mom update

Car accident... Mom hurt... 3 broken ribs... Brain bleed...
Airlifting to Akron General...

These are some of the scariest phrases I've heard in my life.
I'm 38 years old now. On that horrible night three weeks ago, I
realized for the first time that my mother isn't Superwoman. She
can be hurt... And if things had been just a little different,
she could have died.

It has been hard watching my mother go through this ordeal. I
would do anything to take away her pain, but I can't. I must
believe that with time, she will fully recover and life will
return to normal.

Mom spent 10 days in the hospital. Because of the broken ribs,
bruised lung and COPD, she was having serious breathing episodes.
Although she had a lump on her head the size of two golf balls,
the brain bleed was small and stopped on it's own. I am so
thankful for that.

I visited her in the hospital five days after the accident. She
was obviously not doing well. I had trouble understanding her
fingerspelling. Her hands were so weak she couldn't properly
form the letters.

Even at that time, they said she'd be going home soon. The days
dragged on, but she still wasn't released. One day she was all
ready to leave. She called my father to pick her up. By the
time he got there, it was decided she had to stay another night.
The doctor wanted a new scan of her brain. It took awhile to
get the results back.

The next day her blood sugar was high because of medication.
They gave her insulin - too much, too fast. Her blood sugar
plumaged to 30. She nearly crashed. The incident left her
feeling weak, dizzy and scared.

We were all thinking the same thing. We had to get her out of
there before the hospital staff killed her.

On the 10th day, Mom was ready to break out of prison. My father
had to rush to the hospital to keep her calm. She was highly
anxious. If she had a panic attack, it would cause a breathing
episode, and she'd have to stay even longer.

Luckily, she was finally released from the hospital. The drive
home was painful and traumatic for her. It took 20 minutes to
get her from the car into our house. She was shaky and weak.
She couldn't talk to me, but just wanted to hold my hand.

The oxygen man came here right away to get that set up. Yes, Mom
is still on oxygen. There are lines running all over the house.
She's afraid I'll trip, but I've been fine with it.

Some people think it's over when the injured or sick are released
from the hospital. There's no truth to that one. But now all
the pressure is on the family to provide care and figure
everything out.

What upset me is that they just sent Mom home and let us deal
with her care. They didn't give her pain medication to help
with the ride home. My father needed to go to the pharmacy for
her meds, but he couldn't leave her alone. Then CVS kept making
mistakes. He didn't need all that extra stress.

It was almost a week before home care and rehab services were set
up. What happened in the mean time? My mother lay suffering
on the couch, while my father went crazy trying to care for her
and hold the family together.

Joseph still had activities to attend. I had class, massage
therapy and other events. We were out two drivers. Mom
obviously couldn't drive. and Dad couldn't leave the house. I
canceled many of my plans, but that made Mom really angry, which
would provoke a panic attack and breathing trouble.

Thank God for the many people who came to our aid. They provided
rides for Joseph and I. Some sat with Mom so that Dad could go
out for meds, groceries and other things. Many people sent
flowers and food baskets, as well as cards. The most helpful was
those who sent food. We didn't need to worry about cooking. We
always had something to just heat up and eat. Friends are still
sending meals. That is simply wonderful.

At this point, Mom is still on the couch. PT and OT have been
working with her to regain some strength. They got her started
with a walker. It was a beautiful moment last week when she
walked to the kitchen and had dinner with us for the first time.
She's been doing that most days.

One night this week, she just stood up and came to dinner. She
completely forgot about the walker. Now she's been walking on
her own more.

At this time, she is getting PT, OT, a visiting nurse and
clean-up each twice a week. They tire her out, so she doesn't do
much physically the rest of the day. She's getting uncomfortable
on the couch, so this week PT will start her working on the
stairs. That will be a tough one. She doesn't want to go up,
just to be trapped with no way to get down.

For every good day, there are several bad days. She's still so
weak, tired and in pain. Sometimes she's confused and easily
upset. Other times, she's her same old self.

My mother has already proven that she's an extremely strong
woman. She will get through this. I know it for sure. Thanks
you for all your prayers and well wishes.

what is it?

This is the poem I recited for my midterm exam. I like this one
because it expresses a darker view of how it feels to be
deaf-blind and physically impaired. I am unable to see how
people react to me. But the author of this poem has enough
vision to see the looks of horror, shock and dismay from people
passing by. He's even seen a mother grab her children and pull
them away to safety. How would that make you feel?

CopyRight 2010 by Scott M. Stoffel

What Is It?
By Scott Stoffel
 
What is it? What is it?
That thing with three legs,
lurching and tottering along?
What grave spat it up,
as if Death rejected it, too?

The living watch it suspiciously,
never letting the children out of their sight.
Greetings mumbled or shouted
glean no reply
from the approaching abomination.

Its eyes see little
but dart like the eyes of evil,
full of malice and ,mischief, no doubt.

Guard yourself,
draw back,
lest you be poisoned!

A  bold soul might step forward,
dare he even touch the thing!
Egad! That gained its notice!

A single eye ablaze swings about
to bear like a Howitzer upon him.
Stay 'way from it! Stay 'way!

Perhaps his greeting was kind enough,
but the thing's face speaks of war,
the one eye bidding him withdraw
to the ranks of the glorious living,
while the other uselessly withers the daffodils to his right.

No word comes from it,
the usual explanation having been exhausted long ago.

Neither can cross the line
between the living and the dead.
In silent fury, it staggers on,
hideous in gait,
but large enough to evoke caution.

What is it? What is it?
What a horrid thing,
belched from the guts of Hell.
   

guess that's what we do - me too

This poem was written just for me. The author is my Ohio
Deaf-Blind Outreach specialist.

Guess That's what We Do - Me Too

by Judy knisely

It's my first day

KSU - who knew

I would make it this far

My dreams are big

I want to succeed

Be all that I can be

Show up early

Everyone sits in the hall

Guess that's what we do

Me too

Time is getting close

Almost time for my first class

I'm so nervous

Where will I sit, how should I act

I hear a tap tap tap and look around

Then I spot her all the way down

By the bench she uses two canes

I don't understand

I have never seen such a thing

One for support and the other for seeing?

Here she comes down the hall

What do I do

I'm afraid she might fall

All of the students

They just stay where they are

Guess that's what we do

Me too

Now that I know and understand

I am ashamed of who I am

One of the students that didn't move

What can I do to make it up to you?

Parta complaint

Dear PARTA,

I rely on PARTA to take me to Satterfield Hall twice a week so
I can attend one class. I am deaf-blind and physically impaired.
I am also a single mother. Lately, the service I've been getting
from PARTA is less than ideal.

On January 9th, the driver took me to the wrong doorway. I was
unable to find my way around. This led to two students grabbing
my arms and pulling me around. I would not have been put in
that situation if the driver took me where I'm supposed to
go.

On February 6th, the driver again took me to the wrong door. I
walked around in circles until I finally had to call out for
someone to help me.

Also on February 6th, I was picked up from Kent State at 2:15.
I live less than 10 minutes away from campus. I was on the bus
for over an hour. I finally got home at 3:20. I barely made it
home before my 10 year-old-son.

On February 8th, my pick-up time was 2:15 to 2:45. PARTA did not
arrive until 3:20. I was frantic to find someone to meet my son
at home.

