This one's for Galatea

Now, first, I have to remind y'all that my MOM reads this!  My adoptive Mom!  And my auntie, and my sister, and other family like that.  So, I will keep it at a family level. 

When I got out of the hospital for depression, at age 13, I faced High School.  I had scared the hell out of my Jr High.  They wanted me in some kind of special ed, and put me in as a "teacher's aide" in the class for the blind students.  I think because I had thick, coke-bottle glasses. 

I helped for 2 years, and learned a lot about working with "The Blind".  Phil used to tease me as he injected his insulin, and everyone loved Robbie.  I liked them a lot and Don, the teacher, taught me some braille. 

I learned "The Blind" were pretty much like anyone else.  I have always had a "helper" mentality, and wanted to be an Occupational Therapist (ha!  I guess I am on some level) when I graduated.  [shrug]  I like to help people. 

So, I engaged in some mildly criminal activity (while manic), and that was the end of that.  Time to PUNISH Heather!  Put her in the SERIOUSLY EMOTIONALLY DISTURBED class.  I know! 

I can laugh at it now, but I should have been there my whole life!  [snorting]  I was there for 2 years. 

It was decided, for me, that I needed to disenroll from my beloved business class (interesting that I am in small business now), and enroll in the ROP program.  Oh, I was furious.  The brain damage was bad, the bipolar worse; but having no control over what classes I took? 

To make it worse, they made me ride the short bus to "work", along with some severely developmentally disabled.  Oh, what a blow to my pride. 

I ended up having a tremendous depression, and while on a church retreat came that close to walking off into the snowy woods and stripping down to my undies.  I figured that would do it, by the time they found me (it was snowing), it would be too late.  Only the hand of God restrained me, let me tell you. 

On this LOVELY note, I am forcibly dragged by my scruff into the fast-food franchise.  I do well in the classes, although I had and still maintain a very healthy fear of deep-fat fryers.  They liked me.  Since I'm friendly and eager to please they put me up front on a register. 

The severely developmentally disabled stayed in back, watching the sanitation videos.  I was actually hired, a real coup for the program. 

Who should I find next to me but a friendly blind guy named Ron?  He is also enrolled in the program.  My people hope I'll get a job on a register, he's in the management program.  We're both "Disabled". 

I'm an extrovert, and back then he was too.  We hit it off right away and knew we had something special.  Ron actually got fired for dating me, although they saw it more as molesting, I think.  He's 20 years older than me, and I was only 17.  In his defense I did lie about my age; Ron only found out when the boss asked me about my "Work Permit". 

{6 months later, the day after I turned 18, we ran off together.  It is very funny to think, when I got to work Maria would always get on the headset and say "Ron, your wife is here!"  Yeah!  }

Ron was disgusted at the way my life was going.  I was told "You won't be graduating, we don't think you can handle life after high school and want to keep you in the egg for another 6 months".  GAH.  It was awful.  I had a few outside friends, and let me tell you, it was horrible listening - they got to plan their lives! 

About this time, I got diagnosed with FAS - and told it was doubtful I'd ever life on my own.  Another crushing depression.  The only one who could talk to me as Ron.  He was very supportive and encouraged me. 

Ron's always been very independent.  From what I see on Metrolift, the people who go blind later in life have a terrible time adapting.  They especially hate to carry a long white cane, which is foolish.  The cane is a great tool for mobility and even the worst criminal will help a blind man.  I never got hassled in horrible neighborhoods because people knew I was with him.  That, and I was with Him! 

Ron, and the other people I've met who went blind as children, have always been more fearless and independent.  They carry canes. 

When I met him, Ron rented a room from a lady.  He walked from her house to the bus stop, and took the bus to the train station.  He took the train, got off, crossed a parking lot, and waited at a bus stop, which carried him to work.  After work, he did the whole thing in reverse. 

When he wants to "do mobility", he and I go out, he "feels" his way around with the cane, looking at all the landmarks (mailboxes, poles, driveways, etc).  We figure out, after the third driveway, turn right, then go the second pole.  He has said I am a better mobility instructor than professional instructors, and he said that when we were fighting a lot!  I have taught him "Where to go" for the last 18 years! 

When we moved, he would walk around, feeling the rooms, until the got them mapped up in his head.  He does a lot of maps in his head.  He doesn't travel much these days, but he gives great directions. 

