In Such Poor Health Walking Was Impossible Until a Fellow Passenger Essentially Lifted Me to the Toilets.

Back when I was my late teens, my regular journey to work was on an crowded coach. The vehicle was always full and invariably became standing room only once I stepped aboard.

On one specific day, I was feeling quite nauseous when the coach lurched around every turn. I kept telling myself to endure just a little longer until the bus reached where I needed to get off, so I could then sprint quickly to the closest washroom to be sick.

As we neared the avenue close to my stop and I understood I wasn’t going to last. Suddenly, it felt as if a curtain fell over me. The world became blank and silent; like someone had turned off the audio. My mind raced, “I will lose consciousness”.

Fortunately, I stood close to the driver of the bus, so I took a couple of steps to ask the driver and asked the driver to pull over, informing him I was going to get ill. He promptly opened the doors and I hurriedly stepped on to the pavement.

I was determined to avoid being sick in view of six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and began attempting to walk toward the green space on the other side, where I thought it would allow me to secretly conceal myself behind a bush to throw up. Yet I apparently blacked out. I could feel my body but I was unable to walk or see properly, so I started crawling towards my intended destination.

“Are you okay, dear?”

At that moment, I got scooped up. I felt an arm around my waist and heard a man say, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the kind passerby that I required to get to a bathroom. Therefore, he almost supported my weight down into a nearby building and placed me in the ladies’ toilets. He inquired if I needed him to wait for me but I said no.

Not long after, I felt better sufficiently to sit down and from outside the stall I heard his voice asking, “Are you OK, love? Do you need anything?” I could not to rise just then but did manage to say thank you and following a brief period recovered the use of my legs. I got myself home and spent the following days healing from what was later diagnosed as a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see the stranger’s face – merely his legs and a large metal toolbox he was carrying – yet he rescued me, at a moment I was completely helpless.

Often this world has a way of making you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His act was the type of kindness that reverses that protective shell. He was proof that our default setting leans toward compassion, something I love about humanity.