‘Halfway through my talk,
In Nepal to bring hope, one Scots doctor tells of her earthquake horror
ONE week ago I was in Nepal to teach a series of workshops on modern radiotherapy treatments for cancer patients. At the Beatson West of Scotland Cancer Centre, where I work, we have more than 50 consultants to look after a population of two million people.
Compare this with Nepal, where 50 doctors with cancer care knowledge provide treatment for 28 million people.
I was part of a team of four British and Irish doctors and a radiographer who travelled to Nepal. The four doctors were Aileen Flavin, Jane Barrett from Reading, myself and Aileen’s friend Bernadette O’shea, who came to sight-see. The fifth member of the party was Libby Richards, a senior radiographer.
We arrived a few days early to give us time to sight-see. We managed to see Durbar Square, Kathmandu, and the centre of Bhaktapur before they were flattened.
The earthquake occurred on the second day of teaching, around midday. The workshop was being held on the fifth floor of the Yellow Pagoda Hotel. Just before, there was a sudden
eeriness and then a “werewoooooosh” noise.
The lights failed, all went quiet then the sway began, initially slight, then the main movement rocking the walls.
I was halfway through my presentation when the earth moved.
What do you think in an earthquake? If you are me it was along these lines: “This is not
an earthquake, could it be a gas explosion? No, this is an earthquake.”
There were voices: “Get down, get down.” We were crouching under tables waiting for it to end. A young female consultant oncologist was crying “Oh my god, Oh my god”. Men were shouting: “Everyone down the stairs.”
The main shock was over but there would be an aftershock. The stairs were still intact. It was time to get out. I was at the front of the hall, furthest from the exit. Voices called: “Don’t take anything, just get out, get out.”
I decided there was a little time and a disaster zone without a passport would be too difficult, so I went to get my bag. The computer was disposable.
My legs didn’t move fast enough, I had had a bout of the infamous travellers’ sickness. My body would not sprint even for an earthquake. “Move faster, hurry, madam, hurry,” I’m told, but was it fast enough?
In the street everyone was in the middle of the road, asking one another: “Are you alright, is your family alright?”
The mobile phone signal was still working. Our hosts checked that we were all safe then left for the hospital to wait for news.
We remembered Bernadette. Was she sight-seeing? There was no reply from her mobile, probably just no signal.
How long do you wait in the middle of a crossroads? Aftershocks go on for days but could we get another earthquake? Why don’t I know more about