Getting A Guide Dog

It’s hard to believe I’ll be headed for San Francisco to meet my dog in a few short days. I am SO pumped!

I create, check and double-check lists; buy sundries; continue to cook (and freeze the occasional meal); cleaning, with hopes of having laundry caught up before I leave…and search unsuccessfully for my swimsuit, which has mysteriously disappeared into a black hole, accompanied by my water-shoes.

My mom has dementia. Routine daily phone calls from her (now) middle-aged children provide her with a sense of security and normality. I remind her regularly of my upcoming training, and have caregivers write the dates on her calendar so she won’t be upset on extra long training days is I don’t call. My getting a dog is very important to her. This bond allows her to share in my excitement, resulting in a remarkably infrequent need for reminders.

It’s Saturday. Tomorrow I leave to get my dog. As I travel the familiar Starbucks route, I pay particular attention to the slope of the ground beneath my feet, the direction of the wind and the sun. As a cane traveler, I’m accustomed to encountering obstacles with my cane, like changes in sidewalk texture, grass-lines and parking stops. Come Monday, I will no longer receive that kind of feedback on walks. I’ll have a wonderful new friend who will guide me around those obstacles, and many more I’ll never know about. I’ll rely more on my sense of time and distance, rather than counting sidewalks and following grass-lines.

This is my last time…for a very long time… to travel this route alone with my cane.

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m giddy with excitement (which kept me awake until 3:30 AM). As I finish packing, I remind myself to allow extra room for dog supplies on my return.

Try as I may to hurry, my tired body is an additional hour behind from the start of Daylight Savings Time. My husband and I grab breakfast to go on our way to the airport.

What a madhouse! Ours is a busy airport, but this is insane. The lines are unbelievable. Families with children are everywhere. Everybody and their dog must be flying out of DFW today! Welcome to spring break!

I’m grateful that the airline issues a pass to my husband (because of my disability) permitting him to walk me to the gate area. An airport employee directs us to a specific security line. When we finally reach the front of the line, we’re told we’ve been misinformed and are directed to a second line. Just before we reach line #2, we’re intercepted by a third employee who insists (in a thick accent) on accompanying us to a third (even longer) line that is farther away from the first two. The prior chaos has eaten about 45 minutes of our time. As you might imagine, I’m less than thrilled with this employee’s insistence that we go much farther down to a line that appears longer than the first two put together.

To my relief and surprise, this security line moves miraculously quickly, despite its discouragingly long length. I say a silent prayer of thanksgiving and repentance for the persistence of the employee whom I had previously found annoying.

(To Be Continued…)