Group guides blind community

The word "see" takes on many different meanings for the blind.

One meaning is "to understand," and that can be hard for someone recently afflicted with blindness. Transportation. Reading. Writing. Surfing the Internet. Cooking. Everything changes.

In 1997, Jean Peyton and four co-creators started Blindconnect, "a central point of entry" for people dealing with blindness for the first time or those dealing with Nevada's services for the blind.

"When you're diagnosed with blindness É most people don't know what that means or how it translates. They go into panic mode," Peyton said. "I've tried to give back to the community by working in the blind community."

Most questions are asked via telephone, but a new office on the Community College of Southern Nevada's West Charleston campus, 6375 W. Charleston Blvd., allows volunteers to demonstrate adaptive equipment and hand out brochures in person.

"If you just lost your vision, you don't know what you need," Peyton added. "If you get to us, we'll get you where you need to be. If we can refer you to a person, we'll do that."

Peyton was diagnosed with macular degeneration in 1993, and in six months went from corrected vision to legal blindness. She passed as a sighted person for 18 months before she retired and moved to Las Vegas with her husband. The new environment made being blind even more confusing.

She finally found information and went through the state to gain services. She learned how to use a cane and adopted Lander, her guide dog. There were still unanswered questions.

"I signed up to learn to read Braille because I thought all blind people read Braille," Peyton said. "Wrong."

Peyton, and other board members and volunteers, want to make sure the public is more educated than they were when first diagnosed with blindness. Blindconnect also is there to show blind people are leading their lives.

"When you lose your vision, you lose a lot of self worth and self confidence. When someone wants to do something for you, it's easier to say `OK' than `I need to do it myself,' " Peyton said. "You can see people out doing stuff. We talk about that. We talk about how angry you get, how frustrated you get.

"They can see there is hope."

Al Treise lost his site completely overnight while in the hospital four years ago.

"We had no idea where to go, what to do, who to turn to," Treise said. "The lights went out, and I lost my job."

Karen Treise, Al's wife, found Blindconnect in the phone book. Today, Al Treise is one of the organization's board members.

"It got me out of my shell," he said of Blindconnect. "It's like anything else. I could've had cancer. I could've gone deaf. It is what you make of it really.

"There's a lot worse things than being blind."

Treise has a computer program that reads everything on the screen. Instead of a mouse, he uses keystrokes. And he can bound up and down stairs faster now than he did before. A bar code reader helps him label his CDs, canned food and anything else he needs to track.

Finding the sun in the sky helps him with direction. The feeling of asphalt or cement helps him keep his course.

The transition was more difficult for his wife, Al said. Blindconnect can help with spouse adjustment as well.

Blindconnect doesn't typically facilitate programming, but professional-led and informal support groups for the blind and their spouses are starting soon, Peyton said.

More than 10 years after her diagnosis, even Peyton still gets frustrated.

"Why can't I do things how I want to do them?" she said. "Then I say, `Get on with your life.' "

Those interested in Blindconnect can visit the Web site at blindconnect.org or call 631-9009.


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