<div dir="ltr"><div>Hello All,</div><div><br></div><div>At our June meeting, we heard the article entitled "A Note to Motivate Myself and Clarify my Path". It was taken from the Braille Monitor of November 2020. I am pasting it below just in case you want to hear it again. Enjoy!<br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>
<h2>A Note to Motivate Myself and Clarify My Path</h2>
<p><strong>by Maureen Nietfeld</strong></p>
<p><strong>From
the Editor: People who remember the scholarship class of 2019 will
remember Maureen Nietfeld. She faces more obstacles each day than many
of us will face in a lifetime, yet she does not complain. What follows
is a diary and a motivational talk she gave to herself. When a friend
saw it, Maureen was encouraged to send it to the<em>Monitor</em> to see
if there was anything worth publishing. She did, we did, and now you
can benefit. When I read this, I think of the number of pity parties
I’ve attended on my behalf and how often I’ve seriously considered
giving up. Whatever Maureen may have considered, giving up was not what
she did. Enjoy! </strong></p>
<p>I let blindness and many medical problems act as a barrier to my
ultimate dream of getting my degree, so in January of 2017, I made the
decision that I would no longer let this be. I started going to school
at Metropolitan State University of Denver and set my goal to pursue a
bachelor’s degree in lifestyle medicine with a minor in pre-healthcare.
It was also in January 2017 that a repeat MRI of my brain indicated
that I would ultimately need another brain surgery and a treatment of
stereotactic radiation. It seemed that my never-ending cycle of
barriers was beginning again. I had said to myself that I was going to
finish this degree no matter what challenge would meet me in the years
to come. My journey began, and the challenges over the next three years
were definitely not in short supply.<br>
</p>
<p>In February 2017 I had my first round of stereotactic radiation.
The doctors assured me that there would be no side effects, and I could
go about my life the very next day. Unfortunately, I fell in the 1
percent, and within one hour after radiation my brain began to swell. I
had to begin a regimen of high doses of steroids to combat the brain
swelling, and for the next two years, due to the brain pressure, I
would throw up pretty much every single day. I continued to make it
through my first semester. After discussing the need for a very
dangerous brain stem surgery, we decided to schedule it in May so I
could finish my semester. My plan was to recover over the break and
begin summer classes in June. <br>
</p>
<p>Around this time, I was also notified that I was selected as one
of the thirty finalists in the NFB national scholarship process. This
meant that I would be going to national convention in July. I figured
that having surgery in May would allow me plenty of time to begin
school in June and attend the convention in July. <br>
</p>
<p>The surgery was definitely more complicated than anyone
anticipated, and my recovery was nothing like I had ever experienced in
the thirty-plus surgeries prior to this one. The surgery caused severe
damage to my right side, and I was left with the inability to use my
right hand and arm. Ultimately the function and feeling in my right
hand would never return, and I am left with increased balance issues
and pain. I attended the national convention in July with the assistance
of my mother and a wheelchair. I was awarded the top scholarship that
year. To say that I was elated would be an understatement. My
colleagues in the organized blind movement supported me again with not
only this unbelievable honor but funding that would help me pursue my
academic and vocational goals. I was more than elated. But I really had
no earthly idea how I would finish my degree. How would I be able to
finish school not being able to use a computer anymore, having to
relearn so much, and living in this awful pain? I knew that the
National Federation of the Blind believed in me, and therefore I had to
find the strength to continue to believe in myself. My friends and
loved ones rose up to support me as well, and I knew that together we
would find a way.<br>
</p>
<p>Learning to type one-handed was not an option because I had
already been doing that. Due to a stroke when I was twenty-five, I had
limited feeling in my left hand. I had been one-handed typing all these
years using my right hand, and now that was taken away as well. I
ultimately learned to be left-handed. Through the use of an iPhone,
readers, and scribes, I continued with school. One of my dearest and
best friends, Erin Daley, has worked tirelessly as my reader scribe. We
developed a fantastic way of working together, and I was filled with
promise that, with these modifications, I had found a solution. I was
able to complete the summer courses that year and continued with the
fall semester. I was also able to return to work as a home management
instructor at the Colorado Center for the Blind. I continued to just
slowly figure out my world with this additional disability. Travel
became a major struggle, having to use my left hand and dealing with
all of the balance issues, but I was able to receive a guide dog.
