Babies!

When mom became pregnant with me, she was over the moon with joy.  Little did she know how wonderful I really was going to become in the years ahead. He he he! Sadly, not others felt that a blind person having a baby was a good decision.  Again, ugly stereotypes and ignorance exist in the strangest of places. One day shortly after learning about her pregnancy mom was in the employee bathroom and one of her co-workers asked if she was going to abort me. My mom was of course very offended by this question, as I'm sure most of us would have been if we were in her shoes.  She felt entirely capable of caring for me and though it was difficult at times, she did it, and did a pretty amazing job if I do say so myself. 

Many of us parents have a large support system when we come home from the hospital with our babies, but sadly, my mom did not.  My mother's parents had both already passed away before I was born but my dad's mom, Clara was able to be there for mom in the beginning. Grandma helped mom learn to sterilize bottles, work around the umbilical cord (because let's face it, it's kinda gross), and dress me.  Mom's coordination is not very good and learning to do the snaps and have them line up was quite a challenge.  Mom fortunately, already knew how to change a diaper due to some of her baby sitting experience as a teenager, but I still don't know how she didn't puke on me every time I pooped.  I can guarantee you that she gagged, every time. 

Many people wonder how she bathed me and I think that is probably a fear of many parents.  Mom is no different, but all you need to do is think outside of the box a little.  Between mom and grandma a plan was devised.  There were baby baths back then, and it allowed my head to be elevated enough to where I didn't slide and the water wasn't close to my head.  As I got bigger, it was just easier for mom to bath me in the sink. So, she would put a towel in the the bottom to keep me from sliding around then plop me in.  It was a sad day for mom when I discovered the sprayer.  I'm sure you can imagine what happened on your own. 

Many people from mom's office wanted to come and visit.  I'm sure much of it was out of pure curiosity   of a blind mother caring for a new baby rather than just wanting to see a newborn.  They came in droves, 3 or 4 to a group.  They held me and played with me and cooed at me, but the real fun was if I peed or pooped so they could watch mom change my diaper.  They would follow her to the back of the house and just gawk as they watched the process. Mom and I believe that them being able to see her at home, with her child, instilled a new level of respect in her abilities.  Maybe she wasn't so different after all.

Mom also had many blind friends and they came to visit as well.  Believe it or not, mom is not the only wonderful blind mom out there, there are many of them and I'm blessed enough to have some them as a part of my extended family to this day. Mom always let her friends hold me, believe it or not many people don't want a person with blindness to hold their children, because they automatically think the worst.  She always wanted them to have a chance to feel what sweetness that only new babies can instill in the hearts of her friends and to give them the trust that she felt they deserved. 

Some people wonder about my clothes and how mom picked them out.  Probably not much different that what you might look for in your own clothes.  She always wanted things that felt nice and pretty tactually.  She liked me to be in girlie clothes with smocking and ruffles, things you will not see me ever were now. My grandmother, who was probably the second most wonderful woman to ever walk this earth in my eyes, made many of my clothes and she made them so that they were easy for my mom to find what matched and to put on without too much fuss. 

Now, what I'm going to tell you next is what nightmares are made of.  I'm afraid that some of you may never look at me and mom the same way after I tell you this next story.  This tale is not one I will discuss with you in public, if we meet on a street, don't bring this up. Keep it to yourself and laugh if you must, but again I ask you, don't talk to me about it.  It was a cold winter day and my mom had two friends visiting.  One of them could see and the other was totally blind.  They had been discussing my bathroom habits, as all of us parents do.  Evidently, a consensus was reached that I was constipated. A plan of action was put into motion.  Our sighted friend, Mary, suggested that mom give me a suppository and mom agreed that this just might do the trick.  So, Mary held my little legs in the air while mom unwrapped the suppository and began to search for the right orifice.  Mom felt the crevices and somehow chose the wrong one.  Mary, was talking to, mom's other friend, Ann at the time and didn't see where mom slipped the glycerin bullet but when I began to cry, she knew something did not go as planned.  Every since then, it has been said that I lost my virginity to a glycerin suppository. I am thankful to have this story behind us.

