A Day in the Life of the Wife of a Man (Who Just Happens to be Totally Blind)

Or: "Teaching Them is One Thing; Living with Them is Another!"

By Judi Piscitello, TVI, COMS

At 6:00 a.m. I awaken to a talking alarm clock obnoxiously proclaiming, "Your attention please! It is now 6 a.m. Please hurry!" A bird clock chirps in the hallway as I go downstairs to let out my husband's guide dog (the "honor" of the first one who happens to get out of bed in the morning). I kick the "dirty rat" dog toy across the living room onto the dog's bed on my way to the kitchen to draw a big glass of water to take my nutritional supplements (with Braille labels on the bottles).

At 6:08 I check my weight on our talking scale. The scale has no mercy, proclaiming my weight loudly enough to wake the dead, and then has the nerve to say, "Have a nice day!"

After my shower, I lay out a matching shirt, tie and suit jacket for my husband. (We really don't have the time to sew in Braille labels that will just fall off like buttons anyway!) All his socks are black, for the sake of my sanity.

As my husband enters sleepily into the bathroom, I warn him to keep to the right of my vanity chair, which I had pulled out from under the vanity counter. I must always be sure to close all doors, drawers and cupboards, and keep walkways, chairs and common table surfaces as clear as possible. This is no easy task. A common phrase around our household is "no careening!"

At 6:23 a.m. my personal grooming is interrupted by his requests for me to read printed matter of various types (mail, prescription restrictions, receipts left in his pocket, etc.). Because I'm trying to put on my makeup, he holds the paper out for me to read. "Turn it over -- no, now it's upside down -- oh, just give it to me!"

At 6:50 a.m. I drive my husband to Dunkin' Donuts because it's his turn to provide the bagels for coffee break. I guide him inside and caution him to stay close, as many customers are crowding between the counter and the door, and the guide dog is in the car because he'd just make it worse.

We order 18 bagels, six for his office and a dozen for mine, discussing his office preferences, as he can't see the flavor choices and I don't know his colleagues' preferences. I leave my husband (as collateral) eating breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts while driving to the supermarket for cash because when we left the house he insisted we had enough money between us for both of us to buy bagels for our offices, but he'd forgotten his wallet, and even all the change in the toll dispenser in the car didn't make it. (Note: This is a MAN thing, NOT to be blamed on blindness!) At 7:51 a.m. I drop him off and drive myself to work (with dog hair sticking to the water condensed on the outside of the Coolata cup).

After work, I pick up my husband from his job as Public Relations Coordinator at the Genesee Region Independent Living Center, and drive to the ATM to deposit his paycheck. The ATM drive-up window has Braille on the keys... Get real! (I have a license plate holder on my car that says "Driver reads Braille" but it doesn't keep the tailgaters off my bumper!)

Anyhow, this ATM drive-up has Braille on the keys, but using the ATM also requires responding to what is on the screen. Since the screen doesn't talk, should my husband sit in my lap so he can read the Braille while I read him the screen? Maybe I should just teach him to memorize the locations of the buttons and the sequence of operations called for on the screen, take his chances that he's pushed the right buttons and pray that the machine is working properly. But I really don't think the guy in the pick-up behind me (whose Dobermans are barking at our guide dog) would understand if my husband and I get out of the car to have a lesson on using the ATM!

At 4:48 p.m. we drive to the hardware store and lumber yard to pick up 2x4's, plywood and other items needed for my husband to make a sandwich sign for our church fundraiser. We both approach the counter, and I guide him up to the clerk and turn away from him so that the clerk will talk to my husband, not me.

Most people seem to be more comfortable talking to someone who gives them eye contact, but since my husband is very sociable and knowledgeable about woodworking, I just get out of his way in order to make sure he's the one to talk with the clerk.

I learned this avoidance tactic because once a few years ago I had accompanied my husband to a new place to get his hair cut. When we walked into the salon, the stylist greeted us and my husband asked if she could take a walk-in. She turned to me and asked, "Does he want a haircut?"

My husband answered, "I sure would," to which she responded, "Then bring him over here, get his coat off him, and sit him down in the chair!" I guided him to the coat rack and he put his coat on a hook. I guided him to the chair where he seated himself, and left the salon so that he could do his public awareness thing with her.

By the time I came back, his "ears were lowered" and she was actually treating him like a real person! Anyway, when we go back to pick up the lumber, it's me with the 2x4 hoisted over my shoulder so I can "eyeball it" to see if it's warped.

At 5:13 p.m. we stop at the grocery store to pick up a few items for dinner. Children in various locations around the store exclaim, "DOGGIE!" as we go by. Some parents just say, "Yes, Doggie," others say, "that's a SPECIAL doggie," and others say, "No, you can't pet the doggie because he's working." Still others just try to get the kid to be quiet by quickly moving away from the doggie.

We often stop to let the children pet the dog, explaining that they can only pet dogs when they've asked the owner's permission. We explain about the harness and the doggie's job to keep the owner safe.

Adults also notice the dog, and will usually either compliment us on him or ask his name. When people ask what kind of dog he is, my husband will first respond that he's a guide dog, even though he's fully aware of the fact that what they really want to know is the breed (Australian Shepherd). That's his way of saying that people are supposed to ignore the dog when he's working. The dog used to wear a sign to that effect, but nobody ever paid any attention to it.

One woman didn't say one word to my husband and actually fed the dog while my husband was walking with him, and I had to run interference so the dog wouldn't walk my husband into a display of buy-one-get-one potato chips!

