In Such Poor Health I Couldn’t Walk As a Stranger Practically Supported Me to a Restroom.

At the age of my late teens, my regular journey to work involved an packed public transport. The vehicle was always full and invariably became completely full once I got on.

During a certain commute, I was feeling quite nauseous as the bus rocked around the bends. I continuously reassured myself to persevere just a little longer until the bus arrived at my destination, so I could then sprint quickly toward the most convenient public restroom to vomit.

We were coming down the street towards the destination as I understood I wasn’t going to hold on. Suddenly, it was like a veil came over me. My vision turned white and really quiet; like someone had turned off the audio. I thought, “I am about to pass out”.

Thankfully, I was positioned near the front on the bus, allowing me to take several steps toward the driver and told the operator to pull over, informing him I needed to vomit. The driver opened the entrance and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

I was resolved to not get sick in front of multiple lanes of cars, so I picked myself up and began attempting to make my way across to the park on the other side, where I believed I could at least secretly conceal myself near some foliage to throw up. However I must have fainted. I sensed my physical self, yet walking was impossible and my vision was blurry, so I started dragging myself toward the park.

“You right, love?”

Right then, I got scooped up. I felt an arm around my waist and heard a man say, “Are you okay, dear?” I explained to this mysterious stranger that I needed to get to a bathroom. So he virtually carried me down into an adjacent building and guided me in the ladies’ toilets. He inquired if I wanted him to stay with me but I refused.

Not long after, I felt better to the point of sitting on the restroom floor when from beyond the door I heard him ask, “Are you OK, love? Can I get you something?” I could not to rise just then but I was able to thank him and following a brief period regained the function of my feet. I returned home and spent several days getting over what turned out to be a horrible case of gastroenteritis.

I did not see his features – only his legs and the big container for tools he was carrying – but he saved me, during a time when I was at my most vulnerable.

Often this world has a way of making you guarded, hostile, and combative. His was the sort of gesture that reverses that protective shell. He demonstrated that our default setting leans toward compassion, a quality I adore about my fellow humans.