Good news: I’ve turned the corner and am headed back into the land of the healthy living. I have a long way to go before I actually feel good again, but I feel less bad today than I did yesterday.
Bad news: Steve’s starting to cough and feel off. :-(
So today we did Amtrak. The Sacramento train station terminal has changed, so it was new to me as well as Pat. It may take a couple more times before we really have it down so we can make smooth approaches to the ticket counter and then over to the Assistance bench. When I am traveling by myself (except for Pat, that is) I will still always ask for assistance to get out to the correct track. But when we come back into Sacramento, we’ll be able to make it back into the terminal on our own. At least, we will when we’re taking the Capitol Corridor trains between Sacramento and the Bay Area. The approach back to the terminal is probably different for other routes. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy getting from the train back to the terminal was with Pat guiding me (and Steve walking behind, making sure we “stayed on track,” so to speak).
When I traveled on Amtrak with Trace, the path between the terminal and the tracks was usually “under construction” and changed so often it was better just to wait for assistance. And when I traveled with April before all the remodeling started, it was a simple straight shot on a well-marked path from the terminal out to the Amtrak trains. Now there is a circuitous walkway that tunnels under the tracks and brings you back up to the train platforms. Safer, but a much longer and very convoluted trek.
Pat is good about climbing into those golf-cart style trams and staying steady for the ride. (Note to myself: remember to ask the driver which side we’ll be getting out on, so I can work Pat in to face the getting-off side. That way he can just step out, and I don’t have to back him up or have him get up on the seat on order to turn around to get out.)
We only went as far as Davis — just sixteen bucks roundtrip and fifteen minutes away, over the Sacramento River and Yolo Bypass into downtown Davis. We had about 90 minutes to hang out before the return train, so we found a pub nearby for lunch. It was absolutely lovely being able to say, “Pat, find the door!” and walk in without having to hang on to anyone’s arm, and then to stand up after we’d finished, and simply tell Pat to “Find the door!” again. It may seem like a little thing, but being able to get in and out of a building on your own power, smoothly and quietly, without clacking and tapping the cane into things so you don’t have to bump into them yourself, is huge. I can’t even begin to describe how huge. I know I’m lucky I’ve got Andy and great friends always happy to give me an arm, and I am utterly absolutely grateful for that. And I think it’s fair to say I have a healthy enough sense of self-esteem and self-respect that I can graciously ask for and receive help without diminishing either. But getting back even a tiny little bit of that old independence was like reaching the exhilarating soar after an arduous long striving.
We took the scenic route back to the station, doing some good sidewalk work that was a bit of an obstacle course in places, and testing Pat on his intelligent disobedience with some traffic checks.
Traffic checks — teaching the dog to refuse a command that will take dog and person into traffic danger — is part of every guide dog’s training. Any guide dog handler who still has a problem trusting the dog after going through an effective traffic check probably will never be able to trust the dog enough to really be a good team.
I remember Trace stopping me from walking in front of a car that came out of nowhere while we were in training. In reality it was one of our trainers driving out of a parking lot that I had no idea was there. (We guide dog users had no clue when these traffic checks were going to happen.) Trace just stopped dead, so abruptly that I almost lost hold of the harness handle. He’s so stocky, it was like he turned into a huge anvil. I couldn’t budge him and I actually tried to hup him up. Then the trainer drove back into the parking lot driveway and told me what had just happened. Trace still would not move until the trainer drove off and left the driveway clear.
April practically body-slammed me once when we were zipping along and one of the trainers suddenly backed out of a driveway. After that we were both a lot more careful about driveways, and at home, even after we developed the bad habit of simply pausing at the curbs rather than coming to a full stop, April never failed to significantly slow down and come to a full stop whenever we approached a car idling in a driveway.
The traffic checks we did today with Pat were a little different. Instead of arranging for a car to suddenly drive out in front of us while we were in motion, we were stopped at the down-curb of a crosswalk. Steve would look for oncoming traffic and tap me on the shoulder to let me know I should tell Pat “Forward!” If there really was oncoming traffic, Pat simply stayed put and didn’t move.
I like this. When you have lousy hearing and do not have directional hearing, knowing that your dog’s got your back when you miscalculate the traffic is a very, very good feeling.
Steve took some more pictures of Pat and me, including one that will work well for the Guide Dog Foundation identification card I’ll be getting. Legally I cannot be required to show any certification or special identification for my guide dog or myself as a guide dog user to gain access to a public place, but I like having that ID card. I have no problem waving it if I think it will help convince a reluctant restaurant to let me in with my dog or otherwise resolve an access dispute anywhere I have a legal right to be with my guide dog.
Tomorrow we’ll be working outside more again. I want a route to Masulo’s, one of my fave little restaurants down Riverside where I often lunch with friends. And we’ll go to my Lions Club breakfast meeting. I really wish they’d meet at a more civilized hour than 7 a.m. — I did enough of those breakfast meetings in my previous working life to suffice for three more reincarnations, but oh well. I want to fist-target Pat to the door of the coffee shop where we meet and get me back to our meeting room. That way I’ll be able to get in and out of those meetings on my own.
