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

At the age of my late teens, my regular journey to work involved an express bus. It remained crowded and invariably became completely full once I stepped aboard.

During a certain commute, I started experiencing incredibly sick when the coach swayed around each corner. I repeatedly told myself to hold on another few kilometres so the bus could reached my destination, at which point I could sprint quickly toward the most convenient washroom to vomit.

As we neared the street towards the stop when it dawned on me I would not be to last. Suddenly, it was like a fog descended upon me. The world became hazy and muffled; as if someone muted everything. My mind raced, “I’m going to faint”.

Fortunately, I stood near the front on the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps toward the driver and told the operator to open the doors, telling him I needed to get ill. He opened the bus doors and I stumbled out out onto the street.

My intention was not to vomit before six lanes of traffic, so I gathered myself and endeavored to walk toward the green space on the other side, where I believed I could at least secretly conceal myself behind a bush to throw up. Yet I apparently fainted. I was aware of my physical self, yet I couldn’t walk or see properly, so I started crawling towards the park.

“You right, love?”

In that instant, I got scooped up. I sensed an arm around my waist and a man’s voice asked, “Everything alright, love?” I explained to this mysterious stranger that I had to to get to a bathroom. So he virtually supported my weight into an adjacent building and put me in the ladies’ toilets. He asked me if I wanted him to wait for me but I refused.

Not long after, I felt better sufficiently to sit on the restroom floor when from beyond the door I heard him ask, “Are you feeling better, dear? Can I get you something?” I was incapable to get up at that moment but did manage to express my gratitude and after a few more minutes was able to move my legs. I returned home and then spent the following days recovering from what turned out to be a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see his features – only his legs along with a sizable metal toolbox he was carrying – but he saved me, when I was in my weakest state.

Often this world has a way of making you guarded, hostile, and combative. His act was the type of kindness that reverses that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about humanity.