I know a guy who suddenly found himself flat on his back and helpless in a country he had never seen before, among a people whose language he couldn't speak. He was so weak that he couldn't even lift his head to look around.
He would have died had it not been for the kindness of strangers who fed him and helped him gain the strength to get up and move around. Twenty four hour care was required . It was months before he could even stand, much less make a trip to the bathroom. Although the guy is reasonably bright, he really struggled to learn the language and customs of the folks who cared for him. It was several years before he could communicate effectively with them.
Now, many years later, he remains very grateful to those who showed him such kindness.
I know because, I am that guy. I don't remember much of the earliest years. But my birth certificate says that it all started in Fort Worth, Texas in 1950. I'm glad I didn't pop out in Roswell, NM. I might just be a lab specimen to this day!