In Such Poor Health I Was Unable to Walk When a Man Essentially Lifted Me to the Toilets.

During my nineteenth year, my daily commute meant taking an crowded coach. It was perpetually crowded and invariably became standing room only once I boarded.

One particular morning, I started experiencing terribly ill while the vehicle swayed around each corner. I repeatedly told myself to persevere another few kilometres so the bus could got to my destination, and then I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient washroom to throw up.

The bus was approaching the street towards the stop when I realised I would not be to make it. In an instant, it was like a curtain fell over me. My vision turned white and really quiet; as if someone cut the sound. I said to myself, “I will lose consciousness”.

Luckily I was close to the driver on the bus, so I managed a few steps toward the driver and asked the driver to stop, explaining to him I needed to be sick. The driver opened the doors and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

I was determined not to vomit in front of six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and endeavored to stumble to the park on the other side, where I thought it would allow me to find some privacy behind a bush to throw up. Yet I likely fainted. I could feel my physical self, yet walking was impossible or see properly, leading me to start inching my way to my intended destination.

“Everything alright, love?”

Right then, someone picked me up. I sensed someone holding me and a stranger inquired, “Everything alright, love?” I managed to tell the mysterious stranger that I had to to vomit. So he virtually supported my weight down into a nearby building and put me into the female bathroom. He inquired if I wanted him to stay with me but I declined.

After a short while, I had recovered enough to sit on the toilet when from beyond the stall I heard his voice asking, “Are you feeling better, dear? Can I get you something?” I was incapable to rise right away but I was able to say thank you and after a few more minutes was able to move my legs. I made my way home and spent the following days healing from which was a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see his features – only his legs and a large steelwork tools container he had with him – but he helped me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life tends to make people defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that protective shell. He served as evidence that our default setting leans toward compassion, something I love about humanity.