Do It Myself Blog – Glenda Watson Hyatt

Bags are packed and two presentations are about to be loaded onto my laptop, assuming I can resist this compelling urge to rewrite the rote-feeling introduction. Tomorrow I am off to San Jose to present to a group of web engineers at a large financial institution, and then at Open Web Camp IV on Saturday. I’m definitely getting my geek on this weekend!

I am then home for less than two weeks before heading out for my Philadelphia-Pittsburgh adventure. Climbing the “Rocky” steps in the midst of a heat wave: who’s brilliant idea was this?

In those few days in between trips, I am not only unpacking, washing clothes, re-packing, and getting re-organized; I am also getting my home office and adjacent living space ready for a film crew. Yep, a film crew!

The Fetzer Institute is producing a short (5-minute) documentary on web accessibility, which will be shown at their Global Gathering For Love and Forgiveness in Assisi, Italy in September, then subsequently made available on their website, YouTube, etc. Their production crew for the film has impressive credentials. The script writer in particular has done work for Frontline, MacNeil/Lehrer, NOVA, and others.

I am one of their interviewees. How I get myself into these things, I know not.

Thankfully I have already received interview questions and I will prepare my responses in text-to-speech, likely to be played on my iPad during the video interview. But one question requires some deep, reflective thought, which I haven’t had a chance to do, yet. I pose the question to you, my wise and insightful readers; consider this crowdsource thinking…

The Fetzer Institute’s work focuses on realizing and cultivating the power of love and forgiveness in people’s lives. Do you feel there is a connection between universal design, love, forgiveness?

Discuss in the comment section below while I go triple check that I have my passport, iPad charger, and…

On beautiful days Darrell and I grab our respective cameras and head out somewhere we can easily get to. These photo wheels have become an outside activity we are able to enjoy together.

I frequently share a day’s best photos in a post, like the Easter bouquet a few days ago.

What I don’t share are the umpteen shots that don’t make the cut because of my shaky cerebral palsy and my not-quite-perfected camera mount. That is, not until now…perhaps there is beauty hidden somewhere in the outtakes…

Then I get the one I was aiming for…or almost, which only means I still have something to keep shooting for and isn’t that what photography is all about…

Once Darrell and I get home and have had time to go through our own photos, we show each other our successes (and failures).

I love this one Darrell took me trying to look through my camera with it mounted to my scooter and tilted upwards. It explains why I have so many outtakes.

What makes me grateful is that, because of the technology, I now have photography as a hobby. I would have never had the freedom to take so many outtakes for those few decent ones had I needed to pay for film processing.

The final chapter of the molar broke by an extra hard chocolate-covered coffee bean gets written on Friday. The ending is the one I was really hoping to avoid: extraction under general anaesthesia in hospital.

Since learning the date of this unhappy ending, I have been oscillating between Eckhart Tolle’s “being in the now” and Gary Zukav’s “allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling”.

Right now the sky is blue, the sun is shining, the radio is on and I am doing what I love – writing. Nothing else at this time matters.

In the next moment, I am thinking how hospitals are my least favourite place to be;  the lack of dignity, privacy and respect as an intelligent being leaves me feeling depleted and devalued. But what I am dreading most are the sensations of being put under: leaving my husband and Mom, the less than cozy warm operating room, the sight of torturous-looking equipment, the smell of the black rubber or clear plastic gas mask…in all of the times I have been put under, I’ve yet to encounter laughing gas in my mask, but rather a claustrophobic, uneasy, tingling, numbing sensation that I can not fight off. I succumb, hoping that I will wake up and without any further complications. The memories make me shudder and bring tears to my eyes, again.

I will be relieved when this molar’s final chapter is complete and I can get on with writing my next one.

Yesterday was my first appointment with the new dentist. Being a beautiful day, we decided to wheel the approximate 20 blocks, each way. We will be hibernating soon enough.

There was a little "not talking to me" by the receptionist. With television psychologist Dr. Phil’s “You teach people how to treat you” ringing in my ear, we nipped that in the bud. Appropriately training them from Day One is the best strategy.

My concerned husband hollered “She has her iPad with her if she needs to communicate” as I headed down the hall with the hygienist. (Concerned because, after thirteen years of marriage, he knows he is in for an earful from his non-verbal wife if anybody dares not treat her as capable and intelligent.)

In that moment, I realized I don’t go anywhere, literally, without my scooter. I (almost) always carry straws with me. But, my iPad is not yet permanently attached to me. I am getting better at taking the gadget with me when I go out, but it still requires conscious remembering.

I also learned a valuable lesson as a new assistive and augmented communication (AAC) user: needing to fetch the thing from my scooter basket and turning it on before continuing the conversation is not being prepared enough for communication. Having my iPad on and ready to go indicates to other that I am ready and able to communicate.

And, use my iPad to communicate I did, for the first time, with a dentist.

The bottom line: one broken molar needs a filling, which he will attempt to do in the office next Monday. If he runs into a problem, he will call the College of Dental Surgeons for suggestions. I can not ask for more of that.

The other molar, which had a root canal done several years ago, will not fare as well: too broken to attempt saving, it needs to be pulled and the dentist is reluctant to attempt that one. I have a consultation with a oral surgeon next Tuesday; the consult is not covered by Ministry. If necessary, he can sedate in office. We will find out on Tuesday whether sedation is covered; strangely, full hospitalization is covered by Ministry,  but I really would like to avoid that, if possible.

Depending upon how Monday’s appointment goes, I am very tempted to switch dentists permanently. I was pleased at how he interacted and communicated with me. That makes all of the difference!

A quick update on my dental dilemma…finding a suitable dentist involves dealing with three accessibility requirements:

1. Physical access: Can I get to the dentist office, preferably without spending half a day on public transit? Can I get to the dentist chair? Needing to park my scooter and walk 8 feet to the chair does not count as accessible (for me); for others, it might pass.
2. Staff attitudes: A dentist and staff who communicates directly with me and can work around my jerky cerebral palsy are essential.
3. Directly bill the Ministry: Surprisingly (or not) many dental practices do not directly bill the Ministry, which is an obstacle for those of us on social assistance. The mere thought of attempting to be reimbursed after paying myself sends me shivers up my spine. (I’d love to hear from others who have succeeded and how they did it.)

A big thank you to my persistent virtual assistant Lori-ann for making umpteen phone calls. I now have an appointment at the Riverside Heights Dental Group – which appears to meet all three requirements – next Wednesday at 11:15am.

Fingers crossed!