Reilly has been an amazing addition to my life and my family’s life.<br>
</p>
<p>Nine months later I was continuing a slow recovery but ultimately
felt like I was regaining my life. In February we received the biggest
shock of my life—I was pregnant! I was always told that pregnancy would
be too risky for me. Pregnancy can cause a progression in my disease
and ultimately more tumors could grow. I also have a kidney transplant,
and pregnancy could cause my transplanted organ to fail. There were so
many fears, but the joy of this amazing miracle stifled all of them. <br>
</p>
<p>I continued to go to work, school, and adjust to my new normal. I
was a new guide dog handler, a person with a multiple disability, and
soon I would be a mom. On August 13, 2018, we went to the hospital, and
I was in labor. Logan wouldn’t actually arrive until August 15 due to
some major complications. I had become preeclamptic, my brain was
swelling, and my kidney was failing. The physicians and nurses worked
tirelessly around the clock to keep me stable, and Logan and I pulled
through. The next seventeen days were the hardest of my life. Logan had
to stay in the NICU because he was only thirty-four weeks. I was sicker
than I think I ever had been in my life and was struggling every day.
Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, that nightmare ended,
and we were able to bring Logan home. We had decided that I would leave
my job at the Colorado Center for the Blind and stay home to be with
Logan. I continued to attend school and was able to find employment
that allowed me to work part-time from home.<br>
</p>
<p>Once again, I was adjusting to my new normal. I was no longer a
home management teacher at the Colorado Center for the Blind, but I was
more than thrilled to be a mom. I loved every minute I got to be with
Logan, and I continued to recover and took that fall semester off to
adjust to our new life. I returned to school that January, and soon
after the terrible headaches began again. It was the summer of 2019.
The convention of the National Federation of the Blind was in Las
Vegas, and of course David and I attended. It really became evident to
me that something was very wrong that week. I constantly had terrible
headaches, dizziness, and just knew something was wrong. When we got
home, I made an appointment for my routine MRI of my brain. It showed
that an existing brain tumor had gotten significantly larger, and we
would need to operate. They wanted to operate that September, but I
opted to deal with the side effects I was experiencing until December
so I could complete another semester of school. On December 5, 2019, I
had to get another brain surgery. This would make my thirty-fifth
surgery. I was able to work with my teachers that semester and finished
two weeks early. I was able to submit all my work in advance and took
my finals early. I then had forty days to recover until the next
semester.<br>
</p>
<p>The semester of spring 2020 I took eighteen credits, meaning I
only had five credits to complete in summer of 2020. August 13 has been
an amazing day in my life. That day nine years ago David and I were
married, two years ago I went into labor with Logan, and I received an
email from my university that my bachelors of science in lifestyle
medicine with a minor in pre-healthcare had been awarded.<br>
</p>
<p>Three years, two brain surgeries, brain radiation, and a baby
later I am finally a college graduate!! I wrote this down as a reminder
to myself and one day to Logan that dreams can become reality. No
matter what challenges lie ahead, we all have the strength to rise up
and face them. </p>
</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div><div dir="ltr" class="gmail_signature" data-smartmail="gmail_signature"><div dir="ltr"><div><b><font size="2">Sharon Maneki, Director of Legislation and Advocacy</font></b></div><div><font size="2">National Federation of the Blind of Maryland</font></div><div><font size="2">410-715-9596</font></div><div><font size="2"><br></font></div><div><font size="2">The National Federation of the Blind of Maryland knows that blindness is not the characteristic that defines you or your future. Everyday we raise the expectations of blind people, because low expectations create obstacles between blind people and our dreams. You can live the life you want; blindness is not what holds you back.<br></font></div><div><b><font size="2"></font></b></div><div><b><font size="2"><br></font></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>