The Blind Vampire Hunter

by Tim Forder

  This unpleasant first visit to the Wilmer Eye Institute at Johns Hopkins was the beginning of many years of unpleasant testing. I should mention that this point that while many of the tests were bothersome to downright painful, the staff at Johns Hopkins was very pleasant throughout—with one exception, the initial diagnosis incident given to my mother.

  The easiest tests were of the normal variety, designed to test the decline in your eyesight. One was the normal peripheral eye test where they stick your head into a large cone and have you indicate when the dot is visible and when it goes missing. I took this test for so many years that the testing went from a manual recording, to the system being totally computerized. Personally, as a programmer, I felt more comfortable with the computer results being more accurate.

  The night vision testing was very unpleasant. The first stage of the testing was putting test subjects in a totally dark room for hours. Happily for us test subjects, the test administrators quickly learned it was wise to put more than one person at a time in the room so the test subjects could pass the time conversationally with each other. When they tested my family, it was early in the studies. My sister was put in a room by herself, where she panicked and fainted during this phase of testing. Ever heard of sensory deprivation? [Sensory deprivation. Short-term sessions of sensory deprivation are described as relaxing and conducive to meditation; however, extended or forced sensory deprivation can result in extreme anxiety, hallucinations, bizarre thoughts and depression.]

  My personal favorite for pure pain was when they put my chin in a chin vise, put a flash camera in front of my eyes, and took a dozen or more flash photos of each eye. I found this particularly interesting considering one of the first things they tell you early on with RP is to avoid bright light, as it could aggravate the RP into developing faster. I don’t know if this testing aggravated the RP, but it sure aggravated me. Not to mention the pain. This diagnoses of pending blindness occurred during my college years.

  During all these years of testing, life went on.

  After high school, I moved on to college. My major studies in the field of Wildlife Biology. My future plan was to get a career where I could spend lots of time in the woods alone meanwhile making a living. After all, I had lots of experience spending time in the woods alone while hiding from my peers “getting fresh air” as a kid.

  Classes were going great for about two years, when our college program got a new department head. Mrs. March tried to pull some fancy reprogramming that resulted in some of us students getting burned. This gave me time to reevaluate my situation: With the strong potential prospect of going blind, I suspended my studies. I did not see much of a career as a blind wildlife biologist.

  Nailing a library clerk job with a major corporation, I started taking internal classes in computer science and found I had a real future and enjoyment in that direction. When I found out the corporation would pay for my evening college classes, I went back to college to become a full programmer. When I progressed from library clerk to assistant programmer within the corporation, I found a real first-rate apartment only a few blocks from work.

  About five years later, just like any weekday morning, I set off to walk to work. On the way to work, I seemingly bounced off a sidewalk sign and a pole along the way. When I walked into my office, I accidently kicked a trash can across the room, a trash can the cleaning crew had failed to properly put back after emptying. Something was really wrong.

  After work, it was bowling night. When I left work, I took the bus downtown to the bowling alley. When I got off the bus at my usual bus stop, I turned and bounced nose-first off a telephone pole. There was no doubt about it, I had lost considerable eyesight overnight. This was a possible occurrence I had been warned about often during my RP testing visits.

  I had been educated in the possibility that with RP one could have a sudden noticeable loss of eyesight, and literally overnight this had happened to me. This was not all bad. This event was not severe enough to have left me fully blind—this time.

  The very next day I went into the Employee Assistance department and explained what had happened. I explained that I had gone from slightly legally blind to very legally blind, and for starters I needed mobility training.

  The next day I was called back to Employee Assistance department and was introduced to Miss May from the Maryland Department of Rehabilitation.

  When I was asked my goals, I replied, “I’m currently in college, taking night classes, studying to be a programmer.”

  “Computers. That’s a great field for the blind. There is so much technology out there to assist the blind, or legally blind in the performance of their work.”

  Interest peaked, “Really, like what?”

  “There are CCTVs (Closed Circuit Television Viewers), a magnifier that can blow up a whole page onto a TV screen. There are voice and Braille computers; and voice readers like the Kurzweil Reader....”

  After some discussion on the various machines for the handicapped she said, “Don’t worry I will set you up. But for now, I need to set you up with some white cane training.”

  “White cane?”

  “A visual aid that will assist you in getting around safely; as well as let others around you know that you are visually impaired and may not be able to see them.”

  Later that day I got a phone call from a Miss Becker, a mobility instructor, who set up an appointment to see me at work the very next day. She continued to see me at work and around about the work complex until I had my white cane mobility training down properly using the fiber straight cane she had provided at no cost. On the cane was the writing “NFB” so I asked, “What is this NFB?”

  “The National Federation of the Blind is an organization about and for the blind. I highly recommend you get in touch with them. They can be very helpful for the blind in many ways.”

