Do It Myself Blog – Glenda Watson Hyatt

(Photo credit: Sandra Cunningham)

Wow, what a week!

Monday: Amidst the uncertainty of a looming labour strike, Darrell and I delivered the second web accessibility training session for a local municipal government. With both sessions successfully delivered, I can now say that we hadn’t done anything like that before!

Darrell is a qualified instructor, but web accessibility isn’t his area of expertise. Web accessibility is my expertise, but I haven’t done much instructing before, mainly because of my speech impairment. But, presented with this opportunity (or challenge, depending upon your viewpoint), we did what we do: we figured out ways to work around our strengths and weaknesses and did whatever it took to get the job done. We must have successfully met the challenged because we received at enthusiastic applause.

Employers don’t know what they are missing by not hiring us!

Tuesday: I picked up my first pair of reading glasses. I’m not thrilled with having reached that milestone, but I confess its nice not needing to hold the page just so to read the fine print. Now, if only I had time to curl up with a good book!

Wednesday: The doors to Readers’ Café officially opened with a resounding success. The next Readers’ Café will be Wednesday, August 1st, at 4-7pm PDT / 7-10pm EDT. Be sure mark your calendar!

Thursday: After three hours of fitting, fiddling and fixing, my butterfly brace was finished. Wearing it is like wearing a cast: I have absolutely no movement now in my ankle, which makes putting on the $135-per-pair shoe very tricky.

The orthotist was concerned as she was making the brace that I wouldn’t be able to get it on myself. She even called the rehab specialist with her concern. His response was to make the thing and then they would figure out how to get in on; he would arrange for help to come in, if necessary. Have someone to come into our home every morning only to put on a brace and shoe? Great, something else to schedule into our busy! What happened to fostering independence so that I can do things myself?

Well, I’ve managed to get the brace on myself, but I need Darrell’s help to get the shoe on. It takes an extra half hour in the mornings. I’m not sure what I’ll do the mornings Darrell is out of the house early. But, I will figure out this challenge too – somehow!

(Saturday morning update: I did it! The trick was a cat toy, a drawstring from a pair of track pants and a half hour. Now I can start my day!)

Today: Thank goodness its Friday because I am out of steam!

Watch for a special announcement early next week! Until then, please vote and have a great weekend!

(Photo credit: Jay Simons)

After a two-week hiatus from blogging, I’m back! Darrell and I were busy preparing an introductory training session “Web Accessibility: The What, Why and How” for a local city’s Information Technology (IT) staff. When I’m in the midst of a major project, everything else decreases in importance – this typing thumb can accomplish only so much.

I had a few late nights creating the PowerPoint presentation and adding the text-to-speech sound files with my speaking parts, which was a tedious process that seemed like it would take more time than I had. I thought the burning eyeballs and the floating spots were simply from a lack of sleep.

A trip to the optometrist just to be sure on Monday morning revealed otherwise. After several tests, measurements and hold still moments, it was determined that my perfect vision, the only perfect thing with this body, is no longer perfect. I now need glasses for reading. Apparently this is normal when individuals turn forty – finally reached a normal milestone!

However, I profusely object. If I am so-called developmentally delayed, then the perks of turning forty should be equally delayed! This is not fair; it can’t be both ways! I want a lawyer to fight this unfair ageing practice!

(Photo credit: Stefanie K)

After eight weeks of hoop-jumping, Darrell finally has a new gel cushion and can minimize the risk of a pressure sore from sitting all day. Luckily, the bureaucrat assigned to review Darrell’s application was new and the occupational therapist (OT) was able to convince him to forgo the “one cushion per butt” policy in favour for the commonsensical “one cushion per chair” approach. Thank goodness for small mercies!

The OT had warned Darrell that his application may not be approved because of the policy and brainstormed other options. Darrell explained that he couldn’t possibly get both chairs beside the bed without levitating, at which point the OT threatened to hang up! He then suggested that Darrell park both wheelchairs beside the couch and sit on a stack of throw pillows while he swapped the cushion. A person with no balance is supposed to sit on a wobbly pile of pillows? Ok. And who is going to pick him when he lands on the floor? The tooth fairy?

It’s not that we prefer relying on the government for such necessities, but these things are so outrageously priced because, as one sales person once revealed to us, “someone has to pay it”; our current situation doesn’t permit us to be the someone. One day! Until that day, Darrell is comfy (well, as comfortable as sitting all day can be).

(Photo credit: Sanja Sjenero)

I try to give my loyal readers something positive, inspiring, or hopeful in most posts I write, but there are days when having cerebral palsy simply sucks. And, today was one of those days!

As I shared in an earlier post, my left ankle needs to be braced again; a development I’m not thrilled with. I wore heavy long-legged braces as a child. The summer before Grade Six, I had a horrendous surgery done to stabilize both ankles (details are in my book), after which I graduated to short-legged braces below the knee. Then part way through Grade Eight, I did away with the braces all together, which marked improvement to me; one tiny step towards being less different. Going back to a brace is a step backward; digression.

Nowadays, the braces (or AFOs – ankle-foot orthotics) are no longer heavy metal and sweaty leather, but rather lightweight plastic molded to the foot. Today’s appointment involved casting my foot for the plastic mold. With athetoid cerebral palsy, this was not an easy task.

I must admit that the orthotists were very patient and even answered my questions this time. Not having the rehab specialist there this time helped. Or, perhaps it was the fact that I had included the link to the previous blog post when I emailed for the appointment, after receiving notification that funding for said AFO had been approved. Whatever it was, it was nice being treated as an intelligent individual.

Because of my cp and the muscle tightness, we had to go through the casting process three times in order to get my foot in a semi good position from which the plastic mold will be made. Three times I endured my foot being twisted and turned into a position my foot doesn’t go in. And, to be honest, it hurt!

The AFOs are made of a clear plastic. Children get to choose from an album a graphic or design to customize their plastic AFO (and to make it more bearable to wear). The orthotist gave me the album to see if I wanted anything on mine. Thumbing through the images of action heroes, cute animals, or flaming lightning bolts didn’t inspire me; there was nothing business- or professional-like, no dollar signs or “I’m a hot babe” sayings. I was learning towards a plain, least conspicuous, least wardrobe clashing AFO. Then I saw the butterflies, the symbol of new life, new hope, and thought, “If I have to wear this stupid thing, why not have brightly coloured butterflies all over it?” I never had choice with the metal braces and poop brown shoes I wore all through my childhood. Hopefully the butterflies will lighten up the sucky fact that I am now back to wearing braces.

(Photo credit: Jari Leivo)

A few months ago, I watched from my home office window as a couple of crows built a nest in the spruce tree. The eggs have since hatched and the babies are growing. Today must have been flying lessons. I looked out as the crows were squawking yet again. A well-intending woman was chasing after a fledgling on the ground, with two angry bird parents circling above her, reminiscence of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. She carefully scooped up the baby and placed him on a lower spruce branch

Although the woman meant well, she was trying to help in a situation that didn’t require help; a situation I can relate to, well. Having a physical disability and being in a wheelchair leads people to assume I need help, even when none was solicited. Strangers have kindly assisted me, even after I cheerily responded, “No, thanks,” to their offer. I am then left feeling obliged to be appreciative for help rendered.

At times assistance is greatly appreciated. At other times, despite being slow or not being graceful, help really isn’t required and, sometimes, can be no help at all. When in doubt, simply ask if I would like help. Then respect my response, please.

There is one way you can help me at the moment. I will be sincerely appreciative if you would vote for me daily so that I might be paid to blog for a year. Thanks!

As for the baby crow, it’s probably best to leave it alone, unless it is obviously injured or in danger.