Service Tails

by Collins, Ace;

  Though initially homesick, Jamie thrived in the school. Placed in an independent study plan suited to her specific needs, she quickly became more confident. Like a sponge she soaked up her class work while also learning Braille and how to navigate with a cane. In a world where she was just like everyone else, she ran track, played ball games adapted for the visually impaired, and learned to ski. The school was more than just a place to grow; for six years it was a safe, comfortable home. Though her test scores and grades seemed to prove she was ready for college, could Jamie leave the bubble and make her mark in a world not set up to address her specific disability, or would she opt for the safety net and go home to live with her parents? Just like her father relished the challenges of life in the rugged mountains and plains of Northern New Mexico, Jamie gritted her teeth and met an unknown world head on.

  Within weeks of beginning her studies at New Mexico State University (NMSU), the confident young woman fully understood the great limitations created by her blindness in a world built for sighted people. In the small town where she was raised, there were people who watched her grow up and looked out for the blind person. At the School for the Blind she was protected and accepted. But in her new environment, most people had never known a blind person. Many were so intimidated by her disability that it was not easy for the blind freshman to make friends. On top of that, her course work often didn’t offer alternatives for the visually impaired. While the toughness instilled in her by her parents wouldn’t let her quit, she was struggling to find ways to adapt and be accepted. As she somehow willed her way through each new day, she had no way of knowing a hero would soon march into her world and bring her a formula that included so much more than just independence. In fact, this canine champion would reroute her entire life.

  Long before Jamie was born, her special needs were being addressed. In 1942, Lois Merrihew and Don Donaldson had the vision. The pair founded a school in Los Gantos, California, to train dogs to serve as guides for the visually impaired. Though Guide Dogs for the Blind was inspired by the injuries that soldiers, marines, and airmen sustained fighting the battles of World War II, the school quickly expanded to serve the needs of those blinded by accident and disease. More than fifty years after it was founded, at a time when Jamie Martinez was fighting to gain her independence, the school was training a yellow Labrador retriever named Fresca. That dog would soon dramatically change the college student’s life.

  Fresca had been bred in the school’s kennels with one purpose in mind: to be a blind person’s eyes. Raised by volunteers for a year, she was then returned to the school to undergo several months of rigorous and challenging training necessary to earn the title “Guide Dog.” When the harness was in place, she was all business and ready to work. When the harness was taken off, she was a well-behaved dog, eager to play.

  It was 1996 when a nervous Jamie got on a plane and flew to the Pacific Northwest. She hoped that a guide dog would be the answer to living a life not limited by her lack of vision. Unsure but optimistic, alone in a strange place surrounded by people she didn’t know, the college student met the dog specifically chosen to fit her needs.

  The first time she felt the Lab’s wet nose against her arm and held Fresca’s broad head in her hands, it was love at first touch. She’d come to San Rafael, California, on a wing and prayer, and she sensed her chances to succeed would be greatly increased by this happy canine.

  Sitting beside Jamie on that first night were several other sight-impaired people looking for help. One was a young man from Texas. Wayne Sibson had become blind at the age of ten, and, as this was his second guide dog, he already had learned how much a dog could expand his horizons. As Jamie and Wayne became acquainted with their dogs and learned the fundamentals of working as a team, Fresca and Hathaway, Wayne’s new dog, bonded as well.

  Though Jamie didn’t fully grasp it, it wasn’t just Wayne’s dog that wanted to spend time with Fresca; the University of Texas graduate was also looking for excuses to hang out with the coed from New Mex-ico State. Wayne found ways for the two to eat meals together and spend both training time and downtime in the same places.

  A month of rigorous training put Fresca and Jamie into every conceivable life situation from shopping to being dropped off in an unknown area and being expected to find their way back to the assigned rendezvous point. The dog performed perfectly in every test, but like most first-time students, it took Jamie a while to fully trust her new eyes. By the time graduation rolled around, and the new team headed southwest, the woman and dog worked together almost seamlessly.

  Back at NMSU, the dog was excited but confident, while the human wondered if the grand experiment would really work. Folding up her cane, it was time to test the waters.

  Starting with her first day on campus, Fresca immediately changed Jamie’s life. With her cane, long treks across campus were an ordeal. The white stick simply couldn’t warn her about every obstacle in her path or alert her to a host of other things a sighted person noted each day. On top of that, a woman swinging a cane could be intimidating for those in her path.

  From the moment they stepped out the door, Fresca allowed Jamie to move with confidence. Her stride was longer and more secure. She had no fear of running into something or hitting someone. As the dog got to know the campus, the trips from place to place became easier. In fact, Fresca always wanted to explore and see new things, which led Jamie to places and events she’d avoided in the past. This expansion of her world is why she’d wanted the dog, but there was another benefit that she hadn’t imagined.

