BOOK EXCERPT: Catherine Allard's Becoming Comfortably Numb charts a 40-year journey through disability

Article content

At 27, Catherine Allard suffered a life-changing stroke. In her new book, Becoming Comfortably Numb: a Memoir on Brain-Mending, the Ottawa-area resident writes about her struggle to return to a career and family life, even after a second, more serious stroke. Following is an excerpt:

Chapter 19: A token appointment, Justice from Justice

By 1996, six years after my second stroke, I had regained so much resilience after Botox injections in my twisted right foot relaxed it enough to reduce the slamming pain when walking with a brace. That was enough for me to once again start thinking about trying to reboot my communications career.

I already knew I could not sustain working full time. I needed to be up-front about my disabilities, since they were mostly invisible. The last thing any manager wants is to find out they’ve hired a “problem” employee, or invest in someone who might produce less because of their “condition.” People with disabilities have to work harder at everything.

I was fortunate to live in Canada’s capital because of its rich, federal public service communications environment. While I loved my short stint as a freelance writer with several departments before my second stroke, I now needed stability and security, not just financially, but also in my regular day-to-day routine. I needed an environment where I would be able to factor in all the extra energy requirements just to make it into the office, work all day (with perhaps a 20-minute meditative lie-down somewhere quiet, like in a nurse’s office, maybe), then make it back home in one piece. And that’s a hard sell for a communications gig, which often involves last-minute publication deadlines, not to mention media, political and public relations crises.

The federal public service was the only environment I targeted, because it was officially committed to respecting differences and increasing diversity.?In my inquiry letters,?I initially stated that three days a week would be my maximum.

However, after a month, there were no responses to my numerous applications. I had to rethink my strategy.

After sending follow-up letters in which I stated that I would consider a four-day work week, I got a call back from Karen Laughlin, Director General of Communications at Justice Canada.

And it changed my life.

For the interview, I wore an outfit that concealed my brace because I didn’t want anyone to see it right away. Some people show surprise, discomfort or even a hint of aversion upon first seeing it. And for a prospective employer, I feared it could potentially generate false perceptions, or distract them with sympathy and therefore, increase doubt about my capabilities.

“I’ll be honest with you, it wasn’t your writing that impressed me,” Karen told me. “It’s that you have disabilities, and we need to help you get back into the workforce. I’ve worked with Terry Fox, so I have some understanding about the difficulties you face.”

Essentially, she was telling me that I would be a “token” hire, but even though that term can sound a bit negative, I didn’t see it that way. Karen was telling me that she wanted to give me the rights and opportunities that I could be denied elsewhere.

“Here’s what I can offer you,” she continued. “We’ll hire you as a full-time, term employee for the first three months, so you can get established, and then you can go down to a four-day work week.”

She offered me the position of editor of Justice Canada’s employee newsletter,?inter pares, replacing local author Clive Doucet. He had just won a seat in the 1997 City of Ottawa election as councillor for Capital Ward. And the position was mid-level! Back in 1976, when I was slogging it out at Health Canada as a secretary in media relations, I remember gazing mournfully at the press officers and thinking that without a degree, I could never have a chance to do what they did. Now, after everything I had gone through, this was the opportunity of my dreams.

Karen then said, “I know I’m not supposed to ask you this, and you don’t have to answer, vis-à-vis your right to privacy, but what are your disabilities?”

Yay! She realizes that appearing “normal” doesn’t mean you’re like everybody else …

“I used to be right-handed, but I’m now left- handed, I wear a brace on my right leg, and have reduced mobility and altered sensation (constant burning) on my entire right side.”

***

One of my biggest thrills was interviewing then-minister of justice Irwin Cotler in his House of Commons office in 2004. His achievements while minister of justice included crafting the Civil Marriage Act, the first-ever legislation to grant marriage equality to gays and lesbians. He also initiated the first-ever law in Canada on human trafficking and introduced our first national initiative against racism and hate. He also overturned more wrongful convictions in one year than any previous minister of justice.

Another contribution that brings me pride was helping organize a tribute for the unveiling of a monument honouring Henriette Bourque, the first female lawyer to work at the Department of Justice, from 1939 to 1949. Her son, Dr. Pierre Bourque, a neurologist at the Ottawa Hospital, was delighted to attend the ceremony, and I was happily surprised to receive a letter of appreciation from then-deputy minister Morris Rosenberg for my efforts.

Perhaps the most gratifying experience during my decade at Justice was my time as a volunteer with the deputy minister’s Advisory Committee on Persons with Disabilities (ACPD). Its members, many of whom were senior Justice executives, were delighted to have a representative from internal communications to help spread the word about their work and give them guidance from a communications perspective.

Justice lawyer Carole Théberge, Chair of the ACPD, also had a personal stake in the committee. This cheerful woman, who was profoundly hard of hearing, quietly understood and accepted the extra difficulties that people with disabilities have in representing themselves on an even keel with others. I will never forget the tiny, bespectacled attorney from Legal Services who floated into the conference room one day to give a presentation, quickly seating herself, with an almost invisible assistant right behind her.

She had no arms.

Her assistant placed a report in front of her. She was turning the pages with her teeth. Between breaths. Continuing her discourse.?Hardly a pause.

Now?there?was a woman with determination.

After 12 wonderful years at Justice, I retired in 2009, just before the onslaught of social media. Lucky me.

Now retired and a proud grandmother, Catherine Allard lives in the Ottawa area with her husband. Becoming Comfortably Numb is available at Books on Beechwood, Singing Pebble Books on Main Street or Amazon. Ten per cent of proceeds will be donated to Bruyère Continuing Care.