Feeling So Sick I Couldn’t Walk As a Stranger Essentially Lifted Me to a Bathroom.

At the age of 19 years old, my regular journey to work meant taking an packed public transport. It was perpetually jammed and would always be without any seats by the time I boarded.

On one specific day, I began feeling terribly ill while the vehicle swayed around each corner. I continuously reassured myself to endure just a little longer before the bus arrived at where I needed to get off, so I could then make a mad dash for the nearest public restroom to be sick.

The bus was approaching the street towards the stop when I realised I wasn’t going to hold on. Suddenly, it felt as if a curtain fell over me. The world became hazy and muffled; like someone had cut the sound. My mind raced, “I will lose consciousness”.

Thankfully, I was positioned close to the driver on the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps forward and told the operator to open the doors, telling him that I was about to get ill. He promptly opened the entrance and I hurriedly stepped out onto the street.

My intention was to avoid being sick before multiple lanes of cars, so I forced myself up and endeavored to stumble toward the green space on the other side, thinking I could it would allow me to discreetly hide among some shrubs to vomit. Yet I apparently blacked out. I could feel my body but walking was impossible or see clearly, so I started dragging myself toward the park.

“Everything alright, love?”

At that moment, someone picked me up. I felt a strong arm supporting me and a man’s voice asked, “You right, love?” I explained to this kind passerby that I had to to be sick. So he virtually supported my weight into a close-by structure and put me into the female bathroom. He asked me if I needed him to wait for me but I refused.

A few minutes later, I had recovered enough to sit down and from the other side of the stall I heard him ask, “Do you need anything, love? Do you need anything?” I could not to rise right away but did manage to express my gratitude and after a few more minutes was able to move my feet. I got myself home and then spent several days healing from what was later diagnosed as a severe stomach virus.

I never saw his features – just his lower half and the big steelwork tools container he was carrying – but he saved me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Often this world can make you guarded, hostile, and combative. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that hardening of the heart. He served as evidence that people’s natural inclination leans toward compassion, a trait I cherish about humanity.