The trips to the grocery store were even more fun last fall when I had foot surgery and had to be in a wheelchair for eight weeks! We'd either get a motorized cart I could drive with husband and dog following behind (and sometimes passing because the dog wasn't paying attention), or we'd get a cart that could be attached to the wheelchair with Velcro straps.

This was quite a dog and pony show! One day, the electric cart was out of order and we couldn't get a wheelchair cart that I could propel myself. I tried to direct my husband in pushing the wheelchair cart, "Left a little...slow down...right a little - stop-Stop-STOP! (as someone innocently walked in front of the cart)! This was so unnerving that we finally had to ask for someone to push my wheelchair cart and get the groceries off the shelves while my husband and I kind of "came along for the ride."

To drive home, I'd have to drive with my left foot, throwing the right foot in the surgical boot over the "hump" to my husband's side of the car. He'd put the wheelchair in the back of the van, and when we got home, he'd wheel me up the ramp he'd built to the front door. Hauling that wheelchair around sure didn't help his back any.

Anyway, at 5:45 p.m. we finally get into the checkout line. My husband and I put the groceries on the belt. Then while I'm trying to write the check, scan my card, and put away the change and receipt, the dog does his usual "Gimme a treat 'cuz I'm cute" routine, jumping up with front paws on the register to startle the clerk while my husband looks around for his favorite candy bar. The dog learned this nifty trick at K-Mart, where one of the clerks keeps treats at her register for whenever we come into the store, whether she's there or not.

Finally we get out to the van and open the hatch to put the groceries inside. Unaware that the woman in the pickup next to us could hear every word, my husband asks me to pull his thumb. Because my chiropractor often does this to me as an adjustment for pain in my wrist, I thought nothing of it and pulled his thumb, at which point he released the gas from the baked beans he'd had at lunch! I don't know who laughed harder -- my husband, me or the lady in the pickup!

At 5:45 p.m. we drive home and cook dinner together, using the microwave I'd adapted with Braille and jars and cans of food he'd opened yesterday when I wasn't home that weren't labeled with Braille and didn't turn out to be what he wanted. We've learned to be creative in combining miscellaneous items like cans of asparagus and marinated mushrooms with a jar of sun dried tomatoes to make some pretty interesting pasta dishes!

My husband's adapted slicing knife is the envy of our friends, as it has an adjustable guide to slice onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, bagels or what-have-you at whatever thickness you desire. My husband gets ice cubes out of the icemaker, but I get to pick up the ones that he drops that go sliding across the floor under the table (he has a bad back)!

After dinner, I reprogram all of our digital clocks, along with the air conditioner and VCR, as last night's thunderstorm made the power go out, and most digital devices are not accessible to people who are blind.

My husband is the pastor and the pianist for our church. At 7:00 p.m., I type and translate into Braille the key scriptures for his sermon, as well as, the list of songs chosen for our upcoming worship service, along with the key signature and number of verses.

Brailling is done on my husband's talking computer with a special translation program and a Braille printer. He also has a talking Braille-input laptop. Both computers can be used for e-mail and Internet access, although non-text attachments must be sent to me, as these are not accessible to him.

At 8:45 p.m. I check the rest of my e-mail on my computer. I reformat the e-mail and attachments my husband needs, also removing the "<>" and "=20" from these for more understandable reading with speech, and re-send to his text-based e-mail account.

At 9:34 p.m. my husband comes in from the garage to ask me to come outside and tell him which side of the plywood is the nicest looking so that he can have that side facing outward for the sandwich sign. While I'm out there, he also asks if I would please locate the last three special screws he'd dropped on the floor that had rolled under his table saw. He'd found the other 13 screws himself, but between not knowing where they were and his bad back, he just couldn't get the last three.

I had to turn the light on in the garage to find them. The week we moved to Batavia, my husband had been sawing some wood out in the garage late one evening and the neighbors were quite upset that they heard the saw but the lights weren't on in the garage!

At 11:30 p.m. as I'm getting ready for bed, I hear a blood-curdling yell from my husband on the stairway. The dog had left a bone on the stairs, and my husband had twisted his ankle on it. Then I notice that he's stripped down to his shorts, the draperies are open downstairs, and he's essentially "on TV" for anyone who might be looking through the windows to see him prancing around in his "undies," not to mention calling attention to himself by screaming on the stairway! He just doesn't seem to care that people might see him in his skivvies. Is that a "guy thing?" or because he's blind?

My husband insists that the fans and air conditioners be turned off so he can sleep, because he's sick of hearing motors all day (before we got the new refrigerator, he'd even unplug the old one while we were eating because it was so loud). Then he turns on the radio next to his bed and plugs in the earplug so as not to disturb me.

I'm hot, and he's still got noise in his ear. Is this a guy thing or a blind guy thing, or just my husband's thing?

In the middle of the night, he wakes up and can't get back to sleep. I wake up to the swish-swish of his fingers going across the pages of his Braille Bible, thankful that at least he didn't need to turn the light on to read!

Editor's Note: Judi is a dully-certified teacher of students with visual impairments and an Orientation and Mobility Specialist. She is employed at the New York State Resource Center for the Visually Impaired as an Assistant in the Training of Special Educators. You can email her at cnj@iinc.com. She met her husband Charlie at church services while visiting a friend in Binghamton, New York. They have just celebrated their seventh anniversary.