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On October 8, 2005, a massive earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter
scale hit northwestern Pakistan and the Valley of Jammu and Kashmir.
Home to three of the world’s mightiest mountain ranges- the
Himalayas, the Hindu Kush and the Karakorum – the affected
region is majestic to the eye but very treacherous to travel. Towns
are connected by precarious dirt roads that navigate around boulders,
over and alongside the mountains. Hundreds of tiny villages dot
the landscape. The population is scattered over thousands
of miles, and mudslides frequently bring all communication to a
halt.
The quake’s official death toll of 80,000
takes only the recovered bodies into account, yet thousands more
were buried alive in their homes, schools and businesses. Now, over
four months later, more than three million people find themselves
stranded without shelter in the grip of a brutally cold Himalayan
winter.
I had traveled to Pakistan in order to be of some
value to the early relief and rescue missions, and witnessed the
catastrophe even as it was unfolding. Injuries, mostly orthopedic,
ranged from multiple compound fractures to crushed spines and pelvises;
in many cases, family members carried out amputations as a rescue
measure. Mobile field hospitals catered to a colossal volume of
patients evacuated from mountain homes, who were suffering not only
from significant physical injuries but also from hypothermia and
severe psychological trauma. Very soon, complications from wound
infections, tetanus, malunion of bones, contracture formation, and
inadequate first aid began to surface on a very large scale. Gangrene
became a particular problem, leading to a second wave of amputations.
Overcrowded hospitals and congested campsites were soon treating
tetanus, as well as communicable diseases such as cholera and diphtheria.
This earthquake has been described as the biggest
natural disaster in a century. To their credit, the international
and national organizations that arrived on the scene launched one
of the most difficult rescue operations these mountains had ever
witnessed; it was swift, coordinated and, against staggering odds,
extremely efficient.
NGO efforts notwithstanding, from what I saw, it
was the generosity and ingenuity of everyday people that ultimately
changed the face of this catastrophe from irresolvable to manageable.
If one thinks of a miracle as a shift in perception from fear
to faith, then this was the story of a miracle, or perhaps a thousand
tiny miracles.
Hands literally moved mountains. Surgeons worked
seventy-two hour shifts. Nurses and theatre technicians performed
under heroic conditions; medical students assisted in procedures,
operations and first aid as if perfectly trained. Small businesses
took over relief operations for multiple tent cities and hundreds
of people. Housewives brought their personal cooking utensils on
handcarts and bicycles. Government officials buried their dead and
reported to work that same day. Plumbers, electricians, vocational
trainees, truck drivers, all became spokes in a wheel that pushed
ahead one patient, one helicopter load, at a time.
The generosity of spirit with which my BWH colleagues
and friends arranged boxes of medical supplies and supported my
endeavor in every possible way enabled me to undertake this effort,
the memory of which I will always cherish. In this business of helping
and saving lives, we live by many rules that bind and regulate our
work, but it is elemental to remember this one overarching dictum:
from time to time, we must seek meaning through service for its
own sake.
Editor's note: Medical relief efforts are ongoing
in the quake zone. If you wish to volunteer or contribute medical
supplies, please contact Naila Moghul, M.D. via email at nmoghul@partners.org.
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