I adjusted my hood, trying to hide my hair — what was left of it after yet another round of chemo. The subway was crowded, but I managed to find a seat by the door. I felt completely drained. My body ached, and every breath was a struggle.
A woman in her sixties stood nearby with a little boy, maybe around six. The boy immediately took the empty seat next to me, and the woman, sighing heavily, turned to me and said:
— “Young lady, could you please give up your seat? It’s hard for me to stand.”
I barely lifted my head — my strength was nearly gone.
A woman yelled at me on the subway for not giving up my seat — here’s what I had to do
— “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said softly, lowering my gaze. “Let your grandson give you his seat.”
She frowned and raised her voice:
— “What do you mean you can’t? You’re young! Where’s your respect? My boy is just a child, and you — this is disgraceful! Look at how she’s behaving!”
People around started paying attention. Some began muttering disapprovingly.
That’s when I decided to do something — and after I did, the woman looked at me in horror, apologized, and got off the train, even though it wasn’t her stop. 👇👇
