Do It Myself Blog – Glenda Watson Hyatt

(Photo credit: Becky McCray)

Using technology and the voice of “Kate” to give several presentations in recent months, I have become acutely aware of the differences between verbal and written forms of communication.

Verbal communication is not simply text converted to speech. Verbal communication, for the most part, is less structured and more fluid. It is not always complete sentences; it is definitely not paragraphs.

Verbal communication requires thinking, rationalizing and forming an opinion in the moment. Unless it is a prepared speech, there is no luxury of a draft and revision after further thought, as is the case with writing. Verbal communication is synchronous, without a delay between the time when the message is sent and the time when it is received.

Verbal communication takes self-confidence. Do these words I am about to utter fit with what the others are talking about? Is my point valid within the context of this conversation? Self-confidence varies across situations. A confident writer may not be a confident speaker. That confidence is built up over time with an accumulation of successes and failures. And, with that self-confidence comes verbal communication skills, learned over time and built upon previous lessons learned.

Adding a communication device to the mix may make verbal communication possible in that the message is spoken aloud. But, from what I have experienced so far on this journey, using such a device (in whatever form) is not quite the same as verbal communication. In my case, using the technology that I do, it is closer to written communication converted to text with some tweaks.

Learning how to use this technology within the verbal realm has required being a quick study to appear on par with my peers. Behind the scenes, it has been difficult to know how to fit one form of communication into another. 

I wonder, when young people with speech disabilities are given communication devices and taught how to use the device, are they also taught how to communicate with the device?  The way I see it, there are two sets of skills here: the technical and the social. Both are required, but might be acquired at different speeds. 

It has definitely been an interesting journey; one that I am still navigating.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, tips or insights.

Over the past couple of months, several people have thanked me for making them aware of the need for accessibility, both on the web and in daily life. I smile. While I appreciate having the tools and voice to make this need known, accessibility is not a new need.

Do you know how long I and millions of other people with disabilities have been dealing with less than accessible washrooms, curb cuts and such? Accessibility isn’t a new concept, yet many, many people still don’t get it until they are personally touched by the need.

Over the weekend, I was thinking about the environmental movement. Despite the decades of tireless work by environmentalist David Suzuki, oceanographer Jacques Cousteau, Greenpeace and countless other individuals and organizations, it wasn’t until 2006 when former US Vice President Al Gore released his Hollywood-ized documentary An Inconvenient Truth did the masses finally “get it”. Overnight, reducing, recycling and repurposing became the latest trend. Parking the car and walking to work was a new concept. “Green” products began popping up everywhere.

In 2007, Al Gore and Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize "for their efforts to build up and disseminate greater knowledge about man-made climate change, and to lay the foundations for the measures that are needed to counteract such change”.

From my perspective, it took a former American politician and a documentary with a $1million budget, according to Wikipedia, to get people’s attention and to start them taking action to protect the earth. Whatever it takes!

Turning back to accessibility, what needs to happens for the similar response to occur? What would get people’s attention and get them taking action? Do we need a big name like Al Gore in our corner?

Seriously, I am asking. I welcome a respectful dialogue in the comments below.

This morning I was supposed to appear for jury duty at BC Supreme Court in New Westminster. To be honest, I have been waiting years for the opportunity to serve on a jury. Since taking Law 11 in high school, I had an interest in the legal system. A tiny piece of me desired to be a lawyer; the rest of me pointed out how much work that tiny piece would have to do. Serving on a jury would provide me one perspective of the legal system.

However, after much deliberation, I chose to play my “physical infirmity incompatible with the discharge of the duties of a juror” card. Did I take the easy route out? Quite possibly. Do I feel guilty about it? No, not overly.

The past few months, particularly May, have been extremely busy for me. I am hoping I can fulfill my next two commitments before breaking! I definitely don’t need to add jury duty.

Proving I can do something is one thing; saying “No, thanks” when my plate is overflowing is something else, yet can be equally empowering. Because when one door opens, it doesn’t necessarily means passing through is a must. Sometimes walking on by is fine.

Besides, being summons to criminal court, I envisioned serving on a jury for one of the many gang-related murders. With my red scooter sticking out in a crowd, would that make me an easy target? I can do without that kind of drama in my life!

If accused individuals can use mental insanity to shirk responsibility, should the innocent be able to gracefully bow out of commitments for mental (and physical) health’s sake without fear of any retribution, perceived or otherwise? What say you?

Early Wednesday morning found both Darrell and I boarding a Greyhound bus to Whistler Village. After much effort, we were both loaded and our chairs securely strapped into the bus. By batting my blue eyes and stating that I had done before, I was able to stay in my scooter on the bus; otherwise, I would have had to switch over to a bus seat and my scooter stored below, which I could have done, but sometimes its more the principle of it – not everyone can get out of their chairs.

Two and a half hours later, along the Sea to Ski Highway that is still undergoing major reconstruction, we arrived safely in Whistler – a host city for the Olympic and Paralympic 2010 Winter Games.

