Never Read and Drive (Soft Stomach, part 1)

I could never have worked in the medical field. Well, maybe I could, but I would always be on the verge of passing out, complete with tunnel vision, and a pale/green face…. or vomiting, not necessarily all in that order. 

I can probably count on my hand the people have been privileged enough to witness this phenomenon that happens to me when I am around blood or needles, two of which would be GDB employees- the  resident veterinary of the campus) and one of GDB's long-time instructors of 20+ years.  

Reading in a moving vehicle has never bothered me.  However, reading medical books apparently DO bother me; so when you put the two together, you get a nasty mixture. (literally).

Being the oh-so-time-efficient-and-studious-apprentice that I am, I thought it would be a great use of time to read one of my apprentice books “Showdown with Diabetes” while in the training van during the 45 minute drive to Portland.  I took the passenger seat while Cindy hopped into the driver’s seat and took off.  The book started out as a biography, but quickly turned the corner when it started discussing in great detail how nasty Diabetes really is and how it physically effects the body.  I was ¼ through the book when I looked up out the window.  We were on the highway, traveling at a great speed, too fast for my overly-grossed-out brain to handle.  All I could think of were insulin shots, and swelling ankles, and black-outs due to sugar lows.

I closed the book, and got a glimpse of my fingers under the nails. They were green.  I looked at my face in the mirror.  You guessed it…Green. I looked at the palms of my shaking hands. Sweaty and…green.  Then the tunnel vision hit.  I tried to focus on the license plate of the car in front of us.  That’s literally all I could see. 

I am NOT going to pass out in front of Cindy because of a stupid BOOK about Diabetes!  Maybe if I DO pass out, I will pretend I’m taking a nap…great idea!!! With that, I reclined the seat. 

Well, that plan ended up just back-firing, because it made Cindy looked over at me.

“Hey! You ok?!

“Mhhh-hmm.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant as I placed my arm over my head  in a sleepy manner, also in attempts to cover my GREEN face..

“You’re green, man!” 

She was on to me, and I knew I was caught.  “Yeah, I don’t feel too good right now.” I admitted.

“Well, I can’t really pull over anywhere because there are no exits for a long time.”

“Yeah, I know.  I’ll be fine.  Just need to rest.

Trying to “rest” while on the verge of passing out is nearly impossible because your brain is working 10x’s harder to concentrate on NOT passing out. It totally defeats the purpose.

Then it hit me.  Not a thought.  No, much worse.  That desperate “I-gotta-puke” feeling that starts deep in your stomach as a tiny knot but turns into a full-on furr-ball in just seconds.  Once again, I tried to ignore said urges, and focused on breathing deeply. 

Breathe, Oxygen, FLOW! Work! I don’t need to puke, I’m Fine, Breathe, It’s nothing, barfing is NOT an option, everything’s ok, Breathe…

This mental prep-talk clearly didn’t work because my mind switched gears as I began to weigh my options. Ok, I can’t stick my head out the window to barf at 60 mph, that’ll just make an awful mess, I have my purse I can use, ew, no. Water bottle? Ew, no.  Then the most blessed and life-saving thought came to me.

Poop Baggies!

I sat up the chair abruptly and frantically grabbed for the closest poop bag hanging on the center console….and then waited. Poop bag poised by my mouth, ready for action.  Nothing. Now that's just embarrassing.

There comes a point where the body just screams for the sweet release of a thorough-stomach-cleansing that only a good barf can provide.  And that’s exactly what my body finally did.  I expertly tied the ends of the bag together, and quietly dropped it on the floorboard by the door and stared straight ahead like nothing ever happened.

Eyes on the road, Cyndi.  She kept right on driving, eyes on the road.  Atta girl.

Take Time to Smell the Roses...

Being blindfolded does weird stuff to your senses.

Because I am not “accustom” to being without sight on a daily basis, if must be odd for the brain to suddenly have to cope with the immediate and drastic change.  Every day noises such as a pedestrian’s footfalls on the sidewalk, the slight “ticking” that a bicycle makes when it is coasting, or the hum of a distant leaf blower down the street, seems to become magnified and “closer”. 

