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As a GP treating Grenfell fire victims, I marvel at the human talent for caring As a GP treating Grenfell fire victims, I marvel at the human talent for caring
(7 months later)
This atrocity choked the nation. But perhaps we can now find a way to harness the indomitable spirit of selflessness and equality that it has revealed
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Thu 22 Jun 2017 10.46 BST
Last modified on Fri 15 Sep 2017 20.18 BST
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I have volunteered as a doctor in Iraq, Lesbos, and Calais – but sometimes it’s the events closer to home that hit you the hardest. This is London – how could this happen in our own back yard?I have volunteered as a doctor in Iraq, Lesbos, and Calais – but sometimes it’s the events closer to home that hit you the hardest. This is London – how could this happen in our own back yard?
“Hi, I’m Dr Khaki. How can I help?”“Hi, I’m Dr Khaki. How can I help?”
“I just need some painkillers. I hurt my leg.”“I just need some painkillers. I hurt my leg.”
“How did you hurt it?”“How did you hurt it?”
“I kicked a car.”“I kicked a car.”
“Oh, right. Why did you kick the car?”“Oh, right. Why did you kick the car?”
“I just found out my best friend died in the Grenfell fire.”“I just found out my best friend died in the Grenfell fire.”
The best training in the world doesn’t prepare you for that response. We stare at each other for a few seconds, I offer my hand and we embrace. Sometimes words aren’t enough.The best training in the world doesn’t prepare you for that response. We stare at each other for a few seconds, I offer my hand and we embrace. Sometimes words aren’t enough.
No time to reflect: another patient to see.No time to reflect: another patient to see.
“My back is hurting really badly.”“My back is hurting really badly.”
“When did it start?”“When did it start?”
“It’s been bad for the last three days – since the fire. I think it’s cos I’ve been sleeping on the floor since then. My place burned down …”“It’s been bad for the last three days – since the fire. I think it’s cos I’ve been sleeping on the floor since then. My place burned down …”
His friend, who had come to help in the early hours of the fire, has a sore throat. Unlike in my usual practice, this is not from smoking but from smoke inhalation.His friend, who had come to help in the early hours of the fire, has a sore throat. Unlike in my usual practice, this is not from smoking but from smoke inhalation.
Another patient has been talking to a fellow GP, Anna, for almost an hour. As the lady gets up to leave, they hug and promise to keep in touch. Anna is tearful: “She just told me her whole family is still missing and she can’t sleep for worry. She was brought here by some members of the public who found her wandering around in a daze.” We keep her on our high-priority list, and make a note to liaise with her regular GP in the morning, and to update the overnight team so they know to check on her regularly and ensure she’s well looked after.Another patient has been talking to a fellow GP, Anna, for almost an hour. As the lady gets up to leave, they hug and promise to keep in touch. Anna is tearful: “She just told me her whole family is still missing and she can’t sleep for worry. She was brought here by some members of the public who found her wandering around in a daze.” We keep her on our high-priority list, and make a note to liaise with her regular GP in the morning, and to update the overnight team so they know to check on her regularly and ensure she’s well looked after.
I’m not even meant to be here. I’d called to offer my help on the day of the fire but at the time the rota was well staffed – dozens like me had made the same call. Instead I came down the day after the blaze as a volunteer with others from the Hujjat Islamic Centre in Stanmore, who had been collecting food and other necessities for the Westway sports centre and the other shelters that had sprung up to help the Grenfell Tower residents.I’m not even meant to be here. I’d called to offer my help on the day of the fire but at the time the rota was well staffed – dozens like me had made the same call. Instead I came down the day after the blaze as a volunteer with others from the Hujjat Islamic Centre in Stanmore, who had been collecting food and other necessities for the Westway sports centre and the other shelters that had sprung up to help the Grenfell Tower residents.
When we arrived, roads were closed and we had to park a distance from the area, in unfamiliar territory. It was the unmistakable smell of smoke that reminded us why we’d come, the remnants of a tragedy that had choked the nation.When we arrived, roads were closed and we had to park a distance from the area, in unfamiliar territory. It was the unmistakable smell of smoke that reminded us why we’d come, the remnants of a tragedy that had choked the nation.
The monstrosity of the event had compelled me to volunteer; it turned out everyone else in London had the same feeling. People of all ages, all colours, all religions were doing what they could: organising donations, stock checking, forming distribution lines, working together for something greater. Some were lifting, some were advising, some were sorting, some were fasting. More were arriving. Humanity was winning.The monstrosity of the event had compelled me to volunteer; it turned out everyone else in London had the same feeling. People of all ages, all colours, all religions were doing what they could: organising donations, stock checking, forming distribution lines, working together for something greater. Some were lifting, some were advising, some were sorting, some were fasting. More were arriving. Humanity was winning.