Mornings

When I was 4, mom and dad decided to divorce.  I can honestly say that I really don't even remember my dad being at home much as a child. So, the divorce really was not a big deal to me.  Dad went to live with his mother in north Austin, and we stayed at our home on the south side of Austin.  The day he left, I do remember mom closing the door behind him and having a a noisy but short cry.  I went and grabbed her hand and said, "Momma, it'll be OK.  I'm still here.  Let's dance." And we did.  I found my favorite Kenny Rogers album and put it on the record player and we danced.  I was a real sweetie, wasn't I? 

We settled into our new life quite well, I thought.  Mom had good stable job at Social Security as a Service Representative and each day we would get up to start our day together.  

The mornings of my early childhood were torturous. My mother has always been a morning person. A singing song, never needs a cup of coffee, wake up loving life, kinda morning person.  It was horrible! Because I am not.  I don't like to talk for at least an hour and I don't really want to be touched in any form or fashion.  I'm cranky dammit, let me be.  As a 4 year old though, there just wasn't much I could do about it. So, mom would get up, take her shower and then come and get me ready for school, singing songs from the Sound of Music or a song about this damned broken doll that was being mended for Christmas day. It was horrible, but the woman loved to get my feathers in a ruffle, not much different than today.  

We would then amble into the bathroom where she would continue her singing and wash my face with a washcloth that I believe she kept in the fridge overnight. She would continue her ministrations by giving me what is commonly referred to as a whore's bath, I was bathed head to toe with that frigid cloth.  Every single morning.  She did this even if I had a bath the night before, it didn't matter, that woman was going to make sure all of my crevices were stench free.  Seriously, I'm scarred from it.

After, my ice bath, mom would dress me.  I know I could have gotten dressed by myself, but I loved watching the expressions on her face as she did it.  Her tying my shoes was the best part.  I would lay on the bed and she would put the shoe on my foot and then rest it on her tummy, while she tied the laces.  All the while she would be sticking her little tongue out, just a tad from her lips.  I always wondered if she could tie the laces minus the tongue or if the tongue was really an instrumental part of the whole process. 

After the dressing, we would then go to the living room and sit in mom's great big rocking chair and rock until our ride got there.  Austin has one of the best para transit systems and we had a regular driver each morning.  His name was Johnny, and each day he would stop at a gas station and buy me a honey bun before I was dropped off at day care.  

It was a good life.  But not all mornings were this glorious.  Not long after mom and dad's divorce, a friend gave us a German Shepard named Lady.  Lady was beautiful.  She had tall pointy ears and she was very sweet natured, but Lady did have one major flaw, Lady was probably the dumbest dog I have ever encountered.  I'm a huge animal person, especially, when it comes to dogs, but Lady really was "special." Lady did have gifts, unfortunately, none of them revolved around following directions or being trainable.

One day, we awoke to a spider web that Lady entangled all over my swing set.  She had made it over the bar on top, wrapped it around the see saw, under the slide and around the swing.  We did not own twine before Lady literally pulled it out of her ass. It was a piece of art! Seriously, the dog was gifted with what little brain matter she did have. You could tell she was so proud of herself, and I have to admit, we were pretty proud of her too, in an awe struck, "what the heck have you done?" sort of way.    

But, the day Lady really made her mark, was one very cold Austin winter night. On this particular night, temperatures were going to dip below freezing and we didn't want anything to happen to our special girl, so mom decided she would allow Lady in for the night.  

Now, there is something you need to know about my mom, she has a very easy gag reflex. For instance, if I said, "Oh mother, Lucas has a green booger hanging out of his nose." She would gag and then for some unknown reason to me, she will pull her shirt up over her nose until she knows that I have removed the booger.  It doesn't matter that the booger has no odor.  It's just the idea of a green booger being near.  I know, I know, she's pretty "special" too. 