  Fresca was a people magnet. Because of Jamie’s blindness and cane, in the past, other students had shied away from her. Perhaps it was because they didn’t know what to say, or perhaps they were intimi-dated, but now everyone wanted to know Fresca. Suddenly it seemed Jamie was the most popular person on campus. She couldn’t go anywhere without people introducing themselves and asking questions. With her guide dog serving as the icebreaker, these new acquaintances discovered they had a great deal in common with the blind coed. So with the dog now offering more than security and navigation, Fresca enlarged Jamie’s circle of friends and therefore her influence. In a very real sense, thanks to her dog, the young woman was an emerging star at NMSU as well as a willing ambassador of the unlimited potential for those who were blind.

  While Jamie was using Fresca to move forward, in Austin, Texas, another Guide Dog graduate was reflecting on his days in San Rafael. In fact, Wayne Sibson couldn’t get Jamie out of his mind. When he wasn’t at work, he was thinking about her all the time. He even found himself sharing his thoughts with his dog. It was Hathaway that provided an excuse for a second meeting with Jamie. In the fall of 1997, Wayne made a trip to NMSU so the guide dogs that had enjoyed each other’s company so much in California could get reacquainted. It didn’t take long for Jamie to figure out Wayne was interested in more than just a puppy reunion. While that was flattering, the young woman had other things on her mind. On the merits of her course work, she had earned an internship working with Senator Jeff Bingaman in Washington, D.C. With an adventure at the capitol calling, love was not an option she wanted to consider. So, for a second time it seemed, Wayne had struck out.

  Washington, D.C., was not just a long distance from Tierra Amarilla, New Mexico; from landscape to environment, the two couldn’t have been more different. While her hometown was wide open and laid back, her new world was teeming with people and activity, offering a myriad of challenges that would frighten most sighted college students. In an atmosphere filled with noise, traffic, and people speaking a dozen different languages, Fresca navigated as easily as she had at NMSU. Nothing distracted her when she was on harness. Yet once more, the yellow Lab’s skill set went well beyond getting from point A to point B. With her smiling muzzle and bright eyes, the ambassador with a wagging tail continued her role as an icebreaker. From the capitol building to the super-market, everyone wanted to know more about the canine serving as Jamie’s eyes. T
hey were constantly the center of attention and made friends with everyone from the janitorial staff to the highest-ranking members of Congress.

  One of the funniest moments came when Senator Ted Kennedy introduced himself and asked if he could pet Fresca. Jamie was conflicted, since no one was supposed to pet a guide dog in harness, yet this was a legendary senator and she was just a college intern, so she said yes. Another time, her own boss, Jeff Bingaman Jr. approached Fresca and attempted to give her a treat. Finding her voice and using the diplomacy she learned during her brief tenure in Washington, Jamie announced, “Sorry, no you can’t.” Then she explained why.

  The summer in D.C. assured Jamie she could go anywhere and do anything. In fact, thanks to her guide dog, the young woman sensed she had an advantage in initiating friendships and creating meaningful and deep relationships. People seemed to be drawn to her. She began to realize that her loss of sight might be providing her a deeper insight into reading people’s minds, voices, and hearts. She could hear emotions where others couldn’t even see them. It was obvious from her empathic nature that Fresca could, too. Thus, Jamie’s major in counseling seemed a perfect fit for the strengths of the woman and her guide.

  After returning to New Mexico, Jamie had a new resolve to finish her degree and to locate a graduate school to deepen her knowledge. With trying to stay fixated on that goal, one person, accompanied by his guide dog, kept returning and interrupting her life. Though she continued to emphasize that she was focused solely on her career, her unasked-for suitor was not going to give up. After all, he argued, their dogs loved each other and the animals should get to see each other from time to time. As happy as Fresca and Hathaway were to see each other on an even more regular basis, Jamie soon had to admit she was just as thrilled to be with Wayne. Still, it was difficult to think beyond just friendship.

  A part of her fear of giving in to love was lodged in the fact that two blind people would face obstacles that offered far more challenges and risks than climbing the mountains around her hometown. Could a relationship thrive under those conditions? Besides, there was also the question of value. No matter how many times she’d proved herself in school, without vision, could she fully measure up as a wife and mother?

  It was Fresca that supplied that answer and quelled her doubts. The dog had proved time and time again there was nothing Jamie couldn’t do or places she couldn’t go as long she had someone she trusted walking beside her. Time and time again the guide dog had proved she didn’t have to settle for anything. So thanks to the yellow Lab leading, the young woman allowed her emotions to trump the world’s perceptions. She would and could find a way to adapt; the sense she had lost was more than made up for by what she had gained. Thus, brimming with confidence, she made the choice to say yes to love.

  With Hathaway serving as the ring bearer, the two were married. Shocking everyone but their dogs, on their honeymoon in the Bahamas, the couple swam, parasailed, and explored. It was another new adventure, one that few would expect a blind couple to make; but thanks to their guide dogs and their own heightened senses, they “saw” the beauty and wonder of this new world while wrapped in the love that their canine matchmakers, Fresca and Hathaway, saw long before either of them did. It was the couple’s blindness, along with an assist supplied by a pair of four-pawed cupids, that made it all happen.

