Feeling So Sick I Was Unable to Walk When a Man Virtually Carried Me to the Toilets.

Back when I was my late teens, my morning travel meant taking an express bus. It was perpetually full and would always be completely full by the time I boarded.

One particular morning, I was feeling terribly ill while the vehicle rocked around each corner. I repeatedly told myself to endure just a little longer before the bus arrived at where I needed to get off, and then I could sprint quickly toward the most convenient washroom to vomit.

As we neared the street towards the destination as it dawned on me I was unable to last. In an instant, it seemed a fog descended upon me. The world became hazy and muffled; as if someone cut the sound. My mind raced, “I’m going to faint”.

Fortunately, I stood toward the front of the bus, allowing me to take several steps to ask the driver and requested that the driver to pull over, explaining to him that I was about to get ill. He opened the entrance and I stumbled out out onto the street.

I was resolved not to vomit in view of six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and endeavored to stumble to the park on the other side, where I thought I could at least find some privacy near some foliage to be sick. Yet I likely lost consciousness. I sensed my limbs, but walking was impossible or see properly, so I started dragging myself toward the grassy area.

“Everything alright, love?”

At that moment, I was lifted up. I felt a strong arm supporting me and a stranger inquired, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the unknown man that I required to be sick. So he virtually carried me down into a close-by structure and placed me into the female bathroom. He asked me if I needed him to remain with me but I refused.

Not long after, I felt better sufficiently to sit on the toilet and from the other side of the door I heard him ask, “Are you feeling better, dear? Is there anything you require?” I wasn’t able to get up just then but I did succeed to thank him and shortly thereafter was able to move my feet. I got myself home passing the next few days getting over what turned out to be a severe stomach virus.

I never saw the stranger’s face – just his lower half along with a sizable container for tools he held – but he saved me, at a moment I was at my most vulnerable.

Often this world can make 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 leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about my fellow humans.