In Such Poor Health Walking Was Impossible When a Man Essentially Lifted Me to the Toilets.

Back when I was my late teens, my regular journey to work meant taking an packed public transport. The vehicle was always crowded and would always be without any seats by the time I boarded.

During a certain commute, I began feeling incredibly sick when the coach lurched around the bends. I repeatedly told myself to endure just a little longer so the bus could got to my destination, so I could then sprint quickly to the closest public toilet to vomit.

The bus was approaching the avenue close to the destination as I understood I wasn’t going to last. All of a sudden, it felt as if a fog descended upon me. My vision turned hazy and muffled; as if someone muted everything. I thought, “I will lose consciousness”.

Luckily I was close to the driver of the bus, so I managed several steps toward the driver and asked the driver to stop, explaining to him I was going to vomit. He opened the bus doors and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

I was determined to avoid being sick before a busy multi-lane road, so I picked myself up and began attempting to make my way across to the park opposite the street, where I thought it would allow me to discreetly hide near some foliage to be sick. But then I must have fainted. I was aware of my body but I was unable to walk or see properly, so I started inching my way to the park.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, I was lifted up. I sensed someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “Everything alright, love?” I told this unknown man that I had to to get to a bathroom. Thus, he practically helped me walk over to a nearby building and guided me in the ladies’ toilets. He wanted to know whether I required him to stay with me but I refused.

A few minutes later, I felt better enough to sit on the restroom floor and from outside the door came his voice asking, “Are you OK, love? Is there anything you require?” I wasn’t able to rise just then but I was able to thank him and shortly thereafter regained the function of my feet. I returned home and spent the following days recovering from what turned out to be a nasty tummy bug.

I never glimpsed his features – only his legs along with a sizable steelwork tools container he had with him – but he saved me, at a moment I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life has a way of making you self-protective, pushy, and rivalrous. What he did was the kind of action that undoes that hardening of the heart. He served as evidence that our default setting leans toward compassion, something I love about humanity.