When the work was completed, we made our way to the Westway centre. While the group continued to assist with food distribution, setting out dinner for those affected by the tragedy, followed by iftar for the Muslim volunteers, I spoke to the Red Cross about the medical efforts, and asked whether I could help at all. Stethoscope and ID badge in hand, I was brought through the Westway centre, where all manner of collections, from shoes to toiletries, were being organised by volunteers, some of whom had been there for close to 24 hours.When the work was completed, we made our way to the Westway centre. While the group continued to assist with food distribution, setting out dinner for those affected by the tragedy, followed by iftar for the Muslim volunteers, I spoke to the Red Cross about the medical efforts, and asked whether I could help at all. Stethoscope and ID badge in hand, I was brought through the Westway centre, where all manner of collections, from shoes to toiletries, were being organised by volunteers, some of whom had been there for close to 24 hours.
In the wake of so much suffering, I wanted to share my renewed hope in humanityIn the wake of so much suffering, I wanted to share my renewed hope in humanity
Arriving at the GP table, I found three other local doctors who had finished at their regular practices and come straight down to help a few hours earlier. We surveyed the transformed sports centre, where tennis courts were now huge bedrooms of mattresses and bedding, and started speaking to a few people who were enquiring about pain relief. In between, we organised the paperwork, made an inventory of drugs and equipment needed, and tried to plan for the next few days. All around us an eerie silence filled the room: the sound of the tragedy in our minds drowning out any conversation.Arriving at the GP table, I found three other local doctors who had finished at their regular practices and come straight down to help a few hours earlier. We surveyed the transformed sports centre, where tennis courts were now huge bedrooms of mattresses and bedding, and started speaking to a few people who were enquiring about pain relief. In between, we organised the paperwork, made an inventory of drugs and equipment needed, and tried to plan for the next few days. All around us an eerie silence filled the room: the sound of the tragedy in our minds drowning out any conversation.
Over the next few days, the Whatsapp group that the GPs had set up kept buzzing with alerts, and it was remarkable to see how many doctors were willing to come in at any time they could. Some, like me, were working through their annual leave, some between their regular GP sessions, with everyone bound together trying to help where they could: discussing ways to improve the service, coordinating schedules and updating each other on that day’s events. Sometimes I would just read the messages, marvelling at the human capacity to care for others in need.Over the next few days, the Whatsapp group that the GPs had set up kept buzzing with alerts, and it was remarkable to see how many doctors were willing to come in at any time they could. Some, like me, were working through their annual leave, some between their regular GP sessions, with everyone bound together trying to help where they could: discussing ways to improve the service, coordinating schedules and updating each other on that day’s events. Sometimes I would just read the messages, marvelling at the human capacity to care for others in need.
A few days later I was available for another shift. Back at the Westway centre, the smell of smoke had dissipated, but the remarkable display of humanity and community lingered on. It was this indomitable spirit of selflessness and equality that left its mark.A few days later I was available for another shift. Back at the Westway centre, the smell of smoke had dissipated, but the remarkable display of humanity and community lingered on. It was this indomitable spirit of selflessness and equality that left its mark.
So why am I writing this? I’m not sure, really. Perhaps amid so much suffering, I wanted to share my renewed hope in humanity. At a time when so many people pulled together, and continue to do so, I guess I just wanted to thank everyone who has contributed. To all those who have donated – thank you. To all the nameless, invisible volunteers – thank you. To all those who have ensured community spirit survives – thank you.So why am I writing this? I’m not sure, really. Perhaps amid so much suffering, I wanted to share my renewed hope in humanity. At a time when so many people pulled together, and continue to do so, I guess I just wanted to thank everyone who has contributed. To all those who have donated – thank you. To all the nameless, invisible volunteers – thank you. To all those who have ensured community spirit survives – thank you.
The day after the tragedy, many shelters reported that they no longer needed donations, and many communities turned to their local food bank and homeless shelters as a way to help those less fortunate. Perhaps we can take this lesson into our lives. It doesn’t have to be restricted to times of national grief or crisis: we can contribute all year round. Maybe we can consider helping the Sufra food bank to feed impoverished families in London, for example, or join the weekly Who Is Hussain food donation drive for the homeless.The day after the tragedy, many shelters reported that they no longer needed donations, and many communities turned to their local food bank and homeless shelters as a way to help those less fortunate. Perhaps we can take this lesson into our lives. It doesn’t have to be restricted to times of national grief or crisis: we can contribute all year round. Maybe we can consider helping the Sufra food bank to feed impoverished families in London, for example, or join the weekly Who Is Hussain food donation drive for the homeless.
Whatever we do, let’s show that when tragedy ensues, community spirit endures. At a time when the focus of the world’s attention is on all the things that divide us, I hope it’s the words of the Islamic leader and philosopher Ali ibn Abi Talib that we can hold on to: “Know that there are only two types of people in this world: your brother in faith, or your equal in humanity.”Whatever we do, let’s show that when tragedy ensues, community spirit endures. At a time when the focus of the world’s attention is on all the things that divide us, I hope it’s the words of the Islamic leader and philosopher Ali ibn Abi Talib that we can hold on to: “Know that there are only two types of people in this world: your brother in faith, or your equal in humanity.”
Grenfell Tower fire
Opinion
London
Communities
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