Remembrance Sunday: Lest We Forget

I always find Remembrance Sunday profoundly moving. For one day, politics is forgotten. For one day, debates over why the wars happened, and for what reason cease. Instead, we remember those who did give up their lives for us, and the many more affected by war.

The numbers are staggering. Millions of young men and women taken too soon. Many of them were just children really, in their late teens and early twenties. Those who came home often had their scars, either physical or psychological.

As a nurse, I think of the nursing staff who served, and who are serving now. Particularly in the First and Second World Wars, it must have been terrifying seeing casualties coming into the field hospitals with little medical supplies and little medical experience to help. Seeing the hospital set up at Camp Bastion during a documentary, fully equipped with CT and MRI scanners, and fully equipped intensive care departments shows how far we have come.

I owe a lot to the medical advances made in plastic surgery after the First and Second World Wars. Many who came back with horrific burns and injuries went to the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead, and because of their injuries, massive advances were made in skin grafting, in skin and nerve transplants, and in surgical aftercare. I had the majority of my surgeries there since 1997. I owe it to them and the pioneering medical team to say thank you.

Medical advances are still being made today as a result of the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. When I worked in Intensive Care, we had a consultant who had worked in the RAF as a trauma consultant. He brought back a new protocol for blood transfusions, in particular in the use of platelet transfusions. There have been such advances out of such horrendous situations.

For those who gave their lives for us, I give you my thanks. We will never forget.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

L

I remember the first time I saw L. I remember realising I had a crush on him. I remember his smile as we flirted, 6 years later. I remember the feel of his knee against mine, as we reviewed each other's Spotify playlists at a leaving party. I remember the fear as I asked him out for a drink 3 days later.  I remember the elation when he said yes, after a long ten minutes staring at my phone.  I don't remember what I wore to our first date.  I remember the feel of his lips on mine, standing outside Covent Garden station.   I remember our first inside joke. I remember him meeting me at the station so we could walk to work together.  I remember the feel of his fingers holding mine. I remember him kissing me as a busker sang Ed Sheeran songs. I remember him telling me I was beautiful.   I remember feeling safe.  I remember staying up until the early hours of the morning talking.  I remember waking up and curling up into him, his lips meeting my forehead.  I rem
Read more

Grief

There's a saying in nursing "Pain is what the patient says it is". It basically means that everyone's pain is specific to them, to their perception, and to how they are dealing with it. Today, my pain is 10/10. Unbearable, and uncontrollable. It will sound trite to people, however yesterday we lost our family cat, Abbey. She was an old girl (a rescue cat so we were never sure how old she was, but we had her 16 years, and she was a few years old by that point), and she was getting progressively more frail, but when my mum called yesterday to say she had deteriorated, I knew the time had come. I know everyone says this about their pets, but Abbey was one of a kind. She was kind - she never bit or scratched (apart from my parents' leather sofa, which was a constant victim much to my mother's frustration), she loved nothing more than a cuddle and mum's breakfast, she was naughty and bullied me - the weak link - until she got what she wanted, which she alw
Read more