November Goal Expanded

Learning to Rely on My Cane: A November Goal

My November goal of learning to rely on my cane is still in its early stages. Truthfully, I’m not sure if I can fully adjust to using it. The sound of the cane rubbing against the cement feels rough on my mind, a constant reminder of the change I’m adapting to. The truth is, I really only need the cane in the dark, but even that has been an adjustment.

Then there are the bumps and bruises—small reminders of what happens when I rush. Perhaps they could be avoided if I simply slowed down and focused on honing in on my surroundings. But patience is not my strongest trait, especially when it comes to myself.

This journey is teaching me that I need to be kinder to myself. Learning to rely on my cane isn’t just about mastering its use; it’s about accepting the process, the adjustments, and the time it takes to find confidence. I’m trying to remind myself that progress isn’t always perfect, and that’s okay.

For now, I’ll take it one step at a time, with my cane in hand for those dark moments and a little more patience.

Lost in plain Sight

Finding What’s Right in Front of Me: A Story of Adjusting to Life Without Peripheral Vision

There are days when I swear my keys have vanished into thin air. I put them down just a moment ago, right on the table. I know they’re there, yet somehow, when I look, I just can’t see them.

That’s life when you have no peripheral vision. You start to realize how much you rely on those edges of sight. For me, those edges no longer exist. The world I see is limited to what’s directly in front of me. Everything outside that range is a mystery, hidden from view unless I intentionally turn my head to look. But if I don’t remember where I put something, it’s like it’s disappeared from my world entirely.

It took me a while to catch on to what was happening. At first, I thought I was just getting forgetful. I’d set down my coffee cup or my phone, get distracted, and then spend the next ten minutes searching high and low for it. Friends and family would tell me, “It’s right there!” as if it was just magically invisible to me. And, well, it sort of was.

One day, after what felt like the hundredth round of hide-and-seek with my keys, I realized that I needed a solution. My keys weren’t vanishing. I was simply putting them down and walking away, unable to find them later because they were lost in those edges of my vision.

I started experimenting with “drop zones”—specific spots where I’d place certain items, like my keys, my phone, or my glasses. I started small, creating a small “landing pad” by the front door where I could always set down my keys. After

Learning to Lean on My Cane: A Journey Towards Independence

The past few months have been a whirlwind of new challenges, with stumbles, trips, and even a fall to remind me of the reality I’m facing. I’ve always prided myself on being fiercely independent, so adjusting to this new need for support has been far from easy. For a long time, I avoided the thought of using a cane; it felt like admitting defeat, like I'm letting go of that independence.

When I first met with Amanda, my social worker, we spent time talking about the practicalities and benefits of using a cane. Until that conversation, I hadn’t fully appreciated just how much a cane could offer beyond mere physical support. Amanda opened my eyes to the way it could change not just how I navigate the world but how I experience it. Here are the key advantages Amanda highlighted:

Safety

The cane has become a crucial safety measure, helping me navigate stairs, curbs, and those sneaky uneven surfaces that always seem to appear out of nowhere. Using my cane would offer me security, knowing it would reduce the risk of trips and falls.

Alerting

Acting like an extension of my senses, the cane will offer me a way to “feel” the surroundings I cannot see. It’s a constant guide that will let me know what’s ahead—whether it’s a sudden dip in the sidewalk or a stray obstacle—before I encounter it.

Confidence

This was the point that resonated the most. A cane isn’t just a tool; it’s a pathway to renewed confidence. If I use it, perhaps, I can reclaim a sense of independence, knowing I can navigate safely and on my own terms.

I’ve taken a significant step in my journey toward independence—I ordered and received my cane from the National Federation for the Blind. Now, the real challenge begins: learning how to use it and embracing what it represents.

Getting over the stigma of using a cane feels like the biggest hurdle. The thought of being seen as “different” is difficult, and I worry about the glances I might get. But I’m slowly realizing that it’s not just a tool for others to recognize my visual impairment; it’s a tool that can help me recognize my own strength. This cane is here to support me as I regain my confidence and navigate the world with a sense of security and independence.

So, here I am, ready to take on this new phase. Wish me luck as I work to see this cane not as a label but as a key to reclaiming my life and embracing normalcy once again. Here’s to taking it one step at a time!

Embarrassing Moment at the Jazz Game

As long-time season ticket holders, my husband and I have our designated seats at Jazz games, which we’ve sat in for years. It's practically our second home by now! Last night was no different – we were settled in, enjoying the game, and at halftime, I decided I’d head to the ladies' room. Although Brian offered to accompany me, I was confident I could manage this solo adventure just fine.

I navigated my way to the restroom with no issues and was feeling pretty accomplished as I made my way back. What I didn’t know was that, after I’d left, Brian decided to step away as well. So, when I returned, I naturally aimed for the familiar sight of white hair in the crowd, convinced I’d found him sitting right where I left him.

I settled back into my seat, feeling victorious – until I glanced down to where I’d left my drink, only to find it missing. A little confused, I turned and asked, “What did you do with my drink?”

But the voice that answered wasn't Brian's. Realizing my mistake, I laughed, apologized to the surprised gentleman, and quickly got up to search for my actual seat. Let’s just say, I got my steps in that night!

Day or Night

As someone who is visually impaired, I've noticed that my days and nights often get mixed up. This happens because my body relies on light to regulate my internal clock, the circadian rhythm, which controls when I feel awake or sleepy. Since I can’t perceive light the way others do, my body doesn’t get the usual signals that help people know when it’s time to be awake or go to sleep.

As a result, my sleep patterns can become out of sync with the typical 24-hour day-night cycle. There are times when I find myself wide awake in the middle of the night or feeling extremely tired during the day, which can be frustrating. It’s like my internal clock drifts and follows its own schedule, leading to unpredictable sleep times.

I’ve learned that this is actually quite common for people with limited or no light perception and is known as "non-24-hour sleep-wake disorder."

Welcome

Welcome to my blog! I’m Kymberlee Heath, and I've been happily married to my best friend, Brian, for 21 amazing years. I'm a proud mom of three sons and an even prouder grandma to five granddaughters and three grandsons—being their grandma is hands down my favorite role in life! By profession, I’ve spent the last 22 years working as a Senior Analyst in WFPA Forecasting and Scheduling at Verizon Wireless. But there’s more to me than just my career. I’m passionate about true crime, crafts, and crochet, and I have a special love for old cars. One of my most prized possessions is my ’71 Karmann Ghia, which I absolutely adore.

Visually Impaired

Being visually impaired means that I have a significant loss of vision that can't be corrected with standard glasses, contact lenses, medication, or surgery, but it doesn't mean I'm completely blind. I still have some usable vision, which means I see things in a blur. When my environment changes, I'm only able to distinguish light and shadows. Once my vision has adjusted with time, I have difficulty seeing at certain distances and around the edges of my vision, with some blur in my central vision.

In contrast, being blind would mean having no vision at all or only being able to sense light without any clear images. As someone who is visually impaired, I often rely on the vision I have left to navigate the world, using aids like magnifying glasses, large-print texts, or screen readers. Someone who is blind would rely more on non-visual methods, such as Braille or auditory cues.