[Blindtlk] Blind Hope | Wapato man learns to live without sight, Yakima Herald-Republic, November 5, 2011

[Humberto Avila]

Hello All. I thought this might be very interesting to share with you. It is
an article from the Yakima Herald Republic from Yakima, Washington
 
link:
http://www.yakima-herald.com/stories/2011/11/05/blind-hope-wapato-man-learns
-to-live-without-sight?utm_source=feedburner
<http://www.yakima-herald.com/stories/2011/11/05/blind-hope-wapato-man-learn
s-to-live-without-sight?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=F
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Text: Tracy Sanchez listens to traffic as he navigates his way from the
Washington State Department of Services for the Blind to a nearby library as
part of his mobility course on Wednesday, Sept. 14, 2011. Although Sanchez
still has some sight, he does the assignment wearing glasses that have been
painted black, so he can't see at all in order to hone the skills he will
someday need as his vision fades.
 

SEATTLE, Wash. -- He has blind faith -- faith in his teachers and
classmates, faith that he can do anything.
Even if the world around him is almost completely black.
Because for Tracy "Dino" Sanchez of Wapato, believing is seeing.
Sanchez is legally blind and rapidly losing any remaining eyesight.
The 45 year old was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa nearly 20 years ago,
a genetic disorder that leads to incurable blindness.
Because it's a progressive condition, Sanchez is preparing for the day --
"the doctor says it could be tomorrow, a year or 20 years" -- when he won't
be able to see at all.
And that has brought him to Seattle, where he's enrolled in a vocational
rehabilitation program at the state Department of Services for the Blind.
He's memorizing Braille, mastering computer skills, typing 25 words a minute
and learning to maneuver around the kitchen. He's even wielded a 9-inch
radial arm saw.
And in the process, he's envisioning a brighter future.
For years Sanchez was able to make do, not giving in to the disability that
was inevitably going to catch up with him.
An enrolled Yakama tribal member, after graduating from Wapato High School,
he dabbled in a variety of careers, starting with sailing on a crab boat in
Alaska, then working in sales, casinos and construction. It was during one
of his building jobs that he realized he could no longer discern objects
outdoors in sunlight.
"I started to notice that my vision was getting worse," he recalls. "My
enemy became those yellow signs that say 'wet floor.' I would always knock
into them. But I was in denial for years."
As it became increasingly more difficult to work, Sanchez qualified for
Social Security disability payments.
In many ways, that made him more pessimistic.
"I felt hopeless and helpless," he says.
However, Social Security personnel referred him to the Yakima office of the
Department of Services for the Blind, and that was the beginning of his
renaissance.
Although skeptical, he decided to enroll in the training center run by the
blind services in Seattle. He realized he needed to learn how to function if
and when he becomes totally blind.
That didn't make the transition any smoother, though.
"When I first came, I was broken and angry. I couldn't drive," he says. "I
thought, 'What am I going to do now?'"
And then he saw the light.
"I got my hopes up," he says, after finding out that the center helps
develop skills to live independently and be successfully employed.
"People who lose their vision have to learn to do things differently,"
explains Keiko Namekata, training center program manager. "Our world is
defined by what we see, so people who don't function visually have to learn
to compensate and fill in the gaps."
Training takes between 25-30 weeks. Students attend classes from 8 a.m. to 5
p.m., five days a week. Of the seven instructors, three are blind or
visually impaired. An average of 20 students attend at a time.
The program is free to the students, funded through state and federal
monies. The cost of fully training a student is about $11,000.
Namekata, who lost her sight as a youngster due to a degenerative disease,
says, "We focus on matching each person with a job that utilizes their
skills, interests and talents, so they'll be successful for the long term."
A divorced father with three children and three grandchildren, Sanchez
started at the training center last spring.
"Everything I do here boosts my confidence," he notes.
One recent day, Sanchez was getting ready for a test in his mobility class.
(Instructor Mary Lorenz calls it "How to get there and back.")
Sanchez's homework was to research the location of the neighborhood library
and telephone to ask about steps and the entry way.
With that complete, he grabs his cane and dons dark, light-blocking glasses
and begins walking down a hill three blocks to the library.
Lorenz follows a discreet distance behind.
He stops at a crosswalk, ears cocked. "I listen for traffic. I know when it
stops and goes, and I go with it," he says.
He rotates his cane over the width of the sidewalk, feeling for the curb.
He's doing well, but there is treachery ahead: cracks and bumps in the
cement.
He negotiates those successfully, but he's fooled by a side path that veers
from the main sidewalk into a park. He follows briefly, then pauses.
"He realizes the traffic sounds are gone," his teacher says, sotto voce.
Once Sanchez figures out his mistake, he rights himself and easily makes it
to the library.
He's especially pleased that he wasn't fooled by a nearby parking lot that
he has mistakenly strayed into on four previous trips.
"I beat the parking lot!" he cheers.
Later, he reflects, "It doesn't matter if you wander off. What matters is if
you get out of it."
Lorenz gives him high marks. "You have good problem-solving skills. You're
curious and alert."
With that successful foray, Sanchez will be readying himself for the final
exam, which involves traveling in a bus to downtown Seattle, entering a
building through a revolving door, riding an escalator and returning to the
school.
He's already cooked an eight-course meal from scratch, including ribs, baked
beans and potato salad -- all the while wearing his dark eye coverings.
That was in his home economics class, where he also mastered sewing, house
cleaning, ironing and doing laundry. Again, without being able to see what
he was doing.
Instructor Donna Lawrence points out, "Our whole goal is independence."
She adds, "(Sanchez) got so excited to cook; he'd never done it before. He's
so inspiring, a stellar person."
Lawrence isn't the only one who finds Sanchez's enthusiasm infectious.
Classmate Tim Brown notes, "Dino is one of those guys who draws people in.
He's very gifted."
Sanchez's final class of the day is wood shop, where he's making a headboard
for his bed. Relying on instinct and instructor Bronson Goo's guidance, he
uses a router to carve a notch along an oak board.
Sanchez has taken on a leadership role during his training, serving as
president of the student body. He works closely on school projects with
another Lower Valley resident, Monica Salazar, from Granger.
Also legally blind, Salazar eventually hopes to become a massage therapist
or work in a preschool.
Sanchez plans next to pursue a degree in business management. Ultimately, he
hopes to own his own business.
He's not sure what yet, but he's sure of one thing:
"I could have been one of those guys who took social security disability and
done nothing else. But," he emphasizes, "I want to live.
"I think I make the guy standing on the corner holding a cardboard sign look
bad because I'm doing something for myself."
That doesn't mean he's immune to down times, yearning for enough vision to
choose any job he wants.
"I wouldn't wish this on anybody. I really enjoyed construction jobs,
working outside and getting dirty. I wish I still could do that."
Yet most people who know Sanchez remark on his determination and charm,
rather than his waning eyesight.
"He's a wonderful person, such a great personality," says Anna Marrs, a
rehabilitation tech in the Yakima office of the services for the blind.
She points out that when Sanchez settles on a career, he'll be joining many
other visually impaired people employed in the state. She notes that 147
people with low vision found jobs in Washington last year.
Sanchez fully intends to boost that number.
"Life is always going to bring you down. But it's your choice to get up and
do something about it."