Feeling So Sick I Was Unable to Walk As a Stranger Essentially Lifted Me to a Restroom.

Back when I was nineteenth year, my morning travel involved an crowded coach. It remained full and invariably became without any seats when I boarded.

On one specific day, I started experiencing quite nauseous while the vehicle rocked around the bends. I kept telling myself to persevere for a few more stops so the bus could arrived at my stop, and then I could make a mad dash to the closest public restroom to be sick.

The bus was approaching the road leading to the destination as I understood I was unable to make it. Suddenly, it was like a fog descended upon me. Everything just went blank and silent; like someone had muted everything. I thought, “I am about to pass out”.

Fortunately, I stood toward the front on the bus, so I managed several steps to ask the driver and told the operator to stop, explaining to him I was going to be sick. He opened the bus doors and I stumbled out out onto the street.

My intention was not to vomit in view of a busy multi-lane road, so I forced myself up and started trying to stumble to the park opposite the street, where I thought I’d at least be able to find some privacy among some shrubs to vomit. But then I must have lost consciousness. I sensed my limbs, but walking was impossible or see clearly, leading me to start inching my way to the grassy area.

“Everything alright, love?”

Right then, I got scooped up. I felt an arm around my waist and a stranger inquired, “You right, love?” I told this mysterious stranger that I required to vomit. Therefore, he almost supported my weight down into a close-by structure and guided me inside the women’s restroom. He inquired if I needed him to remain with me but I refused.

Not long after, I regained my composure to the point of sitting on the toilet and from outside the door I heard him ask, “Are you feeling better, dear? Is there anything you require?” I wasn’t able to rise right away but I did succeed to thank him and after a few more minutes was able to move my feet. I got myself home and spent the next few days recovering from what turned out to be a horrible case of gastroenteritis.

I never glimpsed that man’s face – merely his legs along with a sizable steelwork tools container he was carrying – but he helped me, during a time when I was completely helpless.

Many times, life has a way of making you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that emotional callousness. He was proof that our default setting leans toward compassion, a quality I adore in other people.