Well, as you might guess, Lady had free reign of the house over the night and she chose to sleep in mom's room.  Well, around 5 or 6 the next morning I hear my name being called.  It's mom, and she's kind of gagging in between yelling for me.  The conversation went like this...

"Cindy, it's mommy. Are you awake? Gag. I need you to listen to me very carefully. Lady has had a bad, gag, accident in mommy's room.  I need you to go get some paper towels and put them on the poop, gag, gag, so that mommy can clean it up. Do you understand?"  Me being in a sleepy state, didn't ask questions, I just found the poop and did as she asked.  I then helped her navigate her way to the poop without stepping in it and then I went back to my room and climbed into my cozy bed.  All the while, the only sound I hear in the other room is her gagging and coughing and gagging.  

Now, mom will tell you that this was a horrible morning, but I'd like to think of it as sweet revenge for all the singing and ice baths. ;o) 

So you know sign language, right?

Today, I thought I would go over some information regarding blindness.  You always hear about discrimination against the disabled and yes, it's there and it's prevalent, but I also think much of it is just pure ignorance.  My mom and I both believe that teaching people what to do or say around a person who is blind is much more helpful than getting angry and making a fool of yourself and the person at the same time. 

So let's start off with some basics.  These are VERY common questions, that we have been asked all of our knowing days.  

1) Do you know sign language?

Uh, that would be a negative ghost rider.  Most people who are blind read Braille, which is a series of dots.  It is not a language, it is a code, and quite a fun one if you ever care to learn it. If you are sighted and you learn Braille, you would learn it visually, not tactually like a person with blindness. 

2) Your hearing must be fantastic!

Actually, no.  Mom's hearing is just like all of ours, she just uses it differently than we do. In the past few years, she has lost a great deal of hearing and has had to get hearing aides.  It has been a very difficult adjustment for her.  Can you imagine, being blind and losing hearing, your most valuable asset next to your sense of smell? It's been rough for her.  I would also like to add that this has been a very difficult adjustment for me, because the woman refuses to wear the darn hearing aides and she can't hear sh!t! Someone talk to her puleeze! 

3) Do you want to feel my face and see what I look like?

Absolutely not!!!! Seriously folks, do you really want a person feeling all over your face with their grubby hands?  Blind people don't do that, I don't care what the movies tell you! Watch the movie Ray.  Jamie Foxx did an amazing job portraying Ray Charles.  He was right, they feel your arm, can listen to you breathe, listen to your voice, smell you, hear the way you walk; from that information they can gather all the data they need to know about you.  How tall you are, if you're overweight or a twig, if you have bathed recently, if you're dressed up or casual, etc.  They don't need to feel your face to know this stuff.  Then later they will find a sighted person and get the full load of information on you and from that they will create an image of what they believe you look like to them. I, of course, resemble a fairy princess. ;o)

4) Where's your stick? Or Do you have a blind dog? 

Let me first begin with the stick question.  This is my personal pet peeve. It is called a cane.  It does two things 1) it is to let you, the sighted person, know that they are blind and 2) it helps them navigate their surroundings. When they are holding a cane they can also hold onto your arm, but that is a choice for them.  Not all people with blindness will accept help from others.  It is a personal decision.  Some individuals are quite scared of walking with a sighted person because not all, or should I say, not many do it correctly and it could cause the person to get hurt. If you are with a blind person, ask them what they would prefer.  My mother personally chooses to walk on my left side.  She holds my upper arm and as I walk that puts her a step behind me.  She then can tell if she needs to step up or down.  Some blind people do count steps but not all.  It's really not a very reliable method.  Stairs, yes, steps, not so much.

Now let's discuss this dog issue.  First, it is not a blind dog.  Come on now!  If the dog was blind too, what good would it do? It is a seeing eye dog or a guide dog.  Not all blind people have them.  It is a personal choice.  There is a lot of care, maintenance and training that a person must go through for a guide dog.  It is a big decision and commitment.  My mom has never had a guide dog, because she always had a desk job and felt it would not be fair for the dog to just sit under the desk all day. Also, the dogs must be trained to go where the person wants them to go, dogs don't just know to take them to the bus stop, or to the bathroom.  They must be taught those things.  

