Mexico By Touch

Jackie was in her mid 20's.  She was bitter, depressed, and full of resentment.  She felt that life had dealt her a cruel blow.  But it was not until her fifth call that she revealed to me what was troubling her. 

About a year earlier, she had been in an automobile accident.  As a result, she had lost her sight.  She felt cheated by life and angry towards God.  I gently asked her what she had done since the accident. 

"Nothing, really," she admitted, "just waited and hoped that somehow, some way, some miracle would bring back my sight."

I tried to reassure her that being blind wasn't the worst thing in the world that could happen.  I suggested that she needed to prepare herself in the event that the miracle might never come.  I talked to her about learning braille and about other services which were available to persons without vision.  I suggested that she still could find purpose and meaning in life.  Her response was to lash out at me in anger.

"How would you know what it's like to be blind?" she challenged.  "It's easy for you to say, It's not so bad.  But you haven't been there."

I listened to her tirade with calm compassion, letting her vent her bitterness and anger and fear.  And then I said quietly to her:

"Yes, Jackie, I do know what it's like because, you see, I am also blind."

I was not prepared for her reaction.  She became even more angry and shouted at me. 

"Why do you mock me?  Do you think I am stupid?  How is it possible that you can be a disc jockey and be blind?  You are cruel!" she said, "and you are a liar." 

With that, she slammed down the phone, without giving me a chance to respond.  I felt awful.  I felt frustrated and guilty.  Yes, I had told her the truth, but perhaps I should have waited, or told it to her differently.  I had gambled that my revelation would shock her out of her state of self-pity.  Instead, it had enraged her. 

Did she believe me?  Would she call back?  I wondered, had I lost the chance to help someone in distress?