The sweet splendor of that exhilarating soar, you know!
Bad news: Steve’s starting to cough and feel off. :-(
So today we did Amtrak. The Sacramento train station terminal has changed, so it was new to me as well as Pat. It may take a couple more times before we really have it down so we can make smooth approaches to the ticket counter and then over to the Assistance bench. When I am traveling by myself (except for Pat, that is) I will still always ask for assistance to get out to the correct track. But when we come back into Sacramento, we’ll be able to make it back into the terminal on our own. At least, we will when we’re taking the Capitol Corridor trains between Sacramento and the Bay Area. The approach back to the terminal is probably different for other routes. I was pleasantly surprised at how easy getting from the train back to the terminal was with Pat guiding me (and Steve walking behind, making sure we “stayed on track,” so to speak).
When I traveled on Amtrak with Trace, the path between the terminal and the tracks was usually “under construction” and changed so often it was better just to wait for assistance. And when I traveled with April before all the remodeling started, it was a simple straight shot on a well-marked path from the terminal out to the Amtrak trains. Now there is a circuitous walkway that tunnels under the tracks and brings you back up to the train platforms. Safer, but a much longer and very convoluted trek.
Pat is good about climbing into those golf-cart style trams and staying steady for the ride. (Note to myself: remember to ask the driver which side we’ll be getting out on, so I can work Pat in to face the getting-off side. That way he can just step out, and I don’t have to back him up or have him get up on the seat on order to turn around to get out.)
We only went as far as Davis — just sixteen bucks roundtrip and fifteen minutes away, over the Sacramento River and Yolo Bypass into downtown Davis. We had about 90 minutes to hang out before the return train, so we found a pub nearby for lunch. It was absolutely lovely being able to say, “Pat, find the door!” and walk in without having to hang on to anyone’s arm, and then to stand up after we’d finished, and simply tell Pat to “Find the door!” again. It may seem like a little thing, but being able to get in and out of a building on your own power, smoothly and quietly, without clacking and tapping the cane into things so you don’t have to bump into them yourself, is huge. I can’t even begin to describe how huge. I know I’m lucky I’ve got Andy and great friends always happy to give me an arm, and I am utterly absolutely grateful for that. And I think it’s fair to say I have a healthy enough sense of self-esteem and self-respect that I can graciously ask for and receive help without diminishing either. But getting back even a tiny little bit of that old independence was like reaching the exhilarating soar after an arduous long striving.
We took the scenic route back to the station, doing some good sidewalk work that was a bit of an obstacle course in places, and testing Pat on his intelligent disobedience with some traffic checks.
Traffic checks — teaching the dog to refuse a command that will take dog and person into traffic danger — is part of every guide dog’s training. Any guide dog handler who still has a problem trusting the dog after going through an effective traffic check probably will never be able to trust the dog enough to really be a good team.
I remember Trace stopping me from walking in front of a car that came out of nowhere while we were in training. In reality it was one of our trainers driving out of a parking lot that I had no idea was there. (We guide dog users had no clue when these traffic checks were going to happen.) Trace just stopped dead, so abruptly that I almost lost hold of the harness handle. He’s so stocky, it was like he turned into a huge anvil. I couldn’t budge him and I actually tried to hup him up. Then the trainer drove back into the parking lot driveway and told me what had just happened. Trace still would not move until the trainer drove off and left the driveway clear.
April practically body-slammed me once when we were zipping along and one of the trainers suddenly backed out of a driveway. After that we were both a lot more careful about driveways, and at home, even after we developed the bad habit of simply pausing at the curbs rather than coming to a full stop, April never failed to significantly slow down and come to a full stop whenever we approached a car idling in a driveway.
The traffic checks we did today with Pat were a little different. Instead of arranging for a car to suddenly drive out in front of us while we were in motion, we were stopped at the down-curb of a crosswalk. Steve would look for oncoming traffic and tap me on the shoulder to let me know I should tell Pat “Forward!” If there really was oncoming traffic, Pat simply stayed put and didn’t move.
I like this. When you have lousy hearing and do not have directional hearing, knowing that your dog’s got your back when you miscalculate the traffic is a very, very good feeling.
Steve took some more pictures of Pat and me, including one that will work well for the Guide Dog Foundation identification card I’ll be getting. Legally I cannot be required to show any certification or special identification for my guide dog or myself as a guide dog user to gain access to a public place, but I like having that ID card. I have no problem waving it if I think it will help convince a reluctant restaurant to let me in with my dog or otherwise resolve an access dispute anywhere I have a legal right to be with my guide dog.
Tomorrow we’ll be working outside more again. I want a route to Masulo’s, one of my fave little restaurants down Riverside where I often lunch with friends. And we’ll go to my Lions Club breakfast meeting. I really wish they’d meet at a more civilized hour than 7 a.m. — I did enough of those breakfast meetings in my previous working life to suffice for three more reincarnations, but oh well. I want to fist-target Pat to the door of the coffee shop where we meet and get me back to our meeting room. That way I’ll be able to get in and out of those meetings on my own.
The sweet splendor of that exhilarating soar, you know!
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