So, what’s next

Well all, it has not been an easy journey to where I have got now. I am still struggling for funding to get to university in preston. What would I give, to get there, and do what I am setting out to do, to do the BSC (hons) in Neuropsychology, then an MSC, and hopefully, a PHD. Eventually, should I get there, I will reach my goal, to be a contributing member of society, not a person, living on government benefits, but a person giving back, to help others. Help others in my situation, who have disabilities, (challenges) and/or neurological problems. for reasons I will not go intoo on here, as it is public, I have set up a crowdfunding page. Please feel free to look at it and share it. The link is as follows:
I'm not wanting to sound like I'm begging, nor money grabbing, as some have put it. All I want, is to achieve, and to help others. I do not want to be a statistic. Now also, comes the anxious wait for results, but on a more exciting note, an information visit to Preston, where hopefully, I will get lots of questions answered. Thank you for reading this rather short update. On a side note, I am liking the new wordpress editor on this IPhone application. ☺️

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Testing times

A monday morning, and the sun is shining brightly over the rooftops of Douglas. A person wakes from her slumber, and comes downstairs, makes breakfast, and has her antiepilepsy meds. Yes, another day begins, but one that is to herald the start of an interesting week, one filled with surprising results, and also, a week, that will change her life completely.
2 hours later, and she is being transported, to a flat in the north of the island, where she will reside for the next week, as a test, to see if she can cope with the stresses, and challenges that independence can bring. Upon arrival, she was met by staff, who explained protocol, and gave her a tour, as well as keyfobs, and the assistance pendant. It was time to go shopping.
After heading down the unfamiliar streets, that had only been walked through once by her rehab officer, they headed down into the supermarket, to buy her weekly goods. Milk, butter, yoghurt, grapes, biscuits, quavers, were a few of the things listed. 
They arrived back at the unit, and her support worker, left her. This was the start of the emotional journy, that would bring back many nasty memories, as well as anxieties. Memories of separation, of being left at RNC, for the first time, the dropoffs every term, and the moments she’d hear her nan’s voice, but could not reach her. She was too far away. Hundreds of miles away. Sitting down, after tea on her first night, and a somewhat nerve-racking experience, she burst into tears. The sound of the television, of the buzzing of the lights, of the clock on the wall, ticking monotonously in 4,4 time. 1, 2, 1, 2, like a metronome. At 60 BPM. The sounds from outside her door all too real, and too loud, and too present. People coming and going, keys, doors, televisions, birds, and the wind. The silence, was no silence, not really, but a multitude of noise, ever present, and ever real, but still there somehow, managed to be silence. Somehow, it was there, but even that, was too loud. Trying to facetime her nan, unsuccessfully, she tried and tried, but it kept dropping. After a while, she slowly, and surely, recovered. Pulling herself out of the multitude of noise surrounding her, she walked to the kettle, to make a cup of tea, which she attempted, and achieved, with no accidents.
The first night, she awoke at 12:30 AM with a pounding headache. Water was needed, so she went to get some, and knocked the whole lot back.
if she thought the second day, and the third, would get any easier, she was right. However, on her last, she became agitated, and teary once more. That though, was due to er being nervous, of doing an unknown route, yet again. Tears streaming down her face, in the middle of her rifle shooting competition, she was ready for giving up, but was urdged not too. Almost overwhelmed, she sat, trying to calm herself, but rather unsuccessfully. Finally, she managed, and as well as that, managed to arrive back to the flat. 
If this is a taste, of university life, for getting my career at the end, I will sacrifice it. I will make that choice.
I made a good fiew friends, one of whom, I will stay in touch with. It’s been a rather humbling, and at times, testing experience.