Most blind people, from what I hear, are NOT that independent.  The fact that Ron walked to work everyday was a given, he had always walked to work.  But try telling that to people after his accident!  [rolleyes]  People blame me to this day, but like Ron said, if I'd been with him, they would have had TWO people in ICU.  The driver ran a red light; I couldn't have prevented that. 

Ron's motto is UNWANTED HELP IS HARM.  He HATES it when people fuss over him.  Ron hates having to ask for help; and gets frustrated sometimes when it's required.   Ron's very intrigued by this, he has come into the room. 

I do all the laundry and stain removal.  Ron wears neutral pants and pocket t-shirts, buttondowns, or a sweatshirt.  I "check" him before we go and make sure he doesn't have any stains.  I have met a few blind guys walking around with old stains on their shirts.  One guy I know regularly gets shaving cuts and bleeds all over his collar. 

Ron only has black socks; he had matching issues and they always blamed me.  Now, it's all black. 

He says "We marry for what you are, not what you look like".  Good point.  We had an employee once, a former stripper, who was always flashing her cleavage at him.  It had NO effect. 

Ron isn't into any kind of performance art.  Obviously, he hates museums.  He hates sports; even though with a good AM radio he could "get" it.  He falls asleep at the theater and movies (head injury thing).  For recreation, we generally went out for fast food of some type.  We took tons of long walks together, and hiking.  I wish we had done more hiking. 

We liked to go to the Sutro Baths in San Franscico and sit on the rocks by the water, and I taught him how to take an overpass over a freeway to Coyote Point Park.  It's very close to San Francisco Airport, he would sit by the water and listen to the waves. 

We got into Ham Radio back in 1995, and I passed my test before he did.  Ron enjoyed building things for his setup and working on his antennas - walking around by himself on the flat, third-story roof.  I have a dead terror of heights.  He strung a wire from the ladder to the mast, and used his cane if he went "off the wire". 

Remember, it was walking to work that almost killed him! 

On the intimacy, not a big deal.  I have only "been" with him, anyway.  I will say he can be selective - he can "look" at the good stuff and ignore the belly flab.   Yay!  Obviously when I gained the weight he could tell.  He was sure happy to see me lose it, but has asked me to keep my weight around where it is now.  "Don't lose anymore" being his exact phrase when I was 165. 

We took the Greyhound bus to Reno, Nevada, one weekend.  We had fun at the slots, I only had about $40; won a little, enough to buy a coffee cup.  Ron always enjoyed my narration at zoos.  He said I made the animals alive. 

He's always enjoyed listening to music.  We went to a couple of good concerts on public transit.  After one concert, we had to walk miles, catch a bus, and our local bus had stopped running.  We walked several miles home from the depot, the only scary thing a family of raccoons. 

Oh, Ron was born with an inherited form of glaucoma.  He had very little vision; and lost what he had at age 8.  He had 9 eye operations.  He was enrolled in a pre-k early learning program with the Red Cross.  One of the reasons I think he is so different from his family.  He graduated top of his class in the vending program, beating out a woman with a Master's degree. 

The only time I ever really regretted marrying Ron:
We had a little spare cash and Ron wanted to get a recliner.  At the time, we had a plastic lawn chair in the living room, a table and 4 chairs we bought at the Salvation Army and took home in a shopping cart (oh yes we did), and that was it.  So, we went to Savers. 

They had a good collection of recliners; all modestly priced in the $20-$40 range.  They all looked "Okay" except for the hideous green plaid.  It was a lovely vinyl, with a pea-olive green plaid seat and back.  The rest of the chair was a horrible billous green vinyl.  I sat down, and attempted to raise the foot.  Praise God, it didn't work. 

"Pick anything you like, it all looks OK to me".  I went off looking at clothes, and used books.  Boy, they had a fantastic collection of used books.  I finished up. 

To my horror, Ron was fully reclined in the horrible green chair.  I ran to him, hoping to escape.  "Look, I FIXED it!" he cried happily!  "And the clerk gave me half off!"  WHAT?!

"Well," he continued, "You said they were all OK by you, and it was such a great deal I already bought it".  The clerk smirked at me as he pointed at the sign "NO REFUNDS". 

It was a chair, only a blind man could love.  I endured that chair, that horrible, horrible, chair, for 5 years.  The cats loved to claw it up, and I sure wasn't stopping them.