I Was So Ill I Was Unable to Walk As a Stranger Essentially Lifted Me to a Restroom.

At the age of nineteenth year, my regular journey to work was on an crowded coach. It was perpetually crowded and invariably became standing room only by the time I stepped aboard.

During a certain commute, I was feeling incredibly sick as the bus lurched around every turn. I repeatedly told myself to endure another few kilometres until the bus got to my destination, and then I could rush hurriedly to the closest public toilet to throw up.

We were coming down the street towards my stop and I realised I would not be to last. In an instant, it was like a curtain fell over me. Everything just went blank and silent; as if someone cut the sound. My mind raced, “I’m going to faint”.

Fortunately, I stood close to the driver on the bus, so I took a few steps toward the driver and asked the driver to stop, informing him I was going to get ill. The driver opened the entrance and I stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

My intention was to avoid being sick before a busy multi-lane road, so I forced myself up and endeavored to walk across to the park opposite the street, where I thought I’d at least be able to secretly conceal myself among some shrubs to vomit. Yet I must have fainted. I could feel my body but I was unable to walk and my vision was blurry, leading me to start dragging myself toward the grassy area.

“Are you okay, dear?”

Right then, someone picked me up. There was an arm around my waist and a stranger inquired, “Are you okay, dear?” I explained to this kind passerby that I had to to vomit. So he virtually helped me walk into a close-by structure and guided me inside the women’s restroom. He asked me if I wanted him to wait for me but I said no.

Not long after, I had recovered sufficiently to sit on the restroom floor 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 right away but I was able to thank him and shortly thereafter recovered the use of my limbs. I returned home and then spent the following days healing from what turned out to be a severe stomach virus.

I never saw his features – merely his legs and a large metal toolbox he held – but he saved me, when I was at my most vulnerable.

Many times, life tends to make people defensive, aggressive and competitive. His was the sort of gesture that undoes that protective shell. He was proof that our default setting is to be kind, something I love in other people.