POWER-STEERING.

(dedicated to the special and dedicated people who prepare us for, and train us with our guide dogs especially Alison Rampling who inspired and has heard this story).

I suppose nobody will believe my story. They’ll think it too fanciful for words but it’s true. As a result of what occurred I was forced to give up my job”.

“I hadn’t really thought of it as doing good works. I saw this advert for a rehabilitation officer and thought it might be interesting so I trained for it. I had previously worked abroad but never before worked with blind people and wondered what that would be like. Till I did I’d imagined blindness to be restrictive and confining, making people dependent and helpless and without the right training and intervention from properly trained people it can be but doesn’t have to be. Once I’d qualified I trained people to get out and about to places of work, the shops and even to the pub! Sometimes it was slow work – Long and laborious like waiting for spring in December and always it requires patience and sensitivity. Each person’s needs and capabilities are different and their levels of ability differ. One of the first and most essential things I learned was never to treat them as a single entity but to see them as the individuals they are. There’s a fine line to be drawn between being warm and approachable and yet professional too and it’s vital to never cross that line but instead to keep a professional detachment without appearing cold and uncaring. Although I did take individual people to my heart I could never show favouritism. I was happy in my work particularly when I’d managed to free someone from their homes where they may have been confined for months or years, enabling them to attain a previously impossible level of independence. This made my work worthwhile and I’m sure I’d still be doing it today but for one client who changed everything for ever. It’s very satisfying to know it’s a mixture of the determination shown by the person you’re helping plus your own skill which has brought about such a positive change in circumstances and although I’m not power crazy I realised I had enormous power to change things for people.

‘I’ll see you at the chemist’s then Joan’ I’d said. With an understandable degree of apprehension Joan set off. She was the only client I’d ever had who made me feel somewhat uneasy. The blind eyes that stared out of her face were cold and aloof though her voice was always warm; the handshake too was deceptively firm and friendly. My shoes, equally soft, were always worn so I could shadow her without her knowing exactly where I was. She was doing all the right things, listening for traffic when at kerbs, manoeuvring the correct way round parked cars at opposite sides of the road, sweeping the up kerbs with the cane so she didn’t bang into posts etc. Eventually she reached the parade of shops in which the chemist’s was situated. I watched her pass the shop several times, retrace her steps and make off in the opposite direction until a member of the public attempted to assist her. Silently I waved her away, indicating she was learning how to find the shop unaided in case nobody was around. Eventually she found it and stood outside waiting for me and I appeared at once to give her praise and encouragement. My downfall was to admit I’d waved someone away when they offered to help. I gaily explained that if I’d not she’d have found the shop sooner. This admission was nearly to cost me my life. For a fleeting moment I thought I saw anger in her eyes as she said with a smile

‘Oh did you Gwen’”

However it was so momentary that I thought I’d imagined it and dismissed it at once as we stood around chatting about how the route went and then set off for our return home”.

“I rolled out of bed rubbing my eyes. ‘Gwen’s coming today’ I thought. For about eight months now I’d submitted myself to this torture. I hated them all – These laughing sarcastic instructors who had the power to reduce me to a wreck. While they were free to come and go as they pleased in their nice warm cars with electric windows, carrying their mobile phones with them, all I had was this hateful inanimate cold badge of blindness in the form of this loathsome white cane with its reflective strip which showed up in the dark and advertised my difference to the world. Gwen was by far the best of them or so I thought. She’d listened to all my woes as well as noting my mobility problems which included a painful back and she’d been discreet and patient. I liked her. Gwen was the bad apple in the barrel theory reversed. In other words she was the good one in a barrel of rotten ones or so I thought.

It started about a fortnight before I was asked to go to the chemist’s. I’d turned down a wrong road instead of crossing it.

‘Where are we off to then Joan’?

Gwen asked in that cheery voice of hers. Although her voice was playful, containing no malice at all I felt my temper rise. She corrected me by making me go over the same section of route a few times and all I wanted was to get home. It was cold and I was becoming irked. When we finally got home I offered Gwen tea but first went to close a window without indicating my intention to her. Gwen, thinking she knew me well enough to joke with me said:

‘That’s not the way to the kitchen Joan! You know what that signifies – Bad orientation’

Because I suffer from retinopathy of prematurity, an eye condition linked in many professional people’s minds with poor spatial awareness and had been labelled that way from childhood onwards, that phrase was like a red rag to a bull. Like a fly in a colander it went round in my head all night. Did Gwen really think of me that way in spite of her protestations to the contrary? Was she really like all the rest of them? Unable to sleep I switched on the radio, only to hear a ridiculous woman on a phone-in programme saying that by the power of thought one can bring about one’s desires. When I rang in I was told I had ‘the sight’! She said I probably possessed not only the gift of prophesy but the ability to move things at will especially when motivated by strong forces of anger”.

“I got to Joan’s on time as usual but noticed at once she looked tired.

‘Are you okay Joan’?

I asked her”.

“No. I have this pain”. I ran for my parked car which I brought to her immediately.

“You needn’t walk home Joan. We’ll do that route another time when you’re feeling better”’

“Did you say you actually waved someone away who was prepared to help me”?

“Yes, as you know that’s all part of the procedure and it gives me an indication of how well you can manage and reassurance that if nobody’s there you’ll be able to manage alone”.

“Just then I noticed my petrol gauge indicated that I needed more so I pulled up at a garage to fill up. As I was about to drive off Joan told me the smell was making her feel sick. Naturally I stopped and opened her door so she could grab some fresh air. I did the same and then to my horror I saw her slide over into my seat. I jumped in beside her but wasn’t quick enough to grab the ignition key. The car seemed to take on a life of its own, weaving in and out of the traffic, gaining momentum and speed as it went. “Stop”! I shouted. “Stop or you’ll have us both killed”. Joan was heedless and driven by some force I didn’t understand but which I knew was evil. We zigzagged onto and off the pavement, hitting a post and finally sped down the cliff road until the two front wheels of the car disappeared over the edge. Incapable of thought never mind speech, I was aware Joan was like a demon possessed. Eventually she began to rave and shout at me, having switched off the car engine as though she sensed our predicament and highly dangerous position.

“How dare you wave people away from me when they offer their help! Well now I’ve got the power – The blind having power over the sighted. Do you know what it feels like to be me? How humiliating it is to go in and out of shop doorways with all eyes upon you? I bet you’re sitting there with your mouth open like a goldfish. Who’s immobile now eh”

Like many blind people who have not been corrected in childhood, Joan occasionally rocked. I’d not seen her do it that often but now, with the car’s front wheels over the cliff edge she was rocking violently as she unleashed her pent-up anger which was a consequence of all the unkind and emotionally damaging treatment by people who ought never to have been involved in blind welfare. Eventually the inevitable happened. The car somersaulted over and over, coming to rest on its roof and eventually burst into flames. Since it was raining nobody was out and about to hear our screams and cries for help. It was then that I woke up.

When I handed in my notice on the Monday after this dream which incidentally I’d had on Halloween – A significant date because all dreams I’d had then invariably came true – My boss was horrified and distressed. When I went round to see Joan to tell her I was leaving and to say my farewells she said with real feeling and tears in her eyes:

“You’re the best mobility instructor I’ve ever had”.

I thanked her for her kind words, telling her she’d been a pleasure to teach but not about my dream. Can you guess what I’m doing now? Why fiction writing of course!.