An Accident At The Station

I was in London last weekend and as I was getting on the train back, a man about to get into the same carriage as me fell over. Most people around immediately rushed to his aid, myself included, and I helped guide him into a seat. Luckily he wasn’t badly injured, but his glasses were broken, and he had cuts on his elbow and at the side of his head.

I usually have plasters on me because Abs, my mother, has drummed into me the importance of being prepared for injuries, especially since I’m “such a fish”. I didn’t this time though, as they were in my other handbag at home. I did have tissues however, so I gave them to him to clean the blood and to press against the still bleeding cuts. I also offered him water and kept talking to him to make sure he was okay. He was quite the joker as he kept saying, “I’ve had worse!” and grimaced when I gave him a mirror to see the cut on his face saying, “Good job the image doesn’t stick on that.”

At the stop after his fall, the first aid people came to see if he was okay before the train carried on, and he reassured them that he was fine. I was sat with him for most of the journey, and when we parted he thanked us for our assistance. It was no trouble at all, and it saddened me that there were people on that carriage who didn’t even bat an eyelid when he fell, and just ignored him like it didn’t happen. How can people be so heartless? What if it had been them? I just can’t wrap my head around it. The ability to show compassion isn’t important only for doctors, it’s a vital human skill!

I’m just glad the man was okay in the end, and I truly believe that there aren’t many things as satisfying as the feeling you get from helping others. The story of the Good Samaritan springs to mind…