[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr

The

Braille Monitor

October,

2003

(back)(next)(contents)

Medical Doctor Takes

Up Braille after Retirement

by

Dr. Hilary Connor

From The Editor: The

following article first appeared in the Summer 2003 issue of the Braille

Spectator, the publication of the National Federation of the Blind of Maryland.

It begins with Editor Al Maneki's head note:

Dr.

Hilary Connor

Dr. Hilary Connor is eighty-one

years old and still going strong. He was born in Rhode Island and served as

an officer in the Navy during World War II, where he met his future wife, a

Navy nurse. He completed his medical residency after World War II. His long

medical career included seventeen years in private practice as a pediatrician,

followed by many years in the U.S. Public Health Service, where he began working

with Native Americans on their reservations in the West. His long and distinguished

career culminated in eight years of service as the director of the State Board

of Medicine of Virginia. Dr. Connor tells us that after retirement he and his

wife decided to live in Maryland so that they could be at the focus of their

four children, who are scattered up and down the East Coast. In this poignant

article Dr. Connor explains that he suddenly became blind after retirement.

Although he did not know us at that time, he responded to this dramatic change

in true Federation spirit. The story of his blindness can serve as an inspiration

to all of us. This is what he says:

I spent many years in the

clinical practice of medicine. The last eight years of my full-time activity

was spent as the director of the State Board of Medicine of Virginia. At the

age of seventy-three, I decided to retire and move to Maryland.

Shortly

after retirement I realized that I couldn't sit around and just do nothing,

so I agreed to work two days a week as a consultant to the State Board of Medicine

of Maryland. But six months after I retired, in January of '95, I had an attack

of temporal arteritis, an autoimmune disease, and in a matter of days I went

from 20/20 vision to total blindness. I watched the Super Bowl Sunday night;

I was totally blind on Tuesday morning. A week later, when I left the hospital,

I returned to the office to close out my desk. My wife took me there, and the

physicians on the board asked that I stay on, saying that they would hire a

reader to read the cases to me so that I could continue to consult with them.

I explained that my wife had been a nurse and that she could read the cases

to me. So I continued to work for another two years, reviewing the cases, having

my laptop read me the research, and then attending the sessions and meeting

with the board members.

But

at the age of seventy-five I decided that I'd really had enough and it was time

to retire, so I did. Upon retirement I realized that I needed to do more than

just listen to the radio. I went to the National Federation of the Blind headquarters,

where I had originally gone to get a cane two years before. This time I asked

them to give me some information about how I could learn to read Braille. They

referred me to Blind Industries [Blind Industries and Services of Maryland],

and I again went over there and met with Ellen Ringlein, who was teaching Braille.

I explained that I didn't really want to take daily lessons or be on a schedule,

but, if she would give me the books they used to teach Braille, I would teach

myself at home. She agreed and gave me the first of the three volumes that I

used in learning Braille.

I

went home, and, since I had a lot of time to spend on it, I really went at it

like an eager beaver and finished the first book, picked up the second, finished

the second, and picked up the third. In the meantime every so often the phone

would ring, and it would be Ellen checking on me to make sure that I hadn't

quit, that I was still going.

Eventually

I finished and then headed to the Library for the Blind, where I had been going

to pick up cassette books to listen to and now started getting novels in Braille.

I still remember my first novel in Braille, The Secret of Snake Canyon.

It was a cowboy mystery. Since that day I have never been without a Braille

book or novel from the library--best-sellers, mostly spy stories and adventure

stories. I've had enough technical stuff all my life that I don't need to continue

with it at this point although I still take continuing medical education courses.

I

finally realized that, even though I know Braille, I am not a fast reader and

never will be. I read with my left hand because I injured my neck years ago

and the sensation in my right hand was approximately half of what it was in

the left. So I read with my left hand. I decided that maybe I could use my Braille

for some other purposes besides my own satisfaction. I went to the veterans

hospital to see if they could use a volunteer. Since I am totally blind, I obviously

couldn't wheel patients around or things like that, but I said I could teach

Braille to blind people if they were interested, and they were. So I have started

teaching Braille.

I

go over to the veterans hospital two days a week. I've been doing this for three

to five years now. My students are old codgers just like me. Fortunately the

number of young blind veterans is a small percentage of the older ones, and

all the students I have had so far have been in their seventies. The two I have

now are seventy-four and seventy-nine years old. The seventy-nine-year-old is

very fortunate in that his tactile sensation is fantastic. He can feel the dots

beautifully. He has no neuropathy. He has the time to spend on Braille, so he's

moving along very rapidly. Some of the others have had to drop out because of

illness. But we are in no hurry. We go along at our own pace. If someone's got

a medical appointment, we just cancel our meeting. Frequently they call me at

home if they've missed a period of time, and we spend an hour on the phone.

I have the book. I pick it up, and we just sit there and read it over the telephone.

We're

moving along at our own pace, and I find it extremely enjoyable. I have always

enjoyed teaching. I enjoyed teaching interns, residents, and medical students,

and I find that these elderly men who are interested in Braille are easy students.

They're anxious to learn. They're not in a tremendous hurry. They know that

it's going to take a little while, and they're patient. I have enjoyed my meetings

of the National Federation of the Blind. When I first became blind, the thing

that saved me from falling into a deep depression was continuing to work. Let's

face it: you can't become blind like that and not be unbelievably depressed.

But I continued to work, and that gave me something to do so that I didn't get

wound up in self-pity. When I listen to people at NFB meetings, I find people

there who have other problems along with their blindness. While they may complain

about transportation, mail delivery, and garbage pickup, nobody's complaining

about being blind. There's not a lot of that, hardly any of that as a matter

of fact, and I think that helps me considerably too. I realized that I'm not

alone.

Now

at eighty-one it's fortunate for me that the veterans hospital is only about

eleven blocks from where I live, and my wife walks there with me. It's a good

way of getting exercise. She also walks with me to other places, so we average

about three miles a day. This is something that we both need, because she's

almost as old as I am.

I also believe that there's

more to Braille then just being able to sit down and read or write something,

especially for the elderly. I think the elderly need Braille to keep their minds

active. Reading Braille is very precise. It's not like French or other languages,

where there are always exceptions to the rules. Braille is cut-and-dried. It's

going to be the same tomorrow as it is today. Any blind person with average

intelligence and enough tactile sensation to feel the dots should learn Braille.

To my way of thinking, Braille is the second most important thing for blind

people. Obviously traveling with the white cane is the most important thing

there is.

(back)(next)(contents)