Miss-Delectable
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Blind, deaf and fearless
Organizers of the current United Way Campaign were looking for inspirational speakers and turned to Penny Leclair, who at first demurred, and then decide: What the heck? "Life doesn't scare me anymore. Whatever it is, I'll cope with it."
Penny is in her 50s, blind, deaf, and inspirational. Last week, she took her message to the Citizen's conference centre and gave the paper's staff a quick lesson in attitude. One of her listeners summed up the performance with one word. "Wow!"
Penny Donnelly was born blind. She also inherited a genetic weakness that caused her and her siblings to go deaf later in life. Her sister and two brothers had sight and as they slowly lost hearing, they learned to lip read.
"I was in my 40s and feared becoming another Helen Keller, and it scared the hell out of me."
She met her husband, David Leclair, in a school for the blind in Vancouver. She was in Grade 5 and he was a year ahead. "He's still my sweetheart." He has limited sight, and works in information technology. They have a 37-year-old son.
In 1997, David lost his job in Vancouver and found a new one it Ottawa. Penny, reliant on the Canadian National Institute for the Blind and its staff and volunteers in Vancouver, faced the prospect of moving to a new city.
"We didn't know anybody in Ontario." She wouldn't even be able to go for a walk in her new city. The only means of communication she had was through volunteers in Vancouver who knew the hand alphabet.
One of her best friends was also deaf and blind. She took Penny's hand and said to her, by hand alphabet: "Get over yourself and get on with it."
Penny Leclair hooked up with Ottawa CNIB, made new friends, found new facilitators, and the organization helped her become the first person who was blind and deaf to get a guide dog. That was after she was hit by a car while walking.
"They decided a white cane didn't make me visible enough. I wasn't badly hurt, but I was terrified."
The CNIB was instrumental in her being fitted with Cochlear implants three years ago. Sitting in her comfortable west-side home, communicating with her is easy, although she makes it clear she doesn't hear the way she used to. The implants are not referred to as hearing aids, but as "speech processors."
For one thing, there are no longer birds in her life. "When I realized I would never again hear the birds, I cried."
She doesn't cry long or often.
"Life just is. I have no right to get angry. You just accept what is, and make the best of it. You concentrate on what you can do. Forget what you can't do."
One of the things she thought she wouldn't be able to do was public speaking. "They asked me to start slowly. Speak to a few friends around a table. Then a few more people and a few more. Now I know I have things to say, and people who want to hear me. I'm comfortable.
"Now that I can communicate again (with the implants), it's as if every day is Christmas. When I arrived in Ottawa, I couldn't communicate at all. Once I could communicate, I felt I owed it to get up and do my part. I have used so many of the services supported by the United Way, I have a chance to let people see just how important it is to support the campaign and the agencies it supports.
"Everybody fears the unknown, and the move to Ottawa frightened me. I got past it. The unknown doesn't frighten me anymore. What I tell myself is: OK, there's something I have to do. Give me a little time. I'll find a way. I'll deal with it."
Then she paused, and her facial expression said there was a problem. "Driving lessons. I'm still working on that one."
Her one-man audience laughed, and she joined in.
"Nobody can show you how to deal with a disability. You have to figure it out. Disabled people become problem solvers, and that is the primary quality needed to lead. Disabled people, I believe, develop leadership qualities.
"You have to take the word 'can't' out of your vocabulary. You learn to say: 'OK, give me some time and I'll find a way'." She grins: "I really wonder about driving. I'd like to know what it feels like to control that kind of power."
Organizers of the current United Way Campaign were looking for inspirational speakers and turned to Penny Leclair, who at first demurred, and then decide: What the heck? "Life doesn't scare me anymore. Whatever it is, I'll cope with it."
Penny is in her 50s, blind, deaf, and inspirational. Last week, she took her message to the Citizen's conference centre and gave the paper's staff a quick lesson in attitude. One of her listeners summed up the performance with one word. "Wow!"
Penny Donnelly was born blind. She also inherited a genetic weakness that caused her and her siblings to go deaf later in life. Her sister and two brothers had sight and as they slowly lost hearing, they learned to lip read.
"I was in my 40s and feared becoming another Helen Keller, and it scared the hell out of me."
She met her husband, David Leclair, in a school for the blind in Vancouver. She was in Grade 5 and he was a year ahead. "He's still my sweetheart." He has limited sight, and works in information technology. They have a 37-year-old son.
In 1997, David lost his job in Vancouver and found a new one it Ottawa. Penny, reliant on the Canadian National Institute for the Blind and its staff and volunteers in Vancouver, faced the prospect of moving to a new city.
"We didn't know anybody in Ontario." She wouldn't even be able to go for a walk in her new city. The only means of communication she had was through volunteers in Vancouver who knew the hand alphabet.
One of her best friends was also deaf and blind. She took Penny's hand and said to her, by hand alphabet: "Get over yourself and get on with it."
Penny Leclair hooked up with Ottawa CNIB, made new friends, found new facilitators, and the organization helped her become the first person who was blind and deaf to get a guide dog. That was after she was hit by a car while walking.
"They decided a white cane didn't make me visible enough. I wasn't badly hurt, but I was terrified."
The CNIB was instrumental in her being fitted with Cochlear implants three years ago. Sitting in her comfortable west-side home, communicating with her is easy, although she makes it clear she doesn't hear the way she used to. The implants are not referred to as hearing aids, but as "speech processors."
For one thing, there are no longer birds in her life. "When I realized I would never again hear the birds, I cried."
She doesn't cry long or often.
"Life just is. I have no right to get angry. You just accept what is, and make the best of it. You concentrate on what you can do. Forget what you can't do."
One of the things she thought she wouldn't be able to do was public speaking. "They asked me to start slowly. Speak to a few friends around a table. Then a few more people and a few more. Now I know I have things to say, and people who want to hear me. I'm comfortable.
"Now that I can communicate again (with the implants), it's as if every day is Christmas. When I arrived in Ottawa, I couldn't communicate at all. Once I could communicate, I felt I owed it to get up and do my part. I have used so many of the services supported by the United Way, I have a chance to let people see just how important it is to support the campaign and the agencies it supports.
"Everybody fears the unknown, and the move to Ottawa frightened me. I got past it. The unknown doesn't frighten me anymore. What I tell myself is: OK, there's something I have to do. Give me a little time. I'll find a way. I'll deal with it."
Then she paused, and her facial expression said there was a problem. "Driving lessons. I'm still working on that one."
Her one-man audience laughed, and she joined in.
"Nobody can show you how to deal with a disability. You have to figure it out. Disabled people become problem solvers, and that is the primary quality needed to lead. Disabled people, I believe, develop leadership qualities.
"You have to take the word 'can't' out of your vocabulary. You learn to say: 'OK, give me some time and I'll find a way'." She grins: "I really wonder about driving. I'd like to know what it feels like to control that kind of power."