  She also educated me in the various types of white canes, “This is a straight cane. There are also folding and collapsible white canes. The collapsible canes collapse up into itself when not in use. I have been told that the problem with the collapsible cane is that it may collapse while in use, so I recommend the folding white cane. It is in four to five parts with a large flexible band running down the center. When not in use you fold it up and loop the end of the band around the cane. When not in use it can then fit in your pocket.”

  She must have called the NFB and gave them my number, as I got a call from a local member to invite me to their next meeting. The conversation ended with me agreeing that I would attend their next meeting.

  There was this one interesting, not to mention a bit surprising incident. Walking into a Peoples Drug Store I bumped into a big man who tried to walk into the store at the same time.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly.

  “On no, I’m sorry. It was all my fault,” this big man exclaimed with strong feeling.

  I just stood there, possibly with my mouth open. I was surprised when I realized this was the same man I had bumped into in just the same way a week earlier. This same big man who, after I apologized for accidently bumping him, angrily threatened to tear my head off for being so rude and clumsy as to get in his way. The difference, a week ago I did not have my white cane with me.

  I attended my first NFB meeting. As one going blind, the first thing that impressed me was how many professionally employed members were in attendance. There were programmers, systems analysts (which I had some great conversations with on programming and special equipment in the field of program design), a lawyer, small company owners, and several members who worked in fields related to the blind such as Braille proofreaders who worked in and for the government. I was quickly impressed that there were real blind people in real professional careers. It gave me hope for that day if or when I went totally blind.

  During my first meeting, I also learned about a couple of great sources for supplies and adaptive education; Volunteers for the Visually Handicapped (VVH) and The Lighthouse for The Blind. A couple of c
lasses at the Lighthouse in cooking taught me that I was a real disaster in the kitchen. My gastronomy specialty remained F-or-F. Fast (food) or Frozen (microwave (nuked) dinners). There was a pizza place right on the way home from work that normally you would walk into, cross the tables area, and place your order at the counter. I visited the restaurant so often, ordering the same type pizza, that eventually all I had to do was walk in and sit down. They would bring me out my Coke and when my pizza was ready (the same pizza I always ordered) they would bring it out as well. I did not need to place a dinner order. I just paid at the table.

  Both VVH and Lighthouse had social group activities. For instance, with the VVH group, we went to the C&O canal for tandem biking with plenty of sighted volunteers. I brought a date to this one, a young lady I had met at church. We learned that tandem biking wasn’t for us. For one thing, it just did not seem to work with a little lightweight in the front and a big old blind guy in the back seat. Second, yes, we did try biking with the blind guy up front. This got rid of the weight distribution problem, but can you guess what the new problem was?

  The Lighthouse had a yearly tradition I always looked forward to—

  a trip to the Baltimore stadium to see my Orioles play ball. One year, the fans were really giving the umpire a hard time. I got an idea, which I was a little late acting on. Just as everyone stopped yelling at the umpire, I raised my folding white cane in the air and yelled, “Give that umpire my white cane.” He had been ignoring everyone else, but he just had to turn to see me waving my white cane at him and yelling again, “Give that umpire my white cane.” If you’re wondering, no, I had not had a few beers by then, I had just gotten into the spirit of the mob that day. I started a new tradition that lasted years. The group, often many of the same people from year to year, playfully teased me about giving the umpire my white cane. One year I was ready for them; I had brought two white canes with me. Just in case the umpire needed one.

  During my interview with Employee Assistance, I mentioned that the sudden loss could happen again and leave me totally blind at any time. I might have mentioned that it would be great if I got my programming degree and got into a programming department before I went totally blind, so I had some visual experience within my chosen career. They acted on this.

  A week later Employee Assistance called me in and introduced me to Mrs. Walker, Head of Internal Programming Department. The result was that I was offered and accepted a programming position before I finished my education and received my degree, “..so you will have the optimal time to develop program experience while your eyesight lasts.”

  This was great. But what about those visual devices to aid me in my work? Calls to my rehab counselor all were the same, “Lack of funding, complain to your local Congressman.”

  Following such a call, I received another call from my mother, who could hear the disappointment in my voice from my talk with my rehab counselor. After asking about my “moody mod”, she asked for my counselor’s name and phone number.

  The next day, my rehab counselor called me at my apartment because I had been up all night with a migraine headache and had called in sick to get some sleep. She set up an appointment at my apartment for that very afternoon to discuss my needs and to give me a required IQ test. Before the meeting, I called my mother who informed me that when the counselor gave her the “Lack of funding, complain to your local Congressman.” My mother responded with, “I work with Congressman so-n-so, Congressman so-n-so and Congressman so-n-so. Which one would you like me to have call you?”

  During the IQ test, Miss May made the observation that I would make a great programmer because I think like a computer. During one part of the test, the person tested is supposed to look at a circle and check the chart to see what the number for that circle is (for example “1”), record it under the circle, go to the next figure (for example, a square), check the chart to see that the number for squares are (say “2”), go to the next (for example, another circle), check the chart to see what the number is and so on..