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The leap of faith

2008, and a lady was about to meet two people, one without vision, and the other, a very protective person, who would, undoubtedly worry for her granddaughter. What this lady did not know, as she was travelling in her car, to the highschool, is that she’d have battles to fight, not with one, but both of them in the months and years to come. Not just that, this girl, with no vision, who had not been allowed to use a cane until now, the age of 15, was about to give everyone, a taste of strong-willed determination, that may lead her into some dangerous, and some good teretory. She was about to go on her first mobility lesson, and this was to be learning how to use the cane, a long white cane, with a ball on the end. 
A few months later, and after constant battles with her, over practising the route they were doing, the small 15 year-old, now 16, was off, on her own. Suddenly, someone notices, she is veering away from the tactiles, and into the main road. Running to stop her, the lady asks her, what she’d done wrong.
Years later, and the now 24 year-old, after coming through struggles of being diagnosed with epilepsy, stripping her of her confidence, and also not practising her routes, nor living skills, finally, could someone, an unlikely group of people, have come to her rescue at just the right time? Come to her familys’ rescue? Come to most importantly, her nan’s rescue? This group, The VIP Lounge, a group, who strives for the independence and confidence to shine in visually impaired people around the country. A group, who will stop at nothing, to get them the independence skills, and help they require, while also helping the indevidual to build their confidence, and social skills. While sometimes facing rebellion from either family members, or the indeviduals themselves, it does not bother them, it does not phase them. They still strive to help them, and do not give up, until success is achieved. This group, came to her rescue, and have now begun working with her, her nan, and other various people, to help her in her endeavours. It will be no cruise, no easy ride, no smooth seas. There will be storms to weather, and arguments, possibley frustration from this person, this person being me, but I shall have to deal with whatever challenges are thrown at me, with grace and dignity, and most of all, acceptance. The existential view, that life, well and truely does, have a meaning, behind everything. Behind every page in the book, there’s a piece of prose, behind every piece of prose, lies the question, and behind that, the essay of which, is your answer.
Now, I must take that leap of faith, off that cliff edge, with my metaphoric carabiner, attached to an absaling rope, and see where I freefall, either down to an abiss below, or I will manage to get myself over to the other face, where I will climb to the top, having reached my goal of becoming a neuropsychologist. Before that though, there is that leap of faith, and I have no choice, but to leap into the unknown, but embrace it, and brace myself, for anything life throws at me. 

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What does the future hold.

A journey back to 2004.
It’s her first day in highschool, and a small 11 year-old student, is walking up the corridor that she’s spent the best part of all summer learning. She was on a schedule. It was morning, 09:45 hours, and she had to be at tutorial, for 09:50 hours. That would take 5 minutes to get there. Through the narrow furnished corridor, with wooden panels she walked, straight ahead, down another long straight corridor, with the turning on the right, that took you to the library, and also through some double doors, to 2 stairwells, one going to the unit for cognitively impaired, and the other, down to the German rooms. They occasionally smelled of food. As the year went on, she carried on through her classes, but began to notice, there was something she excelled at. That was anatomy. She has always had an interest in medicine, right from the age of about 3, from getting a stethescope at the age of 5, from her GP, and letting her feel tools that were being used, as well as questioning everyone when she went for various checkups.
A few years later, and the rain is falling on the roof of the entrance hall. She is waiting for an interview with a careers advisor, but that will not go to plan, (see blog post further down my archive) So far, she has failed her first mock examinations, is not completing homework and, if she can, doing the bare minimum of work possible.
Finally her GCSEs were done, and it was crunch time. Had she passed, or not. The answer, she had only scraped 2, and failed the rest. Or, passed, but with very low marks. Now she was destined for the local colledge, which she thought would be a rather good afair, as she would not have to do so much accademic work, but unfortunately, her social skills, let her down. Later, she went to the colledge in the UK, which would be where she would discover the Open University.
But what careers had she imagined herself having? An instantanious language interpretor, perhaps a singer, perhaps a medical secretary, general secretary, when she was younger, a doctor, or a nurse, even a ward sister, now a psychologist,/counsellor, or, a speech and language therapist, but hang on, what was this that was starting to interest her? Neuroscience? How could she possibley be a neuropsychologist? She began emailing various people, researching the career specifications, reading up on the job role, reading up on qualifications, when finally, she had decided, that was to be her career aspiration, a neuropsychologist. All she had to do, was make history, by trying to become the first blind neuropsychologist in the Uk, if not the world. They say people love those who try, so why not. If you don’t try, you will never know.   