On February 15, the same situation happened. Once again, PARTA
picked me up at 3:20

I want to express the importance of drivers taking me to the
correct door - Satterfield hall, East Entrance. I have been
trained to find my way around and locate my classroom. To
succeed at this, I must begin at the correct starting place. If
a driver drops me off at a different doorway, I will not be able
to get around. This creates an unsafe and frustrating situation.

Please look into these incidents. Your website says that PARTA
does not discriminate based on disability. That doesn't seem to
be true in my case.

Sincerely,

Angela C. Orlando

jean-claude, oh, my love

Jean-Claude, Oh, My Love

Jean-Claude, oh, my love --
I hold him tightly, all night long.
With tender embraces, soft kisses and loving caresses,
Our bodies pressed together with passionate hunger,
Oh, how I love Jean-Claude.

The best thing about Jean-Claude is that he doesn't really
exist.
I'm fed up with men who just want to use and hurt me.
I'm sick of those who only want me for my body.
They act as if they own me - grabbing and clutching at my flesh.
Enough! I don't want it anymore.

Jean-Claude visits me as words in the pages of a book.
He is what my imagination makes him.
He comes when I call and leaves when I am through.
He entertains me in my dreams.
We spend the night together, as I read to my heart's content.

Jean-Claude is a vampire.
He's a creature of the dark, so sensual and full of evil desire.
His skin is flawless in its pale, white splendor.
His hair falls to his shoulders in long, black curls.
His eyes are midnight blue.
Beware the powers that lurk in his dangerous gaze.

As he wraps his strong arms around my body, he whispers French
endearments in my ear.
His voice is like silk chocolate.
He can make my spine tingle with just that sweet voice of his.
"Ma Petite, let us indulge in our most intimate pleasures..."

I will pick up that book tonight.
Under the bright moonlight, he will be mine again.
Our lust will consume me for another chapter or two.
Jean-Claude, oh, my love.

April, 2011

the accident

On Tuesday, January 31st, something terrible happened. Joseph
had an away basketball game. My mother and father went with him,
but I stayed home to write a poem for class.

I turned off my cell phone so I would not be distracted. I was
totally absorbed in my writing. It wasn't until I finished, that
I realized something was wrong.

I checked the time. It was past 10:00. Even for an away game,
they should have been home much earlier.

I turned on my cell phone and checked text messages. I found a
message from my father with the words no one ever wants to hear
or read: We were in an accident.

My father assured me that Joseph was fine, but Mom was injured.
They were at our local hospital waiting for her to have a CT
scan.

My heart was pounding. My head was spinning. I was terrified
and felt so helpless.

Now let me describe some details I found out later. Imagine two
vans. My father was driving 40 mph. The other woman was doing
50 mph. It's not clear who had the green light.

The other van hit near the front passenger side, a bit at an
angle. Her car flipped. Our van spun. Both vehicles were
totaled. There were car parts all over the scene and leaking
gas.

This happened in Ravenna, not far from Robinson Memorial
Hospital. Two nurses were driving home or going to work. They
were the first on the scene. They got Joseph out of the car and
helped the other woman, who was trapped upside down.

Everyone sat in a line, as far away from the leaking vehicles
as possible. The smell of gas was strong on the air.

The other woman was heavily bleeding. My mother took the worst
of the impact. She had a lump on her head the size of two golf
balls and her side hurt.

Chaos descended upon the scene in the form of fire trucks,
ambulances and police cars. My mother and the other woman were
taken to the hospital in ambulances. Joseph and my father rode
in the back of a police car.

At the hospital, Mom was in pain but seemed okay. She was joking
around. Maybe she was being brave for Joseph's sake. The whole
experience was quite traumatic for him, and he was scared by all
the people and things he saw at the ER.

They were about to release my mother, when the CT scan results
came in. She had three fractured ribs and a brain bleed. She
was imitatively airlifted to Akron General Hospital.

My brother drove Dad and Joseph home. After a quick meal, he
took Dad to Akron. I stayed home with Joseph.

All I wanted to do was hug and touch him. Horrible thoughts ran
through my head. He could have been hurt or even killed.... My
precious son was in a life threatening accident. Thank God he
was okay.

Joseph had a small scratch on his neck, sore neck muscles and
a large bruise on his thigh. He was more in shock from the
emotional trauma. Although it was late, he wasn't ready to
sleep. I stayed with him until 1:30 in the morning, when his
mind finally calmed down some.

My mother was taken to Trauma ICU. She was in pain and wanted to
sleep. But because of the concussion, they had to keep waking
her up. It was a major relief when the doctor announced that
the bleeding in her brain had stopped on it's own. She would not
need surgery.

The serious issues has been her lungs and breathing. She
already had lung problems from COPD. The broken ribs added
bruising and swelling near her lungs. This is making it much
harder for her to breathe.

On Friday, they were going to move her out of ICU. Before they
could, Mom had a breathing episode. Then ended up putting her on
forced oxygen.

She was doing better on Saturday and was moved to Trauma
Step-down. I went to visit her on Sunday. She was so weak,
tired and obviously in pain. I could barely understand her
because she was too weak to properly form and sign alphabet
letters.

This is my mother we are talking about! It was so hard to see
her like that.

The doctor said she'd be coming home soon. But today she had
another bad day with her breathing. We have no clue when she'll
be released.

My father has been spending much time at the hospital. I stay
home to take care of Joseph, the dogs and manage things around
the house. I went grocery shopping for the first time in 10
years.

We are thankful to all the people who have offered prayers and
support. Local friends have been wonderful. Some have taken
Joseph and given him rides so he won't miss any of his
activities. Others have brought food, so we don't have to worry
cooking. Their kindness has made a big difference in our ability
to cope with this crisis.

I am frightened for my mother. I want her to get better and come
home. Will our lives ever be normal again?

why does it have to be so hard?

Why does it have to be so hard? All I want to do is attend one
class - two sessions per week. I love being in school and
learning how to improve my writing skills.. It should be
simple, but it's not.

For the second time during this first month of the semester,
PARTA took me to the wrong doors. I figured it out pretty quick
and even knew where I was. But because of the renovations, I
couldn't manage to get where I needed to be. I kept running into
an obstacle that shouldn't have been there.

After doing three circles, I finally realized I needed help. I
called out, "Can anyone please help me?"

The funny thing is that I was right outside the office of
Modern and Classical Languages. That includes ASL. Three
signers ran out to assist me. It's great having a helper who can
actually speak my language.

I made it upstairs by myself and had a wonderful class. I went
back to the first floor and walked down the hall. I was almost
at my destination when things got screwy again.

Because of the changes, I can no longer recognized when I'm at
the end of the last bench, closest to the doors. So, what I do
is to walk all the way to the doors, step to the side then
backtrack to the bench. It's not far, and by doing this, I can
confirm that I'm sitting in the right location.

Today, I was just moving away from the door when someone grabbed
me. I said I was going to sit on the bench, but the person kept
pulling me out the doors. He left me standing outside.

Rolling my eyes in utter annoyance, I went back inside. I was
once again moving toward the bench, when someone lightly touched
my arm. I didn't need the help, but I decided to just go with
it. I told the girl I was looking for the bench. She gently
guided me there, and I sat down.

That should have been the end of it, but PARTA wasn't done with
me. It takes less than ten minutes to drive from KSu to my
house. They decided to take the long way home. I got on the
bus at 2:15. I finally got home at 3:20.

