DR SYIRA AHSAN, 48, is a GP in North East London and works in the out-ofhours area of Queen’s Hospital, Romford

DR SAIMA AHSAN, 38, is a paediatric consultant at St Mary’s Hospital, West London

Winter is usually much worse than the summer in paediatrics because you have loads of viruses like respiratory illnesses.

Now, you’ve got the usual paediatric patients with adult Covid patients to care for on top of that and I think the next couple of weeks could be the hardest yet.

You don’t have enough cubicles and Covid patients need cubicles or at least to be isolated together. You have a haematology unit where you do bone marrow transplants – you cannot have mixing of Covid patients with immunosuppressed ones. I’m so proud of my colleagues but the NHS is chronically underfunded.

I’ve been talking with my colleagues, who have been fantastic, about going back to work. They’re extending the number of adult Covid patients we’re

In this third lockdown, Covid has exploded. When my dad was upstairs on the ward and I was working downstairs, on one shift every single patient bar one had Covid symptoms.

These are young people in their 40s, struggling with their breathing and it was really surreal.

We are at maximum capacity, there are not enough doctors and we are all really exhausted.

I’ve been a doctor for over 21 years but I’ve actually got to the point where I think: “What is the point?” Hopefully, it’s a fleeting thought.

You try to do everything for everyone else and then you lose your own parent.

It’s not stopping, it’s like a tidal wave. Covid is a really cruel disease, there’s a slight lag between what you’re seeing going to be looking after and I think it might be quite difficult for me because of the way my dad passed away. As a consultant, you’re the leader, you have to support the rest of the team and I don’t want to break down in the ward. We lost our mum in October 2019 so we were just coming to terms with that when this happened.

The thing about my parents was that they were very, very kind. My dad had 11 grandchildren and one is already studying medicine.

Dad was always checking up on me – he’d offer to cook for me because he knew if you did back-toback “on calls” you’d neglect yourself and go without eating a proper meal for a few days. I didn’t see him as much as I would have liked in the last year.

It was very difficult for me.. I don’t want to break down on the ward

radiologically and the patient themselves. When my dad was talking without any oxygen aid, they wheeled out his chest X-ray and we sat in silence because, as doctors, we knew that X-ray was horrific. His funeral was like an airport runway. He was the first of the day and there were so many others waiting.

The most precious people I think in society are our elderly and we would be so selfish to become complacent and lose them.

My dad was a strong, independent 81-year-old.

He instilled core values in all of us – to always be honest and truthful, and do the right thing. You work hard and you give back.

We’d call him the BFG, the Big Friendly Giant. He was so loved.

You try to do everything for everyone else, then lose your own parent