The Vanishing Tea Bag and Other Musings from a Typical Morning With Low Vision

(Note: Fans of the movie, “Inside Out”, I have a fun little story for you today! As you may know, the movie is based on “Internal Family Systems” a therapy model that invites you to go inward and explore how all the different parts of you are thinking and feeling. The movie depicted the parts as “emotions” like joy, anger, sadness and disgust, which is often how parts show up. In this short recap of my morning, I note the differences in how parts of me are feeling about the same situation.)

“Shall I bring my chai tea with me?” I pondered this morning (because one always uses words like ‘shall’ and ‘ponder’ at 7:15am while trying to get out the door to walk your 3rd grader to school). Anyone who uses a cane or guide dog understands the need for just ONE more hand to carry objects or hold the hand of your child since one hand is always grasping the handle of a cane or harness. But alas, there were no extra hands to be found, as my husband left early this morning and my daughter needed to pull her wheeled backpack on our 20 minute uphill route to school. Plus, I reminded myself, my daughter would not be with me on the way back down the hill after dropping her off at her classroom, so I really couldn’t ask her to carry anything extra.

It was the warm, smooth feel of the piping hot travel mug on a cool California morning that made the final decision. The mug of sweet, spicy chai with a slight boost of caffeine was coming with me. Sure, I would have no extra hand to leash cue my guide dog, check my phone (which lay snugly in my small crossover coin purse draped over my shoulders), nor press the traffic light button. And it would take some fancy handy-work to reach into my sweatshirt pocket for kibble to treat my guided dog, Roja, at corners. But having that steaming cup of tea on this gray morning would be worth it.

My 9-year-old, who transforms into a chatterbox of theories on everything from how french fries probably got their name to whether life on other planets exists, and I strolled casually up the hill, talking away. Until we were about 2 blocks from the school and realized we only had 5 minutes to make it the rest of the way. So we paused the philosophizing and started walking at a brisk pace.

After hugging her goodbye with 30 seconds to spare, Roja and I began the trek back home, and it was only then that I realized I hadn’t even taken a sip of my chai tea yet. Not wanting to waste my efforts, I decided I better make carrying it worth it and take a sip. Apparently it must be a very insulated travel mug, as the tea was still hot enough to burn my lip. I left the lid slightly open as I walked to help cool it down, splashing little bits of chai on myself as I walked. After several minutes, it was cool enough to sip (hooray!) It had also steeped for 25 minutes and was extremely strong. So I halted Roja again and took the tea bag out.

But what to do with the dripping wet tea bag? The lazy part of me was tempted to just toss it in the grass to the side of the walkway, but the conscientious part of me didn’t want to litter (plus, there were a million cars driving in and out of the school car line who could easily see me tossing trash to the side and pass judgment). Since I still didn’t have a 3rd hand to carry anything else with, I strategically maneuvered my fingers to grasp both the mug and the dripping tea bag at once. I was sure there would be a garbage can somewhere on the route home.

With mug, tea bag and harness handle in hands, Roja and I continued our walk down the hill. Until several steps later when Roja made it clear she needed to relieve. I carefully set down the mug and tea bag, lifted her harness off her and took her to the grassy area next to the sidewalk. Roja did her business and, after sniffing around for a couple minutes, was ready to work again. I picked up the tea bag, mug, harness handle and leash and headed for the stoplight, where I managed to drop the handle and hold the leash with my arm while pressing the walk signal. As we waited for the light to change, I felt my purse vibrating and realized I was getting a call. I knew I could ignore it but the anxious part of me that remembered how an ambulance came to the school just yesterday due to a playground injury didn’t want to miss the call. Again, I held the leash with my arm, fumbled to give Roja a quick treat for stopping at the corner, unzipped my little crossover purse and answered my phone. It was an ad. I quickly stuffed it back in, realizing it was time to cross the street, picked up the handle and gave Roja the forward command. Having walked this route many times, I knew there were garbage cans near the shops I was nearing but couldn’t remember exactly where.

“Roja, find garbage,” I said, not quite sure if we were that close to one. Apparently we were not, as she just kept walking. Then I remembered the garbage at the corner near the pool. “Roja right”

Finally, the garbage can was just steps away, and I could responsibly throw away my chai tea bag without littering. I dropped the leash handle for a moment and grabbed the long string dangling from the soggy mass. Only it slipped through my fingers on to the ground. For anyone with 180 degrees of vision, this little drop would be no big deal. You would simply glance down, pick up the tea bag, toss it in the can and be on your way. But for anyone with sight loss, you understand the utter frustration of kneeling down and feeling all around for something you JUST had, only to find it has vanished from existence. Seriously? Did I just walk 20 minutes downhill grasping this dripping thing so that I could properly dispose of it, only to drop it on a cement sidewalk where one of our many neighborhood dogs could come upon it and get ill from ingesting it. The irritated, impatient part of me just wanted to forget about it and walk home. Dogs eat weird crap all the time. Would a chai tea bag really be so bad?

But that annoying, responsible part of me who speaks up at the very worst times required me to keep kneeling, sweeping my hand all around me in search of the tea bag. I shifted my weight slightly to readjust and pick Roja’s leash back up, as she had started to wander and felt something under my foot. Could it be? Could this search finally be over so I could return home and get to work?

I was never so happy to feel a cold, damp clump in my hands!

I tossed it in the garbage, picked up the handle and walked home. As I walked in my front door, the same place where only about an hour earlier I had made the split second decision to bring my mug of tea with me, I took my 3rd sip of tea. “Totally worth it,” the grateful part of me thought. All other parts remained silent.