I was heading out to the SkyTrain, off to pick up a replacement motherboard for my new PC (I will get to that particular tale in another post) and just past the hospital building next to our condo complex, there is a path made of concrete pavers that goes from the road to the sidewalk. From there, the hospital’s main/emergency entrance is at the top of the hill (this is a separate building from the one mentioned). The curb here is low and curved, allowing you to roll things like strollers or wheelchairs onto the path.
Here’s a 2023 shot of the path from Google Maps:
A woman was ahead of me in a wheelchair, and was using her feet to slowly shuffle forward. She got to the curb and it was clear she didn’t have the ability to get over it. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to using my feet, either. I think you’d need the feet of a hill giant.
I offered to help her over the curb and then just kept pushing. She was thankful and, really, if she could have managed using foot power to get the wheelchair up the sidewalk (which was doubtful), it would have taken ages. I figured it was time to put my sexy running legs to use.
I got up to the corner of Keary and East Columbia. Here, the hill rises even more steeply, albeit briefly, before levelling off. It was now a workout for me. She guided me onward and inside the hospital, down a few corridors and to the elevator that would take her to her therapy. She described being in a car accident–she called it being “run over” and listed an assortment of broken limbs and such. I assume her hands were still on the mend so she couldn’t use them to help with the wheelchair. It all sounded awful. I wished her a speedy recovery and said it was no issue bringing her to the hospital–I was glad to help.
I got her name, but I wished I’d gotten some contact info, because she is going to be stuck if she needs to take the same route again. I’m going to keep my eyes open for her.
It felt good taking the time to help, and I wondered how many people would have just brushed by her as she struggled. I suspect most, but I could be wrong. It feels like people tend to exist in their own narrow space when they go out in public, the world shrunk down to whatever is on their smartphone screen, oblivious and indifferent to what is happening around them.
I guess it’s nice to know I’m not one of those people.
Help people, when you can. It feels good. It is good. And it makes the world a better place every time you do.
/end sermon.
Share this post on social media.