  Today Jamie and Wayne work in Austin, own a home, and have two children, Jordyn and Kamryn. Jamie is now being led by her third guide dog. Those dogs have been more than her eyes; they have also helped raise her children. Yet it was Jamie’s first dog, Fresca, that really changed everything. It was that yellow Lab that introduced her to her future husband, brought her to see a world with unlimited opportunity, expanded her friendships, and took her from her small New Mexico hometown to the center of the world’s most powerful government. In the process, the dreams that Joseph had for his daughter—dreams that once seemed crushed by a diagnosis of retinitis pigmentosa—were not just realized, they were exceeded.

  Team Potential

  Individual commitment to a group effort—that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work.

  Vince Lombardi

  A world without sound is a very lonely place. Not being able to hear a phone or a doorbell brings on a sense of isolation that few can imagine. The silence is overwhelming, and the fear that accompanies it can be numbing. Worst of all so many tend to judge harshly because they don’t understand that you simply can’t hear them when they call. That quiet isolation creates depression and crushes hope.

  Ames, Iowa, is a long way from Puerto Rico, but in the fall of 2002, this rural, midwestern college town was the most important place on earth for one eighteen-year-old woman. Cristina Saint-Blancard, a newly minted Iowa State University (ISU) freshman, was experiencing the rewards of devoting her time and effort to building an outstanding academic resume. The bright-eyed, attractive recent high school grad, whose smile lit up every room she entered and whose Puerto Rican accent was greeted with fascination in the middle of the corn belt, was ready and prepared to pursue a dream. She had not chosen an easy path to success, as she was seeking a degree in the male-dominated discipline of mechanical engineering.

  Cristina’s father, Alexander, an engineer, and mother, Teresa, a teacher, had long prayed their daughter would find an educational outlet that would challenge her to fully use her drive and talents, and ISU seemed the perfect answer to those prayers. Still, even after having their daughter settle into her new home at Friley Hall and easily make friends with everyone she met, the couple could not cast aside all their worries. Since early childhood, Cristina had been plagued by asthma and recurrent infections. At times the attacks were so severe that the child would get treated in the emergency room. In the past she had been fine because they were always there. But would she be able to handle an attack without them to help her? Would her new friends know what to do?

  Cristina’s first semester flew by. From pep rallies to football games to lab work, Cristina cherished each new experience. And even though her heavy course work was challenging, it still seemed as if she had been magically transported to a place filled with wonder and excitement. This seemed to be fully proved when she looked out her dormitory window and spied snow for the very first time in her life. With others looking at her as if she were crazy, the Puerto Rico native raced outside trying to catch the fluffy white flakes on her tongue. Giggling like a child, she made snow angels, built snowmen, and participated in a snowball fight. There was simply no way for her to explain that first winter adventure to her friends back home. She also found no words to tell her high school friends what it was like to experience four very different seasons.

  The joy of her four years in college and the bonds she made with her professors and fellow students ended much too quickly. Yet long nights in the library and more hours spent studying in her room had paid off. When she graduated in 2006, she was invited to Ohio State University for graduate school. Although she hated to leave behind the place that had been the bridge from youth to adulthood and had pushed her to seek her full potential, she couldn’t wait to attack the next step in what was proving to be an outstanding academic career.

  In many ways Columbus, Ohio, was not that much different from Ames. Both were communities built around a passion for their universities. School colors lined the streets, and everyone talked about the local teams. Thus, the transition was as smooth as her move to college. It is hardly surprising that the outgoing Cristina immediately found friends and carved out a place where she was comfortable. As she pursued her postgraduate degree in biomedical engineering, she did research in a hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit and became aware of the need for volunteers to rock infants born to drug addicts. Cristina was deeply drawn to the plight of children who were craving the same drugs their mothers used during pregnancy. Just the act of holding them brought out sincere empathy and deep compassion that were as elusive to explain as the way a snow
flake had felt on her tongue four years before. There was a draw in this work that touched her soul in ways she didn’t fully understand. And while her soft words and gentle touch brought a bit of peace to each child, holding them also gave her a sense of deep sadness. Through no fault of their own, they were struggling to survive. She couldn’t have guessed that she would soon find herself in the very same position.

  As weeks became months and scores of babies found comfort in the grad student’s arms, Cristina suddenly became sick. This was not just another asthma attack like she experienced in her youth; this was something much worse. Tests revealed a bacterial infection was waging war on her body. She had likely picked it up while volunteering to rock infants at the hospital. Admitted as a patient, she developed such a high fever that Cristina found herself fighting for her life. Thanks to her medical team and her own strength, she would win that battle, but the victory would come with a high cost. The vibrant young woman was now deaf. Too weak to continue her education and unprepared to cope with a life in a now-silent world, Cristina was forced to withdraw from school and move to Florida where her parents lived and could help her with her many hospitalizations.

  Initially Cristina figured that once she regained her strength and understood how to deal with deafness, her life would return to normal. Yet it was soon apparent the infection had created other serious and life-threatening problems. With no warning signs her vertigo was exacerbated. She could be walking through a room or carrying on a conversation when extreme dizziness would set in. For a few seconds the world would violently spin and then she’d pass out. In a period of months, because of the falls created by vertigo, she suffered several broken bones, concussions, and deep head wounds. She found herself in the emergency room so often that doctors and nurses knew her by sight. But the deafness and vertigo were just the beginning of her problems.