I just want to go to class and be as independent as possible.
It's ridiculous what I'm forced to deal with. I swear the next
time someone grabs or pulls me, I am going to SCREAM!

an apology

An Open Apology
To the Students of Satterfield Hall

by Angela C. Orlando

You sit on a bench
on the first floor
waiting for class to start

It's early
You read the paper
no clue of the danger you're in

You hear it first
Thunk, thunk, thunk
And confusedly peer down the hall

You finally see me
Your eyes widen in shock
All you can do is stare
You watch
As I approach
nearer and nearer

I lurch forward
with a forearm crutch
Waving a long white cane

You recognize me
As blind and crippled
And gawk as I stagger about

You're out of time
To make an escape
Doom is upon you now

I swing my cane

Against soft flesh
Making you wince in pain

I apologize
to you
nameless student
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't know you were there

Until my cane attacked you

And to you
Impatient student
Who slowly follows behind me

You're late for class
You need to rush
This pace won't work for you

You see a chance
To break ahead
And speed away from me

I swing my cane
Hitting your leg
And you topple to the ground

I apologize
To you
Hurried student

I didn't mean to trip you
I didn't know you were there
Until my cane attacked you

To all of you
Who've felt the wrath
Of my long white cane

I apologize
I'm truly sorry
But what else could I do?

I'm a student
Just like you
I need to get around

So if I hit you
Or make you fall
Please try to understand

Pull up your legs
Don't try to pass
The choice is up to you
In the end
No matter what
I apologize to you

January, 2012

fruit salad

Fruit Salad

by Angela C. Orlando

I'm going to make fruit salad.
I take out two grapefruit, three oranges and a bunch of grapes.
I grab a long, shiny knife and pick up a plump grapefruit.
I place the grapefruit on the cutting board and begin to slice.

The tangy citrus scent reaches my nostrils, while a scream of
pain escapes my lips.
I drop the knife in horror.
My thumb feels like it's on fire.
I wildly jerk my hand around, trying to shake away the sting.
Crimson drops of blood splatter on the cabinets and countertop.
I realize this is not a little cut.
I fumble for a paper towel and yell for help.

An hour later, the crisis is over.
My thumb is bandaged.
The kitchen has been cleaned.
On the counter, sits one bloody grapefruit, as if testament to my
stupidity.
There will be no fruit salad tonight.

January, 2012

a piece of your heart

A Piece of Your Heart

by Angela C. Orlando

What am I to do
As you stand before me
My dearest friend
And say that you are leaving?

You, who showed me the world
Who took me on adventures
Who opened my eyes
To a different sort of life.

You, who made me feel almost normal
Who shared in my dreams
And celebrated my triumphs

Who was always there
When I was in need.

Now you are leaving
My heart is aching
Like a giant chunk
Has been ripped away.

I want to cry
And say please don't leave
But I know your situation
And I know you must go.

You tell me this isn't the end
We will still be friends
We will see each other again
I want to believe you.

You give me a necklace
In the shape of two hearts
Made of heavy metal
That feels warm against my chest.

With a sense of endearment
I know it's true
You have given me
A piece of your heart.

Goodbye, Amy Marshall
I will always hold you close
In my heart and memories
With never a doubt
That I am a better person
For having known you, my friend.

January, 2012

A message from me

Dear loyal followers,

I want to thank you for all your support and kindness. I come
from a past where I was made to fell that I was stupid. I wanted
to write but had no confidence in myself or my abilities. You
have all helped me grow as a writer. I now know that I can do
this, and I'm so happy to be doing it.

I have a few things I want to talk about. First of all, to
Melissa or anyone else, it is okay to share or re-post my blogs
and poems. Just be sure to credit me by name and include my blog
website. It's also fine if you want to link up to me.

Some people have mentioned that they can't seem to post a comment
on my blog site. That's not true. You can write a comment, but
it won't be posted until it's approved. I have some
inaccessibility issues with blogspot, so my friend checks
comments for me. Sometimes it takes awhile before the comment
is posted. I am sorry for that. I do this to weed out spam,
advertisements and other inappropriate comments.

In regards to my poetry, I realize there is no way to please
everyone. Some people simply will not like certain poems that I
write. That's fine.

It's true that poetry is a tricky form of art. Two people can
read the same poem and come away with totally opposite meanings.
They may not grasp the author's meaning, but still find
something in that poem that speaks to them. That's what I love
about poetry.

With most poetry, you can't ask the author to explain the
underlying meaning of their work. How I Wish I could have a
long discussion with William Shakespeare and ask him to explain
just about everything he ever wrote.

You don't have that issue with me. I'm here. I can answer
questions and discuss my w. When in doubt, please ask before
getting angry. I have added a contact button to this site. So,
you can now write to me via private email if you like.

I admit that I wrote a poem that may seem offensive to people who
are overweight. That was never my intention. Let me explain
about that poem.

The assignment was to write a short, descriptive poem that would
leave the reader with a clear mental picture. I called this
poem "Wedding Night." I do believe I succeeded in meeting the
requirements of the assignment.

That's not where it ends. I decided to go further with this
poem. It actually has multiple meanings. What the words say
aren't exactly what the poem means. You have to look deeper than
that. It helps if you know my background.

This poem really wasn't about my wedding night. Shame on me, but
I already had sex with my husband before we got married. In
fact, for reasons I won't explain here, we didn't do "it" on our
wedding night.

My husband weighed 250 pounds when we met, 300 pounds when we
married and 350 when we got divorced. If I had issues with
people who are overweight, why would I have married him in the
first place? The weight never mattered to me. I loved him the
way he was. I just worried about the health implications of his
obesity.

In the early days, when we actually made love, he was gentle and
took care to keep his full weight off of me. By the end, he
didn't care. It was just sex. He would say, "Are we gonna
fxxxx?"

I was nothing to him except a vagina and pair of breasts. (But
those aren't the words he used.) This is the man who tweaked my
nipples in public. This is the man who put his bare penis in my
hand when I was expecting him to communicate using tactile
fingerspelling.

By that point, he would drop every bit of his weight on top of
me. He'd bang and shove and push like I was a rag doll instead
of a living person. He didn't care if he hurt me. When it was
over, he'd fall upon me with no holding back. I did feel like he
was crushing me. I did feel like my ribs would break.
sometimes he fell over my face, and I wouldn't be able to
breathe.

He'd stay there until he was ready to get up. Then he'd turn
away or leave the room, as if I no longer existed... like
throwing out yesterday's newspaper.

"Wedding Night" is not about having sex with an overweight man.
It's about being trapped for years in an abusive marriage,
fearing there was no way out except death. Look at it again,
but read "abuse" each time you see the word "fat." You'll
understand better then.

If you still find the poem offensive, I am sorry. Like I said,
It's impossible to please everyone. That poem came from deep
within my heart. That's all I have left to say about it.

primary colors

Primary Colors

by Angela C. Orlando

There once was a world in which everybody was red. All the men
and women were red. The boys and girls were red. Even the dogs
and cat were red.

But for some reason that no one ever understood, sometimes a
red mother would give birth to a blue baby.

The people of the red world did not know what to do with these
blue babies. Obviously, they couldn't grow up among the red.
They were much too different. So they were sent away to a
special land just for blue people. There these children would
live among their own kind, have their own blue language and
their own blue culture.