  I looked at the circle, checked the chart and put a “1” under all the circles, checked the chart for squares and put a “2” under all the squares and checked the chart for triangles and put a “3” under all the triangles and so on. Miss May commented that my system was the fastest she had ever seen, I had handled it like a computer would have. I should make a great programmer.

  This was the early 80’s. Computer-wise, this was still the time of mainframe computing. There was no such thing as PCs. Dumb terminals connected a human to one very big computer and that was all the terminal could perform. All the real work was done at the mainframe computer, hence the term “Dumb Terminal.”

  The Corporation, note the corporation, not Maryland Rehab., got me the first talking terminal on the East coast, so of course they also got me a news reporter to report the event. The interview went well—almost. I thought the reporter had left, so I was quite surprised when a question my boss asked just after the interview was printed in the article...

  My hearing impaired boss asked, “Does this terminal have both voice input and output?”

  Having a little fun with the women programmers within our department, I pointed at the large speaker under the CRT screen and answered, “No. It’s like a woman, all mouth—no ears.”

  Later, when the article was printed, my girlfriend read it to me, rolled up the newspaper, and hit me over the head with it. I will not tell you what my mother had to say when she read the article, but no, she did not cry.

  A teacher of the blind after reading the article called me for permission to bring her students out to see my equipment and to allow her blind students a chance to talk with a visually handicapped professional. I told her it was fine with me, but she most likely would have to talk to Employee Services (previously known as Employee Assistance Dept. through corporate restructuring) either for permission or to be referred to the right people to give her such permission. The next day she called again. She had received permission and wanted to set up a day and time that was good for me. After all the details of the visit were accomplished, she added, “I have a new student, who just lost her eyesight as a result of a drunk driver. She sees no future ahead of her without sight. Her name is Mary. Could you possibly spend a little time with her?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  The teacher and her young class of blind students arrived and for the most part showed great interested in the equipment and what I had to say about working, even though I had very poor eyesight. There was this one little girl who was a noticeable recluse. Remembering what the teacher had said about a particular little newly blind girl named Mary, I touched her shoulder and asked, “What is your name?”

  Shyly she answered, “Mary.”

  Setting the terminal controls to read what I typed, I typed and the computer said, “Hi, Mary. I’m the computer talking to you.”

  That put some life into her.

  The entire office got quite a laugh when after the students had left, and after they had had a real good look at the terminal, blind style. The boss got out some cleanser to clean off all the many little fingerprints to be found all over the computer.

  Later I got a call from the teacher of the blind students. “I just wanted to thank you for your time. The kids were fascinated by the whole visit. By the way, Mary has gotten into the program, she says ‘So I can be a programmer like Mr. Poisner and his talking computer.’”

  With the realization that this Christmas might be the last Christmas I could enjoy seeing Christmas lights I developed a new admiration for all the many Christmas illuminations and the many fancy lit displays of Christmas.

  Eventually I finished school, got my degree and became a full programmer. With the increase in pay, I moved to a larger apartment, which was even closer to work. After I moved in, I discovered one major problem. I now had to cross two major highways to get to work. My biggest problem was crossing George Ave. and living long enough to get to the other side
. As trained, I would listen to the traffic pattern and when the parallel traffic moved, I would point my white cane out and move into the crosswalk—where more often than not an impatient driver would violate my right to the crosswalk and cut me off. Sometimes they would get so close as to hit my white cane. Sometimes they would get so close as to smack my white cane right out of my hand.

  One morning, such a driver smacked my white cane clean out of my hand. I heard his car brake and thought, well, at least this driver is going to be nice enough to help me find my white cane. Instead, this male driver got out of his car and yelled angrily, “You just hit my brand new car with your stick!”

  I called back, “No sir, you just smacked my white cane with your car, while violating my right to this crosswalk. You do know what a crosswalk is, don’t you?” Changing my tone gradually with each word from nice to angry, I requested, “Sir, would you mind helping me find my white cane so I can wrap it around your neck?” He just got back into his new car and sped off. Someone else helped me find my now “L-shaped” folding white cane. My cane was bent so badly I had to feel my way back to my apartment and get out my fiberglass straight cane, my backup cane.

  One morning my boss and I got inundated with phone calls from customers, work-related friends, etc. All of them wanted to know if I was alright. Seems a local radio station reported, “A blind man was killed last night crossing George Ave.” I later found out the blind man was a fellow member of my Chapter of the NFB and a friend.

  Later it got out that he was killed by a drunk driver who was racing another car, and that the police did nothing about it, because the victim’s dog guide had him outside the crosswalk, despite the fact that the victim and his dog were next to the crosswalk.

  From that incident, the NFB got busy and prevailed in getting a law passed that basically says, “As neither a white cane nor a dog guide can differentiate the white lines of a crosswalk, if a visually handicapped individual is adjacent to a crosswalk, legally it is the same as if the visually handicapped individual is in the crosswalk.”