This 21-year-old is slowly losing her sight, but she can see the big picture
Story by Matt Goul
Photos by Elizabeth Coz
Jennifer Kennedy reads her books, looks over her notes and chats with her friends on instant messenger.
She just does it with the aid of magnification.
Kennedy is legally blind. But that does not keep her from doing what she wants to do, such as being president of her hall council.
Kennedy’s blindness is a progression from a condition called Uveitis, the inflammation of the uvea – a pigmented layer of the iris. She says she could eventually lose her sight completely, but her doctors aren’t sure. All she knows is that it can’t improve.
Sometimes her vision slips in increments, but Kennedy’s largest loss of sight was at 14 years old—when she was declared legally blind.
“It was unbelievably frustrating,” Kennedy says. “It’s not so bad when it’s gradual, but to almost go in less than a couple weeks and just notice that so much more is different, you’re like, ‘aw’!”
That difference could be as simple as reading type. In a matter of weeks, Kennedy may not be able to read a sign, writing in a book or type on a computer as easily she did the week before.
“I can tell you that I see a lot worse than I did a year ago,” she says. “You just notice more and more things are becoming less clearer that you saw before.”
Kennedy says the initial sign of sight loss happened when she was 5, but it wasn’t a major concern because she didn’t get permanent damage.
Years later, that changed.
“All of a sudden, stuff like blackboards I couldn’t make out anymore,” she says. “I noticed I couldn’t see a guy’s hand when he was waving at me.”
She says the adjustment process was tough and frustrating, but she has successfully adjusted. She now uses a cane as an extension of her senses to make up for the loss of sight.
Adjusting to a new environment at Kent State was another hurdle of adjusting for Kennedy, adding that familiarity of the campus is critical. Adding snow and ice to the hilly campus, and an the task becomes more difficult.
But Kennedy says it’s not that bad.
“I can probably tell when there’s ice and where there’s a slippery spot before you can,” she says, walking down an incline compacted with snow and ice with her cane.
Falling doesn’t worry her.
“If I fall, I’ll just let it happen,” she says. “I’ll land a lot better than someone who tries to stop themselves in the act and makes it worse.”
Because of obstacles like this, Kennedy is now a tactful veteran in overcoming her disadvantages.
Kennedy, who graduated from Orrville High School in 2001, says she went from the only blind person in school to just another person, which was a positive change.
“I was in these huge classes with more people than I graduated with,” she says. “I was definitely scared of cafeterias, and I used the SDS office like it was my job.”
Amy Quillin, a disabilities specialist/coordinator with Student Disability Services, says the transition from high school to college can be especially tough for a student with a disability like.
“Particularly if they come from small schools, they’re the only one there,” Quillin says. “If they have a visible disability, they tend to stand out. You have more anonymity than being singled out when you come to college.”
Kennedy says she would allow others help her learn the campus and to rely on them, but she got to a point where enough was enough.
“Little by little, you let go of things you can’t do, then all of a sudden you realize I’m not doing anything anymore,” she says. “You just kind of get tired of it, and you realize there’s got to be a way to do it. And I’m going to find a way. You have to get to a frustrating level before you’re willing to learn the best way to do it.”
This hasn’t kept Kennedy from getting involved with what’s important to her. With the National Federation of the Blind, she has traveled to Washington three times to work on legislation dealing with the blind. She is president of the Ohio Association of Blind Students. She is also involved with Kappa Phi at Kent State.
All of Kennedy’s accomplishments don’t surprise her boyfriend, Dan Ashman, also a Kent State student. He says Kennedy has a take-charge personality and her determination to finish projects is why she is involved with so many groups.
“You could take over anything you wanted,” he says to her jokingly and serious at the same time. “All you need to do is get involved and you end up working your way up.”
Kennedy says coming to Kent State and not being the only person with a disability helped her to adjust to college life.
“You blended in a lot more. It wasn’t people necessarily knew you because you were blind,” she says. “I’d go to class and I was passing other people in wheel chairs. So it was like, ‘eh, I’m another person.’”
But during her second semester, Kennedy wasn’t like everyone else. She was forced to withdraw from the university because her sight got worse.
“I lost so much sight, I couldn’t do class work anymore,” she says.
She returned to Kent State in the fall of 2003 with her sight now at a 2-degree field.
“I have tunnel vision,” she says. “The very edges are fuzzy and the rest is just dark, if you go out further. My one eye is 20/70, so I can see very clearly from that side. I just don’t see that much of it. The other side is just shapes and colors.”
Kennedy says her vision is somewhat like a puzzle.
“You have to try to piece things together, because you can only see a little bit at a time,” she says. “When you’re walking around, you have to find one focal point and kind of go to there because you can’t make everything else.”
With her lack vision making movement more difficult, Kennedy says she won’t it let keep her down.
“There is very little I don’t do. I still Rollerblade, I still bowl, I go barhopping,” she says. “I go to the theater – it’s one of my favorite things to do.
“My philosophy is seize the day and live it to its fullest, otherwise you’re just wasting time. Existing to me is not an option.”
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