age 37. By this time, I had lost most of my vision. Four dog guides later, Iām still convinced that a dog is the best for me. I can walk faster and with much more confidence, and I love the companionship. However, there are times when I leave my dog at home and take the folding cane down from the closet. When I attend conventions or other functions where there are a lot of people and dogs, I prefer to give her the day off. When I go to a movie or concert, I know sheāll be much more comfortable at home than jammed under a seat on a slanted theater floor. Even when I use my dog on snow-filled streets, carrying the cane becomes a useful tool in probing the piles of snow on the corners, to determine how to get over them without falling on my head. When I go out for a special dinner with a friend, a folded white cane in my purse comes in handy when itās time to use a public restroom. In other words, the dog is my preference most of the time, but not all of the time.
Choosing Your Cane
I prefer a thin white cane that I can keep folded up until I need it, but there are several varieties to choose from. You can buy one that telescopes or one that is a solid stick. Some people prefer this type, because they are sturdier. You can even buy them with extra support at the bottom. There are several organizations for the blind that sell a variety of white canes, but it is a must that you receive proper training in how to use a cane.
My Identity
I am a person who is blind, but my blindness is not always noticeable. Even when I am shopping with a sighted friend, and I donāt have my dog with me, I carry my white cane. That way, the sales associate will understand why I want to touch the product before I buy or why I ask what color it is.
Not Just a Sign
But I donāt use the white cane just to let people know Iām blind. When I donāt have my dog with me, or a sighted guide, itās the only way I can get around independently. On a cruise ship, in a hotel, or in an unfamiliar setting, the cane is an extension of my hand. I can feel where my next step will take me. I have visited homes where a flight of steps going down is placed in the middle of the room, a dangerous situation for a visitor who is blind. Hereās where the white cane is a must for me. I never thought Iād say those words, “It’s a must for me,” considering that when I started my journey as a blind person, I wanted nothing to do with the white cane. Now, my appreciation for it is proof of my acceptance, finally, of my blindness.
Discuss Using a White Cane
Do you use a white cane? Or do you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed? How has your white cane kept you safe from harm and falls? How have you dealt with feelings of awkwardness and embarrassment? Share your comments about using the white cane in the section below.