I Was So Ill I Couldn’t Walk As a Stranger Virtually Carried Me to the Toilets.

Back when I was my late teens, my daily commute was on an express bus. The vehicle was always crowded and invariably became standing room only by the time I boarded.

One particular morning, I began feeling quite nauseous while the vehicle swayed around the bends. I kept telling myself to hold on another few kilometres so the bus could reached where I needed to get off, at which point I could rush hurriedly toward the most convenient washroom to throw up.

We were coming down the street towards the stop when I understood I was unable to make it. Suddenly, it felt as if a veil came over me. Everything just went hazy and muffled; like someone had cut the sound. I said to myself, “I am about to pass out”.

Luckily I was near the front of the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps to ask the driver and told the operator to stop, informing him I was going to be sick. He promptly opened the bus doors and I stumbled out out onto the street.

I was determined to not get sick in front of a busy multi-lane road, so I picked myself up and started trying to stumble toward the green space opposite the street, where I thought it would allow me to secretly conceal myself near some foliage to vomit. But then I apparently fainted. I could feel my body but I couldn’t walk or see properly, leading me to start inching my way to the grassy area.

“Are you okay, dear?”

At that moment, someone picked me up. There was someone holding me and heard a man say, “Everything alright, love?” I explained to this kind passerby that I had to to be sick. So he virtually helped me walk over to an adjacent building and placed me in the ladies’ toilets. He wanted to know whether I required him to remain with me but I refused.

After a short while, I regained my composure enough to sit down and from outside the stall I heard his voice asking, “Are you feeling better, dear? Is there anything you require?” I wasn’t able to rise right away but did manage to express my gratitude and shortly thereafter recovered the use of my legs. I made my way home passing the following days recovering from which was a severe stomach virus.

I never saw that man’s face – only his legs and a large metal toolbox he had with him – but he saved me, at a moment I was at my most vulnerable.

Often this world can make you defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about my fellow humans.