Medical Emergency

I descend to find the subway parked at the platform at Queen station. Just sitting there, doors open. Just a delay, no worries, I’ll find a seat and get out my ipod.

After a minute, fellow passengers are fidgeting and frowning and checking their watches. I take out my ear buds. I want to ask someone, pardon sir how long has the train been sitting here?

Then the announcement: “We apologize for the delay. There is a medical emergency on this train. Emergency Services are on their way.”

A medical emergency on THIS train? Usually junk happens on other trains, ahead on the track, going the other direction.

Eager to get home, I figure I could switch southbound and ride the U down to Union and then back north again. Then I’ll switch to the Bloor line and I’ll be home faster than waiting here forever. I get up and leave the train.

Now there’s a crowd on the platform, people are looking into the car. I walk towards the exit and through the opened subway doors I get a glimpse of a man on the floor, his face grey-green.

I think about crossing myself, like in case God exists and responds to that sort of thing. I want to do something. I had a bottle of water in my purse. Maybe he’s just dehydrated? But I keep walking.

I’ve only ever heard of people turning that colour…this is my first time actually seeing it. Even my grandpa looked peachy in his coffin, thanks to a strategically-placed pink light, makeup, and embalming fluid.

I switch to the southbound platform and watch the scene from the other side. Some passengers remain in the car where the man is laying, holding the poles or reading newspapers like they should be moving along any minute now.

I catch my train and hear another announcement about the northbound delay at Queen. The woman across from me frowns at the news. I want to tell her I saw it. I saw the man laying there probably dying, OK. What if someone had jumped, ma’am? What if there was another bomb scare? So wipe that furrow from your forehead.

I’ve made that expression thousand times, myself. But in that moment I decided to quit making the “what the eff is the delay” face because, compared to what that guy was going through, my delay is inconsequential.