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 morning travel meant taking an crowded coach. The vehicle was always crowded and would always be standing room only by the time I got on.

One particular morning, I began feeling quite nauseous as the bus swayed around each corner. I kept telling myself to persevere just a little longer before the bus reached my destination, so I could then rush hurriedly to the closest washroom to throw up.

The bus was approaching the road leading to the stop when it dawned on me I wasn’t going to hold on. In an instant, it felt as if a curtain fell over me. The world became white and really quiet; as if someone cut the sound. I thought, “I’m going to faint”.

Luckily I was near the front inside the vehicle, so I managed a couple of steps toward the driver and told the operator to open the doors, explaining to him I was going to vomit. The driver opened the bus doors and I weakly exited on to the pavement.

I was determined not to vomit before six lanes of traffic, so I forced myself up and started trying to stumble toward the green space across the road, where I thought I could at least secretly conceal myself near some foliage to be sick. But then I likely fainted. I sensed my body but I was unable to walk or see clearly, so I started dragging myself toward my intended destination.

“Are you okay, dear?”

In that instant, I was lifted up. There was an arm around my waist and a stranger inquired, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the kind passerby that I needed to get to a bathroom. Thus, he practically supported my weight over to an adjacent building and put me inside the women’s restroom. He inquired if I needed him to stay with me but I refused.

Not long after, I felt better sufficiently to sit on the restroom floor and from the other side of the door came his voice asking, “Are you feeling better, dear? Do you need anything?” I was incapable to rise at that moment but did manage to express my gratitude and following a brief period recovered the use of my feet. I returned home and then spent the following days getting over what was later diagnosed as a nasty tummy bug.

I never glimpsed his features – only his legs and the big steelwork tools container he held – but he helped me, when I was in my weakest state.

Many times, life can make you guarded, hostile, and combative. What he did was the kind of action that undoes that protective shell. He served as evidence that humanity’s innate tendency is to be kind, something I love about humanity.