Feeling So Sick I Couldn’t Walk Until a Fellow Passenger Virtually Carried Me to a Bathroom.
During my nineteenth year, my regular journey to work involved an crowded coach. It remained crowded and was consistently without any seats once I boarded.
On one specific day, I began feeling quite nauseous when the coach rocked around the bends. I continuously reassured myself to endure for a few more stops so the bus could arrived at my destination, so I could then sprint quickly to the closest washroom to vomit.
As we neared the road leading to the destination as I realised I wasn’t going to make it. In an instant, it felt as if a veil came over me. Everything just went blank and silent; like someone had muted everything. My mind raced, “I am about to pass out”.
Thankfully, I was positioned near the front on the bus, allowing me to take a couple of steps to ask the driver and told the operator to open the doors, informing him I was going to vomit. He promptly opened the entrance and I hurriedly stepped out onto the street.
My intention was not to vomit in front of six lanes of traffic, so I picked myself up and began attempting to stumble across to the park on the other side, where I thought I could at least find some privacy behind a bush to be sick. But then I apparently blacked out. I was aware of my physical self, yet I was unable to walk or see clearly, so I began dragging myself toward the park.
“Are you okay, dear?”
At that moment, I was lifted up. There was an arm around my waist and heard a man say, “Everything alright, love?” I managed to tell the unknown man that I required to vomit. Thus, he practically carried me down into a nearby building and put me inside the women’s restroom. He inquired if I needed him to remain with me but I declined.
Not long after, I had recovered enough to sit on the toilet when from beyond the stall I heard him ask, “Are you OK, love? Do you need anything?” I was incapable to get up just then but I did succeed to say thank you and after a few more minutes regained the function of my legs. I got myself home passing the following days healing from what turned out to be a severe stomach virus.
I never glimpsed that man’s face – merely his legs and the big steelwork tools container he held – but he helped me, during a time when I was in my weakest state.
Frequently, society has a way of making you defensive, aggressive and competitive. What he did was the kind of action that melts away that hardening of the heart. He was proof that our default setting is to be kind, something I love in other people.