Blinded By My Own Selfishness

Sometimes life has a way of gently reminding us that things may not be perfect in our life, but they could be far worse.  I spent my morning at the Dermatology Department of Rush University.  Over the summer, my primacy care doctor noticed a couple suspicious looking moles on my back and referred me to Rush.  With my fair and freckly skin, I'm apparently more at-risk for melanoma that your average Joe Suntan.  I had to wait two-plus months for their first available appointment, but finally had my full body screening in September.  There was one particular mole that concerned my dermatologist, so he took some pictures and arranged for a follow-up visit.  Thankfully, today's visit concluded that there was nothing to be concerned with, and I walked away with a clean bill of health and instructions to be vigilant and lather on the SPF-50. On my El ride back to work, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of my $2500 insurance deductible.  I was almost too distracted to notice two blind men boarded the train.  The two were no more than 18 or 19 years old and were being assisted by an older woman.  The gave detailed and helpful instructions to the two guys in a way that was friendly yet firm.  "Be mindful of the gap between the platform and the train car," she advised them.  "You always want to count the number of stops until it's yours just in case the announcement isn't audible," she added.  The one guy was wearing a baseball cap and appeared more confident.  The other was pale, thin and had a hairstyle much like Conan O'Brien--only his was brown.  What struck me about this guy (and tugged at my heart) was the look on his face.  He looked terrified.  He struggled to board the train and find a seat--his stick was flailing left and right while he reached out frantically with one of his hands trying to find something to hold.  The older woman was there to assist, but her role was clear: teach these young blind men to be self-sufficient.  She was calm, patient and reassuring.  She told them not to worry if she wasn't there because there would always be someone willing to help.  Moments later, the trio exited the train.  They exited my life almost as quickly as they entered.  All day, I kept wondering about these two boys.  What happened to them that caused their blindness?  Would the older woman continue to assist them?  What if they try to board the train during rush hour when it's crowded and people are less patient?  All the while I couldn't shake the image of the frightened guy.  My problems pale in comparison, and I'm ashamed it took them to remind me.