THINGS HAPPEN FOR REASONS

By Nancy Johnson

In April, I found myself in a wheelchair because of a broken ankle. As I mended, I had time for contemplation. “Why did this happen now?” I asked. I decided it was to strengthen, through experience, my belief that I’ve been absolutely correct in my statements that each disability is different and requires its own set of coping skills.

My home and my neighborhood are totally accessible to me as a blind person. I’m three blocks from the neighborhood coffee shop and from the city bus, which drops me across the street from my office (each an easy walk from the house). Appliances have tactual indicators that I can easily set.

Mobility impairment was a new and extremely frustrating experience. I wasn’t able to get the wheelchair out either the front or the back door. We had to push furniture into corners to make moving around possible. I couldn’t get the wheelchair into the bathroom so had to use crutches. The stove wasn’t safely accessible to a wheelchair, so cooking was limited to the microwave. The kitchen sink was barely within reach. I could reach nothing in the upper cupboards, so the items I most commonly used were stacked on the cabinet. I needed help to do laundry (appliances in the basement) and to get supplies. Other basic daily living tasks I managed well enough to survive. After I no longer needed the wheelchair, I used a walker for a while and still couldn’t get up and down the steps to do the laundry.

My husband has COPD, a condition that requires most of his energy for breathing. Although he is able to walk and can still go up and down the porch steps, he must carry oxygen and use a wheelchair when he leaves the home. His limitations are different from those of either blindness or mobility impairment.

The environmental factors that make the world accessible to me as a blind person don’t make it accessible to me as a mobility-impaired wheelchair user or to my husband with his severe difficulty breathing. Few of us are blind or visually-impaired only. Many of us have multiple disabilities and/or health problems that require accommodations. Each of us is a unique, whole unit. In order for us to function as efficiently and independently as possible, we must be seen in that light. Whether I have one disability or three or four, the goals of maximum independence and self-sufficiency are foremost.

I spend most of my days teaching folks the skills and techniques they need to become independent, efficient blind persons. I can teach someone who uses a wheelchair the necessary skills to function with blindness or severely impaired vision. I have the required knowledge, skills, and devices to use and share. But I don’t have the knowledge and skills to function independently from a wheelchair. I can’t teach someone who is severely visually-impaired or blind all the necessary skills to function maximally with that disability. I learned a little more each day, but I’d seek help from someone with expertise in mobility impairment if the situation were permanent.

As we age, we often develop additional disabilities, and must also develop additional coping skills. Persons with expertise in one type of disability can help others who develop that disability learn to cope. None of us can know everything about all disabilities, however. We will reap maximum benefits only if we work together to meet the needs of everyone. That doesn’t mean a “one size fits all” approach. It means finding out what persons within each disability category need to be their best, then sharing that knowledge across disability lines.

I firmly believe that, with a categorical approach to training and willingness to share expertise across disability lines, all disabled persons can achieve maximal self-sufficiency. Perhaps the reason I broke my ankle was to confirm and strengthen my convictions.