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Progress update

It’s been a few days, and you’ll probably be wanting an update. I have been researching degrees, and universities, and the best one, is either MMU, or Shefield. MMU is looking more likely though. There is just one small, but for me, large problem. I don’t have a mathematics GCSE at grade C. Maths was never my strong point. What may go in my favour though, is my open university modules. The person that is helping me, has also recommended finding a placement, in the likes of the local hospital, or private practice, in order to observe what an SLT does. This I too have researched, and found one already willing to offer her help, the other seems very informal, and very warm, welcoming, which seems encouraging. I would love to apply for the degree earlier than when I’m 26, as there will be a lot of complications, if that doesn’t happen, and I have to wait until then. I wonder how the next week will go. We’ll have to see. I will try and bring you updates. 

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The true blind experience

Here we are, on yet another topic I feel must be addressed. You all go to an awareness raising session, devoted to blindness, and the different eye conditions there are. What organisations like the RNIB fail to mention, is that wearing what they call simi-specs, a type of lens that simulates the eye condition, is not the same as being truely blind, nor is walking a route, having known it all your life through vision. Imagine the following.
You have not seen anything all your life, no light, nothing. Every day, you have to learn routes, but all by feel. You have to memorise each landmark, each tactile road crossing, each grass verge, everything. As sighted people, you have visual references, for example, the colour of the ground, and any other references. Even if you were blind-folded, you would still know the route, because the memory of the visual route would be stored within your hippocampus, the area of the brain, situated in the temporal lobe, that deals with memory,. You would automatically know where you were going, so being blind-folded, and thinking you are doing a good thing, by simulating blindness that way, in actual fact, is wrong, and should not be done. If you wish to simulate it properly, take the sighted person, who is blind-folded, into an area that is unknown to them, then instruct them on how to use a cane. Whilst RNIB would frown upon this, I do not care. This is how to show people what living in our world, is truely like. If you wish, get a rehab officer from RNIB, to instruct them, on cane technique, as they would us. It is important for the sighted person to remember however, that the soul purpose of learning this cane technique, is soly for the purpose of the experieence, and under no circumstances, should they then try and transfer their skills to a blind person, without rehab training. They would have to undergo a rehabilitation course, and be certified as a rehabilitation officer, before they can attempt such teaching.

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A follow-up

Regarding my last post on my career change, to speech and language, I too had slight problems of my own when I was younger. The first, I could not say words with the letter L. I would always compensate them for the letter N. In order to combat this problem, my granddad, who sung opera, though not professionally, decided to try and help me. We began a regime of exercises with my tongue,, some of which involved singing, both solo and in harmony, as I too was a singer. We’d discovered not just my piano tallents, but my ability to sing soprano, with no struggle. My granddad would say: “put your tongue in the N position, then move it more to the front of your mouth, just behind the top teeth, under the roof of your mouth, then it should sound like L.” I kept trying, but most times, failing. After a while, and numerous attempts, I succeeded. The second problem, the more frustrating issue I faced, came much later, when I began studying voice formally. I had serious jaw tention. If I was going to sing well, and in the correct belcanto (beautiful singing) technique, this had to be sorted, and quickly. I also had problems with understanding the concept of using my soft pallet, and allowing it to raise. This was not happening, causing the sound to go back, and close. It was also causing my jaw to clench, and my neck to tighten. This was also not good. There were numerous times, I would cry with frustration as I was struggling, but it was when a teacher, by the name of Miss Deledesma, endevoured to explain it to me. I was studying in Hereford at the time, and had just had my voice ruined, and confidence destroyed a previous teacher who worked there. One day, while singing in a concert, the lady heard me and came up to me. Her observations, were that I had a large voice, and that I was holding it back. Finally, after a lot of explaining, through touch, on my part, and exercises, I understood. Now, I wish to utalise my skills, in order to help people with the likes of aphasia, (difficulty getting words out, as well as understanding) people with head injuries, and cerebral palsy. So yes, I can at least, have some empathy. 

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