I Was So Ill I Was Unable to Walk When a Man Essentially Lifted Me to a Restroom.

At the age of my late teens, my daily commute involved an express bus. It remained full and would always be without any seats once I stepped aboard.

One particular morning, 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 got to my stop, and then I could make a mad dash toward the most convenient public restroom to vomit.

We were coming down the avenue close to my stop and I realised I wasn’t going to make it. Suddenly, it felt as if a veil came over me. The world became white and really quiet; like someone had muted everything. My mind raced, “I am about to pass out”.

Fortunately, I stood toward the front of the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps to ask the driver and told the operator to open the doors, telling him I was going to get ill. He opened the entrance and I weakly exited out onto the street.

My intention was not to vomit before multiple lanes of cars, so I picked myself up and endeavored to walk to the park on the other side, where I believed I could at least find some privacy among some shrubs to throw up. Yet I likely lost consciousness. I could feel my body but I was unable to walk and my vision was blurry, so I started dragging myself toward the grassy area.

“Are you okay, dear?”

At that moment, someone picked me up. I felt a strong arm supporting me and a man’s voice asked, “Everything alright, love?” I explained to this unknown man that I needed to be sick. Thus, he practically supported my weight down into a close-by structure and guided me into the female bathroom. He wanted to know whether I required him to wait for me but I said no.

A few minutes later, I had recovered enough to sit on the toilet and from outside the door I heard his voice asking, “Are you feeling better, dear? Do you need anything?” I wasn’t able to get up right away but I was able to express my gratitude and after a few more minutes recovered the use of my limbs. I got myself home and then spent the next few days healing from what was later diagnosed as a horrible case of gastroenteritis.

I never saw that man’s face – just his lower half and the big steelwork tools container he had with him – but he helped me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life has a way of making you guarded, hostile, and combative. What he did was the kind of action that melts away that protective shell. He served as evidence that our default setting is towards kindness, something I love about humanity.