I will stop our lesson in blindness today, but I hope some of this information has been helpful to you. Remember there are no stupid questions....ok, really there are, but that's just between us.

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Since this blog is meant to share some of our daily activities, which we find mundane at times, but others tend to love, here is my first tale for your enjoyment.....Today, I had to take mom to the doctor to have blood work done.  In this particular facility, the lab is it's own office.  You go fill out the sign in sheet and wait your turn.  I rarely go back with mom to have her labs drawn.  I figure, let someone else take her for a little bit, she loves talking to everyone, so this is a perfect outing for her.  

The lady calls her name I take mom to the nice, seemingly, innocent soul, and mom immediately begins to try and ask her for her left arm.  The woman is a little slow on the uptake, if you catch my drift.  Eventually, she figures out why mom needs her arm.  I just like watching the show sometimes. It can be quite comical if you have seen it enough times.  Anyways, 10 minutes later here comes mom.  I gather her up and as we are waiting on the elevator she says, "They wanted a urine sample.  The lady was going to come get you and I had to stop her and say, 'I don't want her in here for that.' Did she really think I needed you to hold a pee cup for me?" 

Now friends, I love my mother, really, I do, but I am not going to hold a cup between her legs while she pees.  There is a line.  Blind or not, we all have lines we just don't cross.  This being one of them. 

Have a fantastic day!

 

Let's start at the beginning....It all began one cold, wintry December day in Austin, Texas at St. David's Hospital. Actually, I have no clue about the weather, but my little ole blind mother labored for over a day and a half.  She wanted a natural birth, but I would not cooperate and therefore, I was taken via c-section.  My mom and dad had planned to name me Sheryl Diane, after her best friend, but as soon as dad saw me, he said, "Well, Mary Sue, we can name her Sheryl, but she looks like a Cindy to me." So, Cynthia Diane it was.

Let me go back here just for a minute and introduce you to the characters of this play.  My mom, is Mary Sue and she was born in Huntsville, Texas to Walter Thomas and Mary Dee Cauthen. During my grandmother's pregnancy with my mom, my grandmother fell off the back porch.  It is believed that this fall caused my mother's eyes to stop development.  When she was born, no one really paid attention to the fact that she wasn't noticing lights, or changes in scenery or following objects.  My grandfather was the first person to make the doctors aware of what he believed to be quite a serious visual problem. After, many dr. appointments my mother was diagnosed with congenital glaucoma.  Probably, now a days, she would have a totally different diagnosis, but back then little was known about children who were blind from birth.  All, my life my mother has worried that I, too, would have glaucoma, but fortunately, I just have bad eye sight.  No glaucoma.

For our second actor, we have my father, Dennis Ray Melton.  For the sake of my story, let's just call him Dad. He was born to Jack Madison and Clara Smith Melton. Sadly, I never knew my grandfather nor did my dad for very long.  He was killed in a car crash when my father was only four. My grandmother never remarried and worked very hard to support my dad and his older brother Johnny.  Since she was usually working several jobs to pay the bills, my great grandparents were my dad's primary guardians for much of his life. My father was also a vietnam war veteran.  He served two tours and the day before he was to come home on his final tour he was hit by shrapnel.  He lost vision in one eye and had fairly major injuries to his back and leg.

My parents actually met at the Broken Spoke in Austin.  If you don't know what the Broken Spoke is, I suggest you go to Austin and find out.  It is a special place and I'm betting the decor hasn't changed much since my parents met back in the 60's.

Are you following this so far? She's blind and he is legally blind in one eye, oh and he has PTSD. This has nothing but interesting written all over it right?

Just you wait....there will be marriages, divorces, deaths, affairs, drunken bar piano bar singing, cars hitting cows, SWAT team stand offs, college binge drinking (my mother not me), motorcycle  rides from blind folks, and the list could go on.

I will do my best to add a little each day. I'm still trying to figure out this whole blogger, thing.  I'm sure I'll get better with time. Please be patient with me.