They say confession is good for the soul, so here is mine for today.
This morning I swam into a blind man.
For some the whole concept of me swimming, never mind undertaking such strenuous activity before work, would be confession enough without the added adventure of my unfortunate collision. (And really to call it swimming is probably even stretching the point a little but until today I have made it, usually unhindered, from one end of the pool to the other).
That I was going backwards along the side of the lane which the blind man was using to guide himself into the pool forwards was never going to be a good combination. To the pool attendants and my fellow swimmers what was about to happen was undoubtedly inevitable… yet no one chose to warn us of the impending disaster.
Following the impact I immediately realised that although I was disadvantaged by going backwards, the gentleman was even more disadvantaged by the cloudiness which has caused his eyes to fail. After apologising profusely to each other he went on his way and I stopped at the edge to recover.
Looking up I saw the pool attendant pointing his second & third finger at his eyes. Rather than threatening me I realised that he was telling me that the man in question was blind. A lady came up to me to ask if I was alright and kindly informed me that the man had trouble seeing. As I made it to the other end of the pool again my collidee was quite distressed telling one of his pals that he thought he’d hit someone and did he know who it was. When I got to that end again this gentleman informed me very loudly that the other guy was blind (rather too loudly – I don’t think he was deaf) - I think I’d got the message by now anyway.
Sometimes I find myself in touchy feely group discussions where probing questions like ‘which of your senses would you least like to lose and why?’ I love the sea and once I tried to work out if it was the sound or the sight of the sea that I loved the most. Standing in front of the billowing waves on the West Sands in St Andrews (made famous in Chariots of Fire) I decided it would be worse not to be able to hear their mighty roar or the gentle lapping on a quieter day.
But after my little adventure this morning I’m not so sure. Obviously my swimming friend despite his lack of sight can get around and do things for himself but there must be so many things that frustrate him (like others in the swimming pool lacking spatial awareness without any excuse) and everyday things which must take longer and more effort than I will ever now. So maybe my confession is less about my collision and more about not being grateful enough for what I already have.
(Cue Joni Mitchell: Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone…)