Some red mothers just couldn't bear to part from their blue
babies. The mothers loved their babies and wanted to keep them
close. After all, these mothers didn't ask to be hosts for a
new race. The blue babies were their offsprings, their flesh
and blood. Why couldn't people learn to accept blue babies
and treat them the same as everyone else?

It just didn't work that way. These children were NOT like
everyone else. They were blue, while everyone else was red.
That's a difference that can't be ignored.

So doctors invented a great new medicine that would turn blue
babies into red babies. The mothers and fathers were so excited.
Finally, their blue children could be normal!

This, too, was not so successful. Instead of becoming red, the
medicine turned those blue babies yellow. Now these children
were rejected by both the red and the blue. They weren't red
enough to be accepted by the main culture, and they weren't
blue so they couldn't be part of that group. There wasn't even
a special land for them to find peace in a yellow world. They
were different no matter where they went. They always would
be. Oh, those poor yellow babies!

Why do we have to live in a world of primary colors? It must be
all or nothing... red or blue. There's no in between.

If only we could mix and blend. Then we would get the beauty of
the blue, the voice of the red and the strength of the yellow.

Red, blue and yellow. Orange, green and purple. A rainbow of
colors. A world of acceptance and understanding. A place where
all can belong. That is my colorful dream.

Revised August, 2011

like any other mother

Like Any Other Mother

by Angela C. Orlando

I'm a mother. I happen to be deaf-blind, too. Are the two facts
related? Not really. Being a deaf-blind mother is like being
any other mother. I'll show you.

A "typical" mother wakes up at 4:00 am when her son enters the
bedroom. She responds to the light being turned on or her
child's voice say, "Mommy. Mommy."

I don't see the light and I don't hear the voice. Instead, I
feel small hands shaking me awake. Then fingers touch my hands
and spell out, "My tummy hurts and I can't sleep."

A typical mother invites her son to join her in bed. She tries
to console him and lull him back to sleep. That's also what I
do.

His stomach hurts bad and he can't fall back asleep. So the
typical mother gets up and tries to distract him from his pain.
That's what I do, too.

He wants to play his favorite game on the computer. So the
typical mother gets her computer ready for him, even though it's
only 5:30 in the morning. That's what I do. But my computer has
a braille display and screen reader. Once I find the right web
site, I turn on the monitor and give him the mouse so he can
play his game.

His stomach hurts and he can't concentrate on the game. He
decides to watch TV, instead. A typical mother may have a TV in
her room. I don't. So I go downstairs with him. I sit beside
him on the couch while he watches cartoons.

A typical mother is worried about her son. Could it be
Appendicitis? She's not sure and decides to do a Google search
to look up the symptoms.

I decide to do a Google search on my Braille Note to look up the
symptoms. The internet program is limited. Many web sites are
inaccessible. My first four attempts lock up the machine.
Finally, I am able to access the fifth site and learn the
symptoms of Appendicitis. I decide he probably doesn't have
Appendicitis but I will watch him closely over the next several
hours.

A typical mother makes toast and juice for her sick child's
breakfast. I make toast and juice for my sick child's breakfast.

He doesn't eat and his stomach still hurts. A typical mother
decides to keep her son home from school. She calls the school
to let them know that he will not be there.

I decide not to send my son to school. I call the school using
my Deaf-Blind Communicator TTY to let them know he will not be
there.

A typical mother calls in sick at work or cancels her activities
so she can stay home with her son. I don't work. I cancel my
physical therapy session so I can stay home with my son.

And so, the similarities go on. I am a mother and I happen to be
deaf-blind. Some people would say I'm not a typical mother. I
disagree. It seems to me that I am like any other mother.

holy cow!

Do you remember this old joke?

How do you punish Helen Keller?
Rearrange the furniture

Cruel, but true.

I had my father take me to the Languages building today so I
could practice walking to my classroom and back. What I
discovered totally shocked me. It seems that in the year I was
gone, the university was doing some renovations in that building.
Perhaps it was foolish of me to think the place would be exactly
the same. Still, I never imagined such dramatic changes.

To start with, there are now double doors. The reason I felt
boxed in with no way out is because I was. I now need to find
and open the second door to get into the building. There's no
direct path I can use to move from one set to the other set of
doors. So I take the long way around and follow the wall,
staircase, radiator and newspaper stand.

This doesn't let PARTA off the hook. I walked all around the
entrance yesterday and all around the one today. It was NOT the
same. PARTA definitely dropped me off at the wrong location.

Once out into the hall, I met with another surprise. The benches
are all still there. But now they added these counter like
things against empty walls. I guess it's for students to stand
against and read the paper or something. I don't know. What it
means is that they took away all the blank wall I used to follow.
Now I'm away from the wall the whole way. It's even worse when
students are around. I'm being forced to walk too far into the
middle of a crowded hall way.

Without the walls, I miss my landmarks. Bulletin boards, signs,
corners and more... It all gave me clues to my location.

Now I don't have any warning that I'm approaching the other set
of doors that are parallel to the wall. Someone opened the door
from the outside. I didn't noticed my path was moving. I
followed the door line straight into the metal frame. Don't
worry. It was only my face that I hit.

I still had trouble with the elevator buttons. Those who invent
"universal design" just don't understand about braille. Sure, I
know the buttons need to be low for people in wheelchairs. But
that makes the braille too low to be read by people who are
blind.

The third floor looked the same at first. I made it to the
classrooms. I was struggling to remember how many doors I need
to pass to get to room 315. I stopped and asked my dad if I was
right. He took my hand and placed it on a braille sign. I was
wrong... But, oh, how cool! They added braille signs on all the
classroom doors. That will make things so much easier!

I crossed the hall to start my trek back. Kaboom! I banged
into a bench. Those are new on the third floor. As I got
further away from the classrooms, things got stranger. The wall
disappeared. I felt a line of carpet. Beyond that, I found
chairs and couches. I didn't make a mistake yesterday. They
just changed everything! Once again, my walls and landmarks are
gone. I no longer know when to cross the hall to get to the
elevator.

Well, Kent State unknowingly decided to make my life harder.
PARTA and a couple of wacky girls aren't helping. Yet, I'm
still me and that means I won't give up. We'll see how I do
tomorrow.

First day of school

Today was the first day of the Spring Semester at Kent State
University. There I was among the masses of students returning
to class. For me, this was a major come-back. After over a
year on medical leave, I never thought I'd return to school.
Massive pain can do that to you.

I'm happy to report that I am feeling much better now.
Sometimes it really does just take time. Firing your doctors and
going into alternative treatment can help, too.

The point is -- Today was the first day of school. I was
psyched. But as the bus ride continued, I began to have
doubts. It's been so long since I travelled through the
Languages building on my own. What if the mats were gone and I
couldn't find my way to the wall? What if the bulletin boards
were moved and I missed my landmarks? What if PARTA dropped me
off at the wrong door?

The first two worries were small matters. If the third
happened, I'd be screwed. So, naturally, that's exactly what
happened. PARTA took me to the wrong door, and I was lost from
the start.

It seemed like I was stuck in an area with only the doors and a
set of stairs. I walked around and around, but I couldn't find a
way out. I was thinking, "Back in school and here we are
again.!"

Suddenly, someone roughly grabbed me by the arm. I said I was
trying to find the elevator. The girl began to pull me forward.
She kept speaking, but I didn't know what she was saying. I told
her I was deaf-blind and explained how she could talking to me by
printing letters on my hand. She just kept pulling.

