We never truly know how a day is going to unfold. One moment you are enjoying a sunny Sunday afternoon listening to the Bandstand Concert in Dartford’s Central Park. The next you are waking up from a sudden blackout, surrounded by confusion and panic.
Collapsing in public is an undignified affair, and I came to in a real mess, with my wife and mother-in-law understandably terrified. Yet, what could have been a traumatic memory instead became a lesson in the quiet, everyday goodness of our community.
In these particularly divisive and difficult political times, it is easy to look at the world and see only friction. But the moment I fell, the barriers we so often construct between ourselves simply vanished.
Total strangers stepped in to help. Someone to my left had dialled 999 and handed me the phone to speak with the emergency services. Someone else appeared with a handful of napkins. A wonderfully kind person in front of me reassured me and my family while doing their best to clean me up. Through the haze of my tunnel vision, I remember wondering, ‘Why do they even want to touch me?’ It was pure, selfless empathy.
As the ambulance arrived, more strangers ran to the park gates to guide the crew directly to us. The two paramedics were superb, and even provided some much-needed light relief when one of them suddenly performed that universally recognisable ‘there is a wasp near me’ dance.
I was taken to Darent Valley Hospital, where my diagnosis of dehydration and low blood pressure was dealt with by a diverse cross-section of humanity. I was treated by people from many countries and most continents.
The conversations I had through my recovery revealed a beautiful tapestry of lives that I never encountered when young. I was cared for by an enthusiastic and ambitious cricket player, a devoted parent, and a person newly and happily married to their same-sex partner. I was surrounded by a chorus of world languages, but most importantly, a universal language of smiles and dedication.
We are often told that our differences divide us. But that day, whether in our park or on the hospital wards, I saw only a wonderfully diverse community working as one.
The person who cleaned me up gave their number and I was able to thank them, but to the many others whose names I never caught: thank you, and apologies for the trouble.
We may never know what a new day will bring, but it is deeply comforting to know that when things go wrong, our community will do anything to help, simply because it is the community thing to do.
Gareth
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