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DISABILITY MATTERS:
Imagine a disability you can’t see
CBC News Viewpoint | April 11, 2005 | More from Disability Matters

This column will feature three writers, each with a different
disability. They all have something to say about living with a
disability and how they view awareness and attitudes toward disabilities
in Canada. The column will deal with the rights of people with
disabilities, eliminating inequality and discrimination, and issues of
self-help and consumer advocacy. Our plan is to rotate among our
columnists to have a new column each month.


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 Hélèna Katz is an award-winning journalist based in Montreal. Her work
has appeared in a variety of magazines and newspapers, including
Canadian Geographic, Explore, the Globe& Mail, Homemaker's and the
Montreal Gazette. She is the author of The Mad Trapper: The Incredible
Tale of a Famous Canadian Manhunt.


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What do you think of when someone says the word “disabled?” Most people
picture someone in a wheelchair trying to squeeze themselves through a
narrow doorway. Many people, like me, have a disability you can’t see. I
have a visual impairment and can’t see clearly for more than a few feet
in front of me.

That’s why you wouldn’t want me behind the wheel of a car. Driving is
one of the few things I simply can’t do. I still get up in the morning,
work as a journalist, buy groceries and line up at the bank. But
throughout my day I’m constantly adapting to a world created for people
who see better than I do.

Take getting off elevators on the right floor, for example. Most
elevators have tiny numbers stretched along the top of the door that
light up as the car reaches each floor. I count the floors going by as
each number lights up above the door and hope I make it to my
destination. But it isn’t foolproof. That’s where I get a little
impromptu exercise running up back stairs.

Nonetheless, most people don’t think of me as having a disability. The
advantage in that is no one makes assumptions about what I can or can’t
do. To them, I’m a person first and my disability is a minor detail.

Problem is, people don’t tend to realize just how much energy I expend
adapting to a world that wasn’t designed for me. While I’m able to adapt
to most situations, there are times when I can’t. Then the
responsibility shifts to those around me.

Most people wouldn’t question the wisdom of widening doorways and
installing ramps for people with mobility impairments. So why not extend
the adaptations to people with other types of disabilities? This means
trying to adapt activities to include them when their disability might
prevent them from joining in.

While travelling in Ireland when I was 24, I set out on a 35-mile
cycling trip with six people I had just met at a youth hostel. Although
they barely knew me, they were aware that I had a visual impairment.

It soon became obvious to all of us that cycling was not only difficult
for me, but also dangerous. My eyes were busy looking for bumps and
holes in the road, bushes to the side, and the pack of cyclists ahead.
When we found ourselves sharing a narrow stretch of road with cars,
that’s when the limitations of my disability hit me squarely in the
face.

I could manage if cars passed at long intervals, because it meant I only
had to concentrate intensely for a moment. But when a stream of cars
passed me, the effort was simply too much and I had to get off my bike
and walk.

With no discussion, our group split into two packs. Four people sped
ahead while two others stayed back and cycled slowly with me. When we
stopped for lunch I told Marie, one of the two who had stayed behind,
how badly I felt that I was keeping her from cycling with the others.

Her response was simple and touched me deeply: “My sister has diabetes
and is losing her sight. I think it’s our responsibility to make sure
that she is included in everything we do.”

For her, adapting to someone else’s disability was second nature. The
rest of the group evidently agreed with her, though nothing was said.
They knew how exhausted I was from the physical exertion of cycling and
the mental gymnastics required to keep me upright.

Over lunch they consulted a map, trying to find a shorter route to make
the trip easier for me. When Patricia, another member of the group, said
she wanted to ride back to the hostel instead of completing the trip, I
realized I had another option. Rather than having the decision made for
me, I was given a choice. I thought for a moment while six faces looked
at me expectantly. I decided to ride back.

To this day, I’m still touched by their kindness and the way they tried
to accommodate me without fanfare, as though it was a perfectly common
occurrence. Yet, as someone once commented to me, “We do tend to think
that if the person in a wheelchair can fit though he door, that’s all we
need to worry about.”

I wish non-disabled people would remember that we’re adapting to their
world – one that wasn’t made with our needs in mind. For me, adapting is
an exercise in creativity that often leads to simple solutions and
encourages me to be a creative thinker in all aspects of my life.

Although I’ve tried dogsledding, ice canoeing, snowmobiling,
snowshoeing, sea kayaking, hot air ballooning and I love to hike and
paddle, I still haven’t figured out how to drive a car. The added
freedom and independence to get me to new places would be nice. In the
meantime, I dream of meeting James – my imaginary driver.




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