The next thing I know, she had pushed me into a comfortable
chair. I didn't know what to do. Was she leaving me here?
Where was I? Should I call out for help? I decided to just sit
back and wait. I needed a few moments to calm down.

Then there were too of them grabbing at my arms and pulling me
back to my feet. I was tripping all over the place, with two
girls pulling me and two canes in my hands.

We reached the elevator, but they came too. I said I was going
to the third floor. They helped me out but didn't let go. I
finally pulled free and moved to the restroom. It felt so good
to be locked in a stall away from these crazy girls. Over-help
is just as bad as no help.

I thought I was free, but they got me again before I could leave
the bathroom They were still talking to me. I was still
explaining that I was deaf-blind, and they could print letters on
my hand. I kept saying, "Thank you, I'm fine from here." They
wouldn't let go.

Maybe I should have screamed or something. My mind was blanking.
This was the weirdest encounter I've ever had at KSU. I
explained I was going to room 315 and planned to sit on a bench
to wait until class time. They took me there and dropped me
onto a bench. At that moment, another deaf student and an
interpreter appeared. The wacky girls ran off. It was over.

Class was great. When it was time to leave, I was anxious to
head out on my own. I needed to prove to myself that I could
make this walk. After all, I used to do it all the time.

The benches on the third floor are new. I can navigate
around them, but it puts me a little bit away from the wall. I
can't feel for landmarks like I used to. When I hit a student
sitting there, I have to move even further away. Someone had a
whole bunch of crap on the floor. He or she must have been
sitting on the edge of a bench. When I moved around, I couldn't
find anything solid with my cane. I think I ended up in some
kind of lounge or office. I was trying to back track when my
interpreter found me. She guided me downstairs, and we sat and
talked while I waited for my bus.

I got home okay. The driver put my hand on the rail outside our
house, just like I asked. I told him I was fine, said thanks
and goodbye. I walked up the three steps, opened the door and
was half-way inside when he tapped me on the shoulder. I was
startled and it was a bad moment, I nearly fell in the doorway.

It's great to be back in class, but I'm not so sure about all
the people. If only I could zap the ones who annoy me. I know
they mean well, but they really do make it so much harder.

Okay, Wednesday will be take two. Maybe I'll have better luck
then... maybe.

Disclaimer: if you were my professor, a student in my class or
someone who could sign, you did nothing wrong today.

silent screams

Silent Screams

by Angela C. Orlando

The attack begins at 4:38 p..m. She runs to the bathroom in a
blind panic. She slams the door shut and falls to the floor.

Hot tears begin streaming down her face. She pulls at her hair,
wishing instead that she could rip out her soul. Her mouth
opens in a terrifying grimace of pain. No sound escapes her
throat -- Not a whimper nor a cry. She fights unsuccessfully for
control, as her body is wracked with silent screams.

It ends as abruptly as it started. She stands, pats down her
clothing and moves to the sink. She washes her face and fixes
her hair, erasing all signs of the unpleasant episode. She
walks with confidence into the kitchen and greets her husband.

"Hi honey," she says with a smile. "Dinner will be ready in half
an hour."

March 2011

Wedding Night

Wedding Night
September 25, 1999

by Angela C. Orlando

He comes to me, naked in his need.
It is our wedding night.
I must perform my wifely duty.
But, oh god, he is so fat.

He stands above me, 300 pounds of lust and desire.
Rolling hills of flesh hang off his body.
It looks like bags of hairy dough.
Oh god, he wants me.

He enters me and the dance begins.
Grinding, shoving, pushing, thrusting...
He is relentless.
I am the drug he uses in pursuit of ecstasy.
Oh god, will it ever stop?

I moan in pain and he thinks he's pleasing me.
Then his climax comes and he falls upon me--
Goliath crashing to the ground.
But the ground is me.
Oh god, if this is love, why does it hurt so much?

My ribs break.
I gasp for breath.
He is crushing the life out of me.
I think I may die.
My grave stone will read, "Beloved wife-- Killed by sex with a
fat man."

Revised August, 2011

An alternative christmas -- what if santa claus was deaf-blind?

An Alternative Christmas

What if Santa Claus was Deaf-Blind?

by Angela C. Orlando

Christmas is almost here. The air is full of joy and cheer.
Children await that magic night, when Santa will fly in his
enchanted sleigh. Then it's Christmas day... The most wonderful
day of the year.

Now imagine an alternative Christmas. What if Santa Claus was
deaf-blind? What would Christmas be like then?

*****

First you may be wondering -- How could a deaf-blind elf
become Santa Claus? Of course, it's not the type of work an elf
can apply for. It's more like royalty. Santa's eldest son was
born as Randy Claus. It was his destiny to follow in his
father's foot-steps. No one ever questioned that.

When Randy was only a tiny elf, Santa and his wife discovered
that he couldn't hear. They were saddened, indeed. But Santa
believed in his young son and encouraged him to grow up just like
any other elf.

Young Randy Claus learned sign language, as did his parents and
many other elf families. He found true acceptance in a
community that was willing to learn his language. He never felt
that he was different from the other elf children. Randy
couldn't hear, but he could do everything his friends did.

It's important to remember that the North Pole is a land in which
differences are celebrated. After all, Rudolph was born with
an unusual nose. Yet, he became the most famous reindeer of
them all.

Santa also encourage Randy to learn to speak and read lips. He
wanted to be sure that Randy could one day say "Ho, Ho, Ho" and
"Merry Christmas!"

Young Randy did quite well with his speech lessons. It helped
that he was still permitted to sign. He was not being denied one
language in favor of another. Instead, Randy would grow up as a
bilingual elf.

But he did complain to his father, "How am I ever supposed to
read your lips when they are completely covered by your long
beard and mustache?"

Santa just smiled and gave his son a hug. "I will always sign
to you, Randy. You won't miss a word I say."

*****

A horrible tragedy happened when Randy Claus was only 20
years-old. His father was attempting to train a spirited
young reindeer to serve as an alternate on his team.

Rudolph and Dasher were excused from practice, while Starburst
flew with the other reindeer. Santa called orders to Starburst,
but the new reindeer wouldn't listen. He crossed Dancer's path
and pulled the team off course. They crashed into Toy House B.

When the Rescue Elves arrived on the scene, they set their eyes
upon the most horrible site. The sleigh was twisted and wedged
against the floor. Santa was trapped underneath. Ruined toys
were thrown all about. Starburst and six elves were dead.
Three reindeer had broken legs. The others were gashed and
bleeding.

The Rescue Elves did everything they could. They managed to
save the reindeer team, but Santa was fatally injured, with
bicycle spokes jammed straight through his heart.

Randy dashed to his father's side. With tears streaming down his
face, poor Randy yelled into the silent night. "Please don't
die, Daddy! Please don't leave me!"

Santa tried to smile through his pain. He lifted his weak arms
and sign his last words. "I believe in you Randy. You can do
it!" And then he died.

*****

After a heartbreaking memorial, Randy was crowned as the new
Santa Claus. He would now take on his father's name, and that of
his grandfather and many elves before him.. This new Santa
Claus had much work to do. First, he had to see to the
repairs of Toy House B. New elves were assigned to replace the
injured and dead. They had to work overtime to replace all the
damaged toys.

Santa over saw the recovery of his reindeer. He made sure they
attended their physical therapy sessions. Reindeer games were
cancelled until all were well again.