I understand that much work had been done to improve the accessibility of the village in preparation for the Paralympics. But, to be honest, I was less than impressed by what I saw. On the short walk from the bus loop to the Telus Conference Centre, the curb cuts were not well-defined and were in ill-repair. In the Conference Centre, I needed assistance to get around the tight corner into the washroom.

It is quite possible that I encountered the least accessible areas in an otherwise very accessible village. But, obviously, work is still needed before Whistler is invaded by an army of wheelchair users in less than ten months!

The reason for our day adventure was I had the pleasure of  presenting with Karen and Emese from the SPARC BC (Social Planning and Research Council of British Columbia) at the annual BC Recreation and Parks Association (BCRPA) Symposium. I presented my lived experiences with accessible recreation. All went well except for committing the presenter’s carnal sin: ran out of business cards. Ooops!

Presentation is offered below. Enjoy!

Visit Flickr for more photos from Whistler trip.

Saturday, while working on my next presentation, I began tearing up. I felt the strong presence of my childhood friend Karen Greening. She had passed away years ago the Tuesday morning after the May long weekend. Doing the math, I realized it is twenty-five years ago today. Twenty-five years? How is that possible?

Karen was a few years older than me. She had severe cerebral palsy – she didn’t have any purposeful movement in her limbs, which were in constant motion, and she had no verbal communication. But she had beautiful blue eyes and a big smile.
We met when Mom began teaching Karen’s special ed class. Mom taught these non-verbal kids to communicate using Bliss symbols. Using a headstick, Karen was able to communicate, in a limited way, by pointing to the grid of Bliss symbols fastened to her wheelchair tray. She was also able to type, in the same manner, on a Smith Corona typewriter. It was painfully slow, but it was one of the few things she could do on her own.

Before the homework began piling on for me, I frequently took the school bus home with her on Friday afternoons to spend the weekend with Karen. It was the only time I had chocolate milk – such a treat! Mrs. Greening became my second mom.

Communicating was interesting; the two of us didn’t have lengthy, nonsensical chats. I couldn’t easily decipher a head shake from a head nod, so I had her roll her eyes for no, which she was great at doing. Like she understood Glenda-ish any better! Simply being together and watching television was often enough.

At some point, Mr. Greening built an in-ground pool in their large backyard. Strapped to an inner tube, the pool was the one place that Karen could experience independent mobility. She loved splashing about.

On summer days, Mom drove me and my three brothers over to the Greenings to spend the day in their pool. Karen loved watching the antics of the three boys. They kept her entertained. Spending the day with her was a good way to break up the boredom and loneliness that we both experienced during the summers.

Once I began high school, I rarely had a weekend free from homework. Time spent with Karen was limited to a get-together at Christmas and pool days during the summer. I felt like I was living two lives: my able-bodied life at a regular high school and my disabled life with Karen and horseback riding for the disabled, and the two lives hardly ever intersected.

In my first year of Grade 12, Karen, in her early twenties, was experiencing complications due to her scoliosis. Because of her back curvature, her food wasn’t digesting properly. Every night when Mrs. Greening put her to bed, she vomited. This lasted for months. Karen was scheduled for surgery to have a Harrington rod inserted to straighten her spine – a complicated yet standard procedure for people with limited mobility.

I vaguely recall both families getting together at Christmastime, 1983. Then Mom heard from Mrs. G a couple of times, saying Karen’s surgery date had been postponed yet again. Karen still wasn’t keeping much food down.

The next call came the Tuesday morning after the Victoria Day long weekend, while we were getting ready for school. That was highly unusual because our phone never rang that early. I immediately knew something was wrong. Mom told us the news once she hung up the phone.

Karen had had the surgery and had pulled through okay. She had even sat up a bit in the hospital bed. But, then, that morning she went into cardiac arrest. She didn’t pull through. She died

Understandably, I was quite upset with just losing friend. But, for some unknown reason, my family didn’t stop for death. Off to school I went, in shock and dazed. I told one friend about Karen’s death. With my Grad Banquet and Dance that Friday, the week was one hell of an emotional rollercoaster ride for me.

After that Tuesday morning, Karen wasn’t spoken of much again. Her parents, my second mom, were never heard from again, and there was no mention of a funeral or a memorial service. But I didn’t forget her. I know she is one of my guardian angels.

Over time I tried rationalizing that Karen became tired with needing everything done for her and she moved on to a place where she could experience complete freedom.

Then, while learning about anorexia in my psychology courses at university, I wondered if her nightly vomiting had the same effect on her body as an eating disorder would have had. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to withstand the surgical assault on her weakened body.

Now, I am thinking perhaps the reason why she died is a bit of both – or something else I yet to understand.

Whatever the reason for her death, Karen is never too far my thoughts, as is Chris – a family friend killed by a drunk driver, but that is another story. Today is Karen’s day to be remembered.

I have often wondered how Karen would have benefitted with all of this current technology. With head switches, onscreen keyboards, scanning software and so much more, what would she be capable of? Would there be a means to release all of her thoughts, opinions and ideas trapped within her beautiful head? Isn’t it ironic yet amazing how personal capability is dependent upon the current state of technology?

Karen, thank you for being one of my guardian angels. I remember you and feel your presence often.

Karen Greening, I speak your name.