In Such Poor Health I Couldn’t Walk When a Man Practically Supported Me to a Bathroom.

At the age of nineteenth year, my daily commute meant taking an packed public transport. The vehicle was always crowded and would always be standing room only by the time I got on.

One particular morning, I started experiencing quite nauseous when the coach rocked around the bends. I repeatedly told myself to hold on just a little longer so the bus could got to where I needed to get off, at which point I could rush hurriedly for the nearest public toilet to be sick.

We were coming down the road leading to the stop when I realised I wasn’t going to hold on. In an instant, it felt as if a fog descended upon me. My vision turned blank and silent; like someone had cut the sound. I said to myself, “I am about to pass out”.

Fortunately, I stood near the front of the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps forward and asked the driver to stop, telling him I was going to vomit. He opened the bus doors and I hurriedly stepped out onto the street.

My intention was to avoid being sick in front of a busy multi-lane road, so I gathered myself and endeavored to make my way toward the green space on the other side, thinking I could it would allow me to secretly conceal myself behind a bush to throw up. But then I apparently blacked out. I sensed my physical self, yet walking was impossible and my vision was blurry, so I started crawling towards my intended destination.

“You right, love?”

Right then, I got scooped up. There was someone holding me and a man’s voice asked, “Are you okay, dear?” I managed to tell the kind passerby that I had to to vomit. Thus, he practically supported my weight down into a nearby building and guided me inside the women’s restroom. He wanted to know whether I required him to stay with me but I said no.

After a short while, I had recovered enough to sit on the toilet and from outside the stall I heard him inquire, “Do you need anything, love? Can I get you something?” I was incapable to get up at that moment but I was able to thank him and after a few more minutes regained the function of my legs. I returned home and spent several days getting over what was later diagnosed as a horrible case of gastroenteritis.

I never saw his features – just his lower half and the big metal toolbox he was carrying – but he saved me, during a time when I was in my weakest state.

Many times, life has a way of making you guarded, hostile, and combative. His act was the type of kindness that melts away that hardening of the heart. He was proof that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish in other people.