Most importantly, he needed to work on himself. Randy Claus was
a young elf, tall and thin, with spiky white hair. Now he
needed to become Santa. He ate and ate, until his belly began
to bulged. And still he ate some more.

The old elf at the barber shop applied daily doses of magic hair
growth formula. Soon enough, Santa was plump and fat, a right
jolly old elf.

He practiced his "Ho, Ho, Ho" and "Merry Christmas!" His two
favorite elf girls were assigned as his interpreters. If Santa
couldn't understand a child's Christmas wish, Olive and Shan were
there to sign to him.

Finally, it was Santa's first Christmas. His reindeer team was
ready. Olive and Shan rode with him in the sleigh. Santa gave
a sharp whistle, and his team took off into the night. Against
all odd's, Christmas was perfect.

*****

Sadly enough, Santa would need to overcome more problems. He was
in his 30's when he began tripping over bundles of toys. Once,
he plow over a Messenger Elf. He found it hard to guide his
sleigh at night.

"What is going on?" the elves asked. "What is wrong with
Santa Claus?.

Olive and Shan decided to confront him. "Santa," said Olive,
"I see you squint when you read my signs."

Shan added, "You grab my hands when it's dark outside."

Santa didn't like where this was heading. He did not want to
have this conversation. He could not admit to what he knew was
true.

"I love you, Santa," Olive said, "And so do all the other elves."

"Plus all the human children in the world," said Shan.

"And most of the adults," Olive persisted. "You are Santa Claus.
You are Christmas. You must deal with this!"

With his new wife, Mrs. Claus, and Olive and Shan trailing
behind, Santa Claus finally went to see the Vision Elf. The
diagnosis was not good. "I'm sorry, Dear Santa Claus," said
the sweet Vision Elf. "You have a disease the humans call Usher
Syndrome. You will gradually lose your peripheral vision and
suffer from night blindness."

Santa began to weep. "I'm deaf!," he cried. "I can't be blind,
too. I just can't!"

*****

For many months, Santa secluded himself in his bedroom. Mrs.
Claus was the on elf allowed in. She tried to get him to eat,
but he refused. As his depression deepened, the Christmas
magic of the North Pole began to weakened.

Rumors of doom were passed along by elf to elf to reindeer.
"Christmas will be canceled.," they whispered.

Others speculated that Santa's younger brother would have to
take over. Never before had Santa Claus stepped down. But
obviously, this Santa was no longer fit for the job.

One day, Olive and Shan took a risky ride on Dasher's back. It
was only June. They weren't allowed into the human world during
the off season, but they had to find a way to help Santa Claus.

They rode through the night, using their diminishing magic to
find a most special child. At last, they found what they were
looking for in America. The little girls was thrilled to be
visited by two elves and a reindeer. Although they were
breaking even more rules, the elves invited her to the North
Pole.

*****

Little Amy Nicholas was only six years old. Like every young
girl, she loved baby dolls, pretty clothes and helping her
mother in the kitchen. Yet, she didn't speak in words. Her eyes
were cloudy white. She put her two small hands in front of
her and trudged out and about. Amy Nicholas was special because
she was deaf-blind.

Although Santa groaned and protested, he allowed Mrs. Claus to
pull him out to his favorite chair by the living room fire. He
didn't look much like Santa now. He was thin and gaunt,, with
tangled hair and a wild beard. He insisted on dressing in
black fur. He was moody and snapped at any elf who tried to
come near him. He certainly was no longer a jolly old elf.

Olive and Shan gently guide little Amy into the room. "What do
you want?," Santa bellowed, in his most angry voice.

Amy didn't react. She was smiling ear to ear in anticipation
of meeting Santa Claus."

Olive stood close to Santa, where the light was best. She began
to sign, "Santa Claus, we bring you a visitor."

Santa squinted and looked around. He could barely make out the
form of a small person standing beside Shan. He sniffed the air
and growled with fury. "A human?," he snarled. "You dare
to bring a human to the North Pole!"

Shan protectively placed her arms around Amy, while Olive
continued to sign to Santa.

"She is a special human child, Santa. It's greatly important
that you meet her."

Santa was still furious. "I w not meet a stinking human child!
Now go away!," he roared.

Amy began to tremble. Although she couldn't hear what Santa was
saying, she did pick up on the tension in the room.

Mrs. Claus tried to calm Santa. She kneeled in front of him and
signed, "Please, my Love, I do not ask much of you. But please
meet this little girl."

Even in his depressed state, Santa Claus truly loved his wife.
He could not ignore her pleading.

"Fine," he said, "Bring her here. Just keep her off my lap."

They brought a chair and placed it very close to Santa. Shan
added a large pillow and placed Amy onto the chair. Amy
imitatively reached out with her hands, as if to grab Santa.

"What is this?," Santa cried out. He pulled his arms away from
Amy.

"Let her touch you," Mrs. Claus said. "Look at her face, my
Dear."

Santa slowly lowered his arms and let Amy take his hands. He
looked closely at her face. The light was good, and he could see
her milky white eyes. He also noticed her huge smile and cute
little dimples.

Amy began moving her small hands under his big hands. Suddenly
he exclaimed in shock.

"Ho!," he yelled. "I felt her speak with my hands!"

She certainly was talking, although she never spoke out loud.
"My name is Amy," she said. "I love you, Santa Claus. Will you
be my friend?"

Santa was bewildered. He had no clue what to do.

"Sign into her hands, just like she did to you," Olive prompted.

Santa felt awkward, but he did as she said. "Hello, Amy. Have
you been a good little girl?"

Amy giggled, and Santa could see the glee on her face. "It's
only June," she signed, "I don't have to be good."
In spite of himself, Santa laughed. He began to understand
that Amy was deaf and blind. But some how she seemed so normal
and happy.

"You are different from other children, yet you feel joy and
love, as they do. How can that be?" Santa asked her.

"I am just me," Amy signed. "I'm happy because I want to be."

As Olive, Shan and Mrs. Claus watched, they saw Santa's eyes
fill with wonder. His cheeks regain their healthy pink glow.
Best of all, he was smiling and laughing.

"I know it's not Christmas yet," Amy said with her hands, "But I
do have a special wish."

Santa lifted her into his lap and gave her a hug. "It might not
be Christmas yet," he signed to her, "But I can tell you've been
a very nice girl. What is your wish?"

He thought he knew what she would say. Of course this little
girl wanted to be able to hear and see, just like he did. His
heart felt heavy. This was not a gift he could provide.

"I want to meet Rudolph. I want to soar through the sky on his
back," the little girl said.

Once more, Santa was surprised. He shook his head in
confusion, and then spoke to Amy again. "It would be my pleasure
for you to ride on Rudolph's back. And when Christmas time
arrives, we will visit your house in America..."

"With a sleigh full of toys!," Amy interrupted."

"That's right," he said, and gave her a kiss on the top of her
head.

Amy reached up with her tiny hands to feels Santa's face. "Oh,
Santa," she said., "You are too skinny and your hair is crazy.
Eat, eat, eat!"

Santa let out a jolly laugh. His eyes sparkled with life.

"I will, little Amy Nicholas. Good bye, my friend. Happy June!"

*****

Santa assigned tow elves to return Amy on Rudolph's back. He
smiled at the thought. He would have gone with her, but there
was far too much to be done.

"Olive! Shan!," he called. "Summon all the elves and reindeer
to Christmas Square. I will be there soon."

