In Such Poor Health Walking Was Impossible As a Stranger Practically Supported Me to the Toilets.
During my nineteenth year, my morning travel involved an packed public transport. It was perpetually crowded and was consistently standing room only when I stepped aboard.
One particular morning, I started experiencing quite nauseous while the vehicle rocked around every turn. I kept telling myself to persevere just a little longer so the bus could got to my stop, at which point I could make a mad dash for the nearest public toilet to vomit.
As we neared the road leading to the stop when it dawned on me I was unable to hold on. Suddenly, it was like a curtain fell over me. The world became blank and silent; similar to when one muted everything. My mind raced, “I will lose consciousness”.
Luckily I was near the front on the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps toward the driver and told the operator to pull over, telling him I was going to get ill. He opened the bus doors and I weakly exited onto the sidewalk.
I was determined not to vomit in front of six lanes of traffic, so I gathered myself and started trying to make my way across to the park on the other side, where I thought I could at least find some privacy near some foliage to throw up. Yet I apparently fainted. I was aware of my physical self, yet I was unable to walk or see clearly, leading me to start dragging myself toward the park.
“You right, love?”
Right then, I was lifted up. There was someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the unknown man that I had to to vomit. Therefore, he almost helped me walk down into a nearby building and guided me in the ladies’ toilets. He inquired whether I required him to remain with me but I refused.
A few minutes later, I regained my composure to the point of sitting on the toilet and from outside the door came his voice asking, “Do you need anything, love? Do you need anything?” I wasn’t able to rise at that moment but did manage to express my gratitude and after a few more minutes recovered the use of my legs. I made my way home passing the next few days getting over what was later diagnosed as a nasty tummy bug.
I did not see the stranger’s face – merely his legs along with a sizable container for tools he held – but he helped me, during a time when I was in my weakest state.
Many times, life can make you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that emotional callousness. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, something I love about humanity.
