I lost my sight when I was very young.
But it wasn't much of a problem for me. My hearing and sense of smell were excellent, and I lived far from other people in a small mountain valley. I farmed and wove, lived self-sufficiently, and was fairly content.
Still, for some reason, after I came of age, all sorts of strange people would turn up badly injured and flee to my quiet little home, collapsing right outside my door.
To keep their corpses from polluting my clean water and land, I had no choice but to treat their wounds so they could walk out on their own. After all, I'm only a frail apothecary. If they died here, I wouldn't be strong enough to carry their bodies outside.
After a while, someone must have spread the word about me. From then on, the badly injured people who wandered to my home would all respectfully address me as "Apothecary Sir."
A hollow reputation means nothing to me. I only hope fewer people come here, so I can get some rest.
Theme: Find joy in your own life, and be content