He looked at Mrs. Claus and said, "My Dear, I can't go out
looking like this."

Mrs. Claus was ready. It had long been her duty to keep Santa
in fit form.

After he bathed, Mrs. Claus use her magic scissors and comb to
cut his hair and trim his bear.. He was too thin for his
traditional red suit, but she managed to find something in
green with a matching cap.

"Santa," she said, "It is bright out in the snow. The glare
will bother your eyes. Here, wear these."

She handed him a pair of dark sunglasses. The sides were
decorated with white and red gems. "So you always shine," she
added.
He was all ready for business. Shan took his right arm and
guided him out to Christmas Square. Depending on someone else
to find his way around made him nervous. Yet he walked with a
steady stride and kept his head held high. Christmas was his.
He would make it happen no matter what.

Shan led him up the steps on to the platform that over looked
Christmas Square. It was from here that Santa always directed
his elves and reindeer on preparations for Christmas.

When the elves saw Santa, they began to cheer and wave their
arms. Of course, Santa couldn't see them. Olive described the
scene so Santa would know what was going on.

"Thank you, my loyal elves," he bellowed. "We must prepare for
Christmas. We are already two months behind schedule."

He began assigning tasks. The Toy Makers were to start work
imitatively. The reindeer needed to get back in shape and
practice sleigh maneuver. The Watch Elves would secretly
check-in on the human children and begin taking notes. He would
need to know who was naughty and who was nice.

As he spoke, he waved his hands swiftly above the crowd. Wisps
of green, red and white began to circle overhead. Sparkles of
gold and silver fell to the ground below. All around, elves and
reindeer felt the return of Christmas magic. This was a gift
that only Santa Claus could bestow. They now knew for sure that
Santa was back.

*****

The elves sprang to work, as Shan guided Santa back down the
platform steps. A small group of odd looking elves approached.
Olive explained to Santa, "The Science Elves want to talk to you.
Here is Snazit."

Snazit was a tall, wirily elf, who always wore a white lab
coat. He felt out of place whenever he left his beloved lab.
He didn't interact much with the other elves. But today, he
desperately wanted to speak with Santa Claus.

"Sir," he said, in his squeaky voice, "I've heard of your
predicament. I have been tinkering in the lab... a little work
with DnA... A hybrid, you might say...."

His voice droned on as Olive interpreted. Even she was having
trouble keeping up. No one ever did seem to understand what
Snazit was talking about.

Santa clapped his hands, and Snazit stopped speaking.

"What are you saying, Snazit? Do you have a cure for me?"

Snazit bowed his head in general sorrow. "I wish, my
Christmas King," he said. "But even Science is lacking that
answer. I do have something that might help."

Snazit snapped his fingers, and his fellow Science Elves came
forward. They were leading something over to Santa. He
squinted in confusion. It was an animal of some sort. Olive
tried to describe it, but she was clueless, too.

Snazit noticed their bewilderment. "Err... Perhaps I need to
explain. I got the idea from the humans, actually. A mere dog
would not be suited for you, Santa. A specially trained
reindeer would be too big. So I created a mix."

"A mix of what? For what?," Santa asked.

Snazit tried again. "You are much too independent to be led
around by your elf helpers. I created you the greatest guide.
He's part Labrador and pare reindeer, with a bit of magic thrown
in. He'll lead you anywhere."

Santa stepped closer to look at the creature. It was white with
red stripes and had little buds of reindeer horns. It's tail
was long and bushy. It was furiously wagging at Santa. The
animal had big brown eyes and floppy ears. Santa didn't know
what this thing was, but it sure was cute.

"He's the perfect height for you," Snazit continued.. "Just
take the harness and tell him where you want to go."

Santa picked up the harness. It did feel good in his hand. He
reached down to stroke the creature, then quickly jumped back.
It was glowing. All of the white fur from head to toe was
glowing brightly.

Snazit beamed with pride. "I added that just in case you need
some extra light. Stroke him again and the glowing will stop."

"Snazit, what is this marvelous creature?," Santa asked.

"We call him Peppermint. Go on, tell him where you want to
go."

"Peppermint," Santa called out, "Take me to Toy House C."

With no hesitation at all, Peppermint began leading Santa toward
the specified location. Santa felt strong and confident, as he
walked with Peppermint. From that day on, Santa was never seen
without Peppermint at his side.

*****

Santa Claus opened the door and entered Toy House C. The whole
building was buzzing with activity. Elves ran here and there
for needed materials or to package finished products. The light
was dim where they stood, so Olive took Santa's hands and
signed, "They are singing about you, Santa."

Toy House C is where the dolls, stuffed animals and other soft
toys were made. The Chief Doll Maker ran over to Santa. Hollyn
was short and lively. She wore her long golden hair in a
messy bun. Despite her appearance, she was quite serious about
her work.

Hollyn spoke while Olive signed into Santa's hands.

"Santa Claus, it is an honor to have you here in Toy House C.
How can I help you, Sir?"

"I need a doll," said Santa Claus.

"A doll?," Hollyn asked, "We have only just begun our work for
the season. We have only completed a few dolls."

"I need a special doll, Hollyn," Santa said. "I need a
beautiful doll with delicate features.. She must have long red
hear and bright green eyes."

Hollyn let out a gasp and ran off toward her work station. When
she returned, she was carrying the very doll Santa had
described.

"I just finished her," Hollyn said. "I thought she was complete
but something told me to add dimples and rosey cheeks."

The doll was lovely. She was wearing a long green dress with
white trim and black leather shoes.

Santa claus felt the doll's face, her button nose, her sweet
little dimples and gentle smile. He ran his hands through her
long hair and over her velvet dress.

Shan was amazed. "This doll looks just like Amy Nicholas," she
said.

Santa let out a hearty laugh. "Of course it does," he said.
"Christmas magic is in the air tonight."

There was a moment of awed silenced before Santa spoke again.
"Hollyn, I want you to wrap up this doll and send her to little
Amy Nicholas in America."

"Tonight?," Hollyn scoffed. "It's only June. We don't deliver
until Christmas Eve."

Santa looked at her sternly. "It must be tonight. Take a
reindeer. I want the card to say, 'Thank you for showing me the
way.'"

*****

Christmas Eve had arrived at last. Elves were busy loading the
last bundles of toys onto Santa's sleigh. The team of reindeer
was in place and ready to go. Peppermint led Santa to the
sleigh. He was once ag his round and jolly old self. he
jumped into the sleigh with great confidence. Peppermint sat
beside him, along with Olive and Shan. Santa stroked
Peppermints head, and his fur began to glow. Santa used this
light to over see every last detail of the journey ahead. He
patted Peppermint again, and the light faded at once.

Into the darkness, Santa shouted, "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer!
Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and
Blitzen! To Rudolph with your guiding light! Now, dash away,
dash away, dash away all!"

The sleigh took off at once. Santa held the reins, while Olive
and Shan signed course corrections into his hands. At last they
softly landed on top of the first house. Peppermint led Santa
right to the Chimney. Shan and Olive followed, their arms filled
with packages.

They began at the tree. Santa laid the gifts out with care. He
used his hands to feel around and made sure everything looked
perfect.

Olive and Shan filled the stockings and brought them to Santa.
"This one is for Joey," Olive said."

Shan handed him another bulging stocking. "And this is for
Andrea."