Ahhh, But SMELLS.  The smells get me every time!  When sighted, I normally don’t really pay attention to smells, unless I am passing a bakery…then I REALLY sniff the air.  But “every-day” smells, so to speak, never really grab my attention…until I am wearing a blindfold.  Then the world comes alive with them.  If someone is standing next to me at a curb while waiting for a light to change, I can sometimes determine whether it’s a guy or gal depending on their perfume, cologne or deodorant.  (I promise I’m not a weirdo that goes around sniffing everyone like a coon-hound).

Other times, I can use my sense of smell to determine my orientation.  There are several stores in downtown Portland that are distinct such as Victoria’s Secret very fragrant perfume, and Chipotle’s oil-fried chips and salsa.

A lot of times, I am right in my smell-predictions.  But other times, Maaaan, am I SO off!

This particular incident was during one of my early blindfold experiences a month into my apprenticeship.

There I was, blindfolded with my dog, standing on the curb edge. I was concentrating so hard on audibly reading my traffic; listening for the surge of the traffic to indicate it was safe to cross the street.  I’m pretty sure I missed a cycle because I felt we stood there for quite some time, my mentor right behind me.
I could hear that  a large truck was stopped directly in front of me, idling loudly.  But then my smell-senses kicked in.  I breathed in deeply.  Sniffed the air a couple of times.  Smells of freshly baked bread, pepperoni, and cheese wafted in the air.  Wafted quite strongly actually. Wow! I hadn’t realized I was hungry until then (I had not yet eaten lunch).   My mentor was watching me as I sniffed the air.

“Can you tell what type of truck that is?” She asked.

I sniffed the air again. There’s no doubt in my mind I thought.  I know what’s in that truck. And IT. IS. GOOOOD!  Mmmmh! “Yeah!!!!” I said.  “Isn’t It like a Subway truck or something!?” (I love Subway)

Immediately she started laughing….like, really hard. 

“Whaaat?!  What is it?!” I said.

Just then, the truck’s engine’s roared as it began to cross the intersection, sending a fresh new wave of deliciousness my way.  I breathed it all in.  My tummy growled.

“Well,” she said….”That was a DUMP TRUCK!!!”

“Whaaat!?  No way!  It smelled so GOOD!”

It’s a known fact that looks can be deceiving. I get that. But smells, why’d ya’ hafta turn on me too!?

"Yes, he's in training"

It's just a fact; people enjoy watching the dogs as they are being trained.  

Some try to hide the fact that they are intently observing me train the dogs, others just stop what they are doing to watch as we walk by.  Sometimes, many are inquisitive about the program or want to simply just talk to you because they find it all very intriguing. 

The most common comments/questions that I hear are: “Aw, how old is your dog?” “He is so smart!”  “Is he a Golden Lab?” “How far along in training is he?” “What are the booties/dog shoes for?” etc.  But sometimes we come across individuals who are wanting to be educated about the program, or to see how they can adopt a career changed dog as a pet.

In general, I think most people are aware of the purpose of a guide dog- that they perform services to the visually impaired. There are, however, some people who are completely unaware of what a guide dog does, to a point where it is quite comical.

Just the other day, as I was clipping along down the sidewalk at a brisk walk with my dog, I noticed the lady we were approaching, eye-balling my dog and smiling (not uncommon).  When my dog came to a halt near a sandwich board that was in our way, the woman commented something like, “Such a beautiful dog.  How old is he?”

“He’s about a year and a half.” I said.

“Is he in training?”

“Yes, he is.  He is about halfway through his training.” I replied and patted my dog on the head.

“So, what are you training him for?” She asked.

“To be a guide dog for the blind.”

And without missing a beat she said, “Oh, so he’s deaf?”

I wasn’t really expecting THAT response.  “No, he’s not deaf.  I’m training him to guide a person who is blind.”

Confused look from the lady, “But he’s deaf though!” (Said in a statement, not a question)

I shook my head. “Nope, he can hear just fine.”

Another confused look from the lady.

At that moment, I realized that some things just cannot be explained.  All I could do was smile and say, “Well, have a nice day! Enjoy the beautiful weather.  Forward!” And off we went…my deaf dog and I.