Come Together
This morning, I was on the second half of my commute. I take the 4,5 train now, and after a few weeks of testing transfer points and departure times, I’ve settled into a nice little groove. If I leave my house around 8:15, I can usually get to work around 9:05 or 9:10. I’m very routine-driven about some things, so I was pleased to finally adjust to a new commute schedule, hit my stride with the subway transfers, and figure out where I need to be on each train to maximize proximity to stairways. I find finding the best route to a new job is one of the things that makes me feel settled in, and this is really the first week I’ve been confident in where I need to be at what point in my commute.
The ride seemed pretty uneventful. I snagged a seat on the second stop, and settled in to my reading (St. Lucy’s Home For Girls Raised by Wolves – great title, decent read). I tend to be oblivious to the rest of the train car when I’m reading, especially if I have a seat. I’m pretty much immune to the shufflings and goings on of the other passengers, unless someone’s particularly loud or smelly (this means you, stank armpit guy from yesterday!).
We were somewhere between Chambers and 14th Street when all of a sudden, there was a commotion, and a tall man with long dreadlocks was shaking on the floor. His seizure couldn’t have lasted more than 15 or 30 seconds, but it was terrifying. As he was shaking, people were clearing away to make room for him. I put my handbag under his head to stop it banging on the floor, and passengers gathered around to see what they could do, how they could help.
The man stopped shaking, and came to groggily. “What happened?” he blinked. A small Asian woman was crouched by his side. “You had a seizure,” she told him. People started chorusing in, “Are you OK?” “Can we do anything?” A little fat lady halfway down the car called, “I have some water,” and hands reached out to pass the bottle to the stricken man. He took it, and more hands reached out to help him up and into a seat.
The small Asian woman clearly had some kind of medical training, as she started asking him about his medical history, if he’d had seizures before, if he’d eaten anything yet, where he was going when he got off the train. He said he was headed to the VA Hospital, which was at the 14th Street stop anyway.
A group of 4 or 5 people surrounded the man and helped him make his way off the train, and as we pulled out of the station, the small Asian lady was supporting the small of his back up the stairs. I would bet she went with him all the way to the hospital.
There were no life-saving heroics on my train this morning, just people acting decently towards someone in trouble. It was nice to see, and a pleasant reminder that I wish had stuck when, walking out of my office for lunch, I got stuck behind a slow-moving bleached blond in a teeny mini skirt and 5 inch heels and crankily thought, “whore."
So much for my touchy-feelies.
The ride seemed pretty uneventful. I snagged a seat on the second stop, and settled in to my reading (St. Lucy’s Home For Girls Raised by Wolves – great title, decent read). I tend to be oblivious to the rest of the train car when I’m reading, especially if I have a seat. I’m pretty much immune to the shufflings and goings on of the other passengers, unless someone’s particularly loud or smelly (this means you, stank armpit guy from yesterday!).
We were somewhere between Chambers and 14th Street when all of a sudden, there was a commotion, and a tall man with long dreadlocks was shaking on the floor. His seizure couldn’t have lasted more than 15 or 30 seconds, but it was terrifying. As he was shaking, people were clearing away to make room for him. I put my handbag under his head to stop it banging on the floor, and passengers gathered around to see what they could do, how they could help.
The man stopped shaking, and came to groggily. “What happened?” he blinked. A small Asian woman was crouched by his side. “You had a seizure,” she told him. People started chorusing in, “Are you OK?” “Can we do anything?” A little fat lady halfway down the car called, “I have some water,” and hands reached out to pass the bottle to the stricken man. He took it, and more hands reached out to help him up and into a seat.
The small Asian woman clearly had some kind of medical training, as she started asking him about his medical history, if he’d had seizures before, if he’d eaten anything yet, where he was going when he got off the train. He said he was headed to the VA Hospital, which was at the 14th Street stop anyway.
A group of 4 or 5 people surrounded the man and helped him make his way off the train, and as we pulled out of the station, the small Asian lady was supporting the small of his back up the stairs. I would bet she went with him all the way to the hospital.
There were no life-saving heroics on my train this morning, just people acting decently towards someone in trouble. It was nice to see, and a pleasant reminder that I wish had stuck when, walking out of my office for lunch, I got stuck behind a slow-moving bleached blond in a teeny mini skirt and 5 inch heels and crankily thought, “whore."
So much for my touchy-feelies.
Labels: good samaritans, kindness, subway
posted by Liz at 1:17 PM
1 Comments:
Hey, where have you been? Did you run off with the leprechauns?
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