Peppermint quietly led Santa into each child's room, where he
left a a stocking at the foot of their bed." They made it back to
the sleigh and on they went, delivering toys to all the good
little girls and boys.

What would Christmas be like if Santa Claus was deaf-blind?

Exactly the same.

As he drove out of sight, Santa Claus exclaimed, "Happy Christmas
to All... And to all a good night!"

This story is dedicated to Randy Pope, Olivia Krise, Shannon
Cowling, Amy Marshall, Nicholas Abrahamson, Scott "Snaz" Stoffel,
Holly Alonzo, Tonilyn Todd, Joseph Howell and Andrea Reiss... And
to many others who have faced pain and suffering, yet found it
possible to overcome their troubles. Merry Christmas to a
world filled with survivors.

December, 2011

the christmas battle

Christmas time... It's the most beautiful time of the year. And
the trickiest. Parents are doing everything possible to make
their kids' dreams come true. Their toughest job is to keep it
a secret until December 25th. On the opposite side, sneaky and
snooping kids try everything they can to find out what they are
getting... Now!

Joseph has been difficult this holiday season. All he wants is a
TV for his bedroom or permission to play World of Warcraft at
home. Since he knows he won't get either, he refuses to offer
other ideas. Where does that leave me? I'm in a hot spot, and
that's probably what Joseph wants. Parent 0, Kid 5

But I am a smart and cunning parent. I came up with the PERFECT
Christmas gift that I know Joseph will LOVE. Parent 10, Kid 0

I made Joseph clean out the dining room to make space for it. I
assured him it's a big gift. He complained the whole time.
"It's probably something stupid. I know I'll hate it." Parent
25, Kid 0

Joseph will be with his father for Christmas this year. Our
celebration will be on December 30th, when he comes home. I
can't wait to see his excitement when he runs in and finds a
brand new desk top computer just for him. Oh, yeah... he's going
to be thrilled. This is the best gift I've ever come up with.
Parent 30, Kid 0

He can't even snoop because we don't have it yet. There's no
risk. He won't find out until he walks through the door and sees
it with his own eyes on the 30th. Parent 50, Kid 0

It all fell apart in a twinkle... It was a random series of
events... a total fluke.

Joseph was coming in through the basement after his Tuesday night
basketball game. The phone was ring. It was his dad. He took
the call on the basement phone.

That phone is right next to the printer. I asked my father to
print some paper about dental insurance that my ex-husband had
sent me. He did that -- and also printed the original message in
which Greg and I talked about the computer I was buying for
Joseph.

As Joseph hung up the phone, he saw his name on the paper on top
of the printer. He began to read.... the rest is history.

Joseph came upstairs and ran to me. He was vibrating with
excitement -- absolutely bouncing off the walls. He tried not
to mention what he discovered. That lasted about two seconds.
"You are getting me a computer!!," he yelled while doing a funny
dance.

Okay, there was a big surprise, but it was mine instead of his.
I did get to witness his happiness, just two weeks too early.
Parent 0, Kid 1000

An almost normal holiday

For many people who are deaf-blind, the holidays can be quite
sad and lonely. There's just so much going on and so much we
can't do. We feel totally left out.

Try to imagine what it would be like. You can't see Christmas
trees, ornaments and decorations. You can't see twinkling
Christmas lights on houses and flickering candles in each
window. You can't watch Christmas movies and specials on TV.
You can't hear Christmas music. You can't drive to the mall to
do your Christmas shopping. How would you feel about all that?

Even with the love and support of my family, I still feel like
I'm missing out on so much. I want to be a part of it all --
the movies, the music the madness of the mall... My parents
and Joseph decorate the house. My mother does the baking. She
goes out shopping for me, or my dad orders things online. I'm
there, but I'm not really part of it.

This year has been different. All it takes is some opportunities
and help from good friends. Now I'm actually having an almost
normal holiday. Read on for more details.

On December 11th, Andrea took me out shopping. I had a detailed
list, which she printed and brought with her. That made it so
much easier.

We hit the first store and got my dad's gift I bought my mom
four small things at Kohls that mostly go together. We bought
two Wii games at Toys R Us. I signed up for their rewards
program, so they gave me a $25 gift certificate that would
become valid in six hours. We decided to come back out
another day for the rest of the stuff.

Then Andrea dragged me to and all around the mall. She's my
physical therapist so I have to walk with her. In the end, all
we bought there was a calender for Joseph. I can't believe we
braved that zoo for only a calendar. At least I lived to tell
about it.

All the handicapped parking spots were full, so we had to park
near a steak restaurant. We were both hungry, and the scent
from the steak house smelled wonderful. So we went in for
some dinner. I'm not usually a steak eater, but this food was
incredibly good.

On December 13th, Abby took me to her friend's house to bake
cookies. It was a bunch of women hanging out and doing some
Christmas baking. Even though I couldn't communicate with the
others, I still felt like I was part of the group. As much as I
don't like cookie, I actually had fun.

My job was to work on the messy stuff. Hands-on-cooking...
That's my kind of thing. I mixed dough by hand and rolled it
into balls to put on the cookie sheets. I stuck Hershey Kisses
onto each sugar cookie. I rolled the chilled oreo cookies
around in melted white and milk chocolate. I also pressed dough
into a special pan with indentions of Christmas shapes. Plus, I
washed my hands about 20 times.

Funny story -- one woman was making dough for peanut butter
cookies. She accidently tripled the baking power instead of
doubling it. That didn't seem like a major issue. But when the
cookies were baking, we could all small peppermint. It turns out
she used peppermint oil instead of vanilla. I wasn't too fond
of those cookies.

I brought home a plate of everything except the peanut butter
cookies. My family must have approved, because the cookies were
all gone in two days.

Andrea came again on December 15th so I could finish my
shopping. Toys R Us didn't have the Lego sets Joseph wanted. I
did get him one thing and a rattle to use during my volunteer
work. I gave them my $25 gift card. They gave me back 53 cents.
I love that kind of shopping.

I had another gift card for a different store. So, knowing
this was a horrible idea, we went to Wal-Mart. Gasp! It was a
total madhouse, but we did well. I got More presents for
Joseph, something for a friend and a few decorations. My part of
shopping is complete.

On December 16th, a friend from Maryland Deaf-Blind camp came to
visit. Her husband's family lives in Canton, so they deiced to
stop over for a short time. It was so Wonderful to see her
again. She's always been one of my favorite SSP's at camp. I
enjoyed the chance to just sit and chat. We exchanged Christmas
presents. It was a sweet and happy visit.

A friend online helped me find and order a Nutcracker for
Joseph. He loves nutcrackers, so we buy him a special one each
year. His new nutcracker is a Boy Scout, complete with an
American flag in his hand.

This friend is a little nutty. He added a gift for me in the
package. This was a reference to the day my dentist told me to
cut back on the Starbursts. I pulled out a bunch of empty
wrappers and said, "What Starbursts?"

So what did he send me? A case with 15 packs of Starburst and
15 packs of skittles. He added a tube of toothpaste to go with
it. Ha! I love it!

Today it is snowing. My mother is baking cookies. They smell so
yummy. We have a fire going in the fireplace. Joseph and my
father are working on the Christmas tree. I got to hang the
first ornament -- my Christmas Donut that I bought from Dunkin
Donuts.. Everything is just perfect. Despite being deaf-blind,
I'm having a pretty good holiday.