In Such Poor Health I Couldn’t Walk Until a Fellow Passenger Practically Supported Me to a Restroom.

Back when I was nineteenth year, my daily commute involved an express bus. It remained full and invariably became without any seats by the time I stepped aboard.

One particular morning, I began feeling quite nauseous while the vehicle swayed around the bends. I repeatedly told myself to persevere another few kilometres so the bus could got to my stop, at which point I could make a mad dash for the nearest public restroom to throw up.

We were coming down the road leading to the destination as I realised I would not be to last. In an instant, it seemed a veil came over me. Everything just went white and really quiet; like someone had muted everything. I said to myself, “I will lose consciousness”.

Luckily I was near the front of the bus, allowing me to take several steps toward the driver and told the operator to stop, telling him I was going to get ill. The driver opened the doors and I weakly exited out onto the street.

I was resolved not to vomit in front of six lanes of traffic, so I gathered myself and began attempting to stumble to the park opposite the street, where I believed I could at least find some privacy among some shrubs to throw up. However I apparently blacked out. I could feel my limbs, but I couldn’t walk or see properly, so I started dragging myself toward the grassy area.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, someone picked me up. I felt someone holding me and a stranger inquired, “You right, love?” I explained to this mysterious stranger that I required to vomit. So he virtually supported my weight into an adjacent building and put me in the ladies’ toilets. He asked me whether I required him to stay with me but I declined.

A few minutes later, I regained my composure sufficiently to sit down and from the other side of the door I heard him inquire, “Do you need anything, love? Do you need anything?” I wasn’t able to stand up just then but I did succeed to express my gratitude and shortly thereafter was able to move my legs. I made my way home and spent the next few days getting over what turned out to be a nasty tummy bug.

I did not see his features – just his lower half and the big container for tools he held – yet he rescued me, when I was in my weakest state.

Many times, life can make you guarded, hostile, and combative. His act was the type of kindness that undoes that protective shell. He demonstrated that humanity’s innate tendency leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about humanity.