"I Was a Doctor for the Taliban"

Aaron Singh -- Thanks to all who commented on my last post. Whilst some of you misunderstood what I wanted to convey (I was not, repeat, WAS NOT insulting surgeons, I was commenting on a minority who do the profession no good by flaunting their egos beyond reason), I found the comments enlightening, especially since I harbour dreams of joining the ranks of surgeons myself someday. My curiosity piqued, I was driven by the reaction generated by my post (and by the crowds of angry surgeons baying outside my door) to delve deeper into the world of surgery. This opportunity presented itself when Mr Philip Henman, an orthopaedic surgeon, came to Cambridge to deliver a talk called "Conflict Surgery: The Great Game from the Sidelines." (By the way, in the UK surgeons are referred to as "Mr.")

Mr Henman has a special interest in providing surgical care in war-torn areas and has served with both the International Red Cross and the British Territorial Army. His most recent assignment, and the one that formed the bulk of his talk, was in Afghanistan, where he served before the war broke out. At that time, the Taliban were seen as bringing modernisation to the country, and indeed he found that whilst theoretically his camp was there to treat and augment the British forces in the area, many of his patients came from the local population.

In fact, he was essentially a doctor for the Taliban.

After a long, harrowing bus journey to the Cambridge hospital (which is some distance away from the University) involving a delay of more than an hour, a huge angry Scottish bus driver, and a storm intent on blowing my umbrella away, I stumbled into the lecture theatre just as Mr Henman was being introduced. He started off with gory pictures of injuries sustained from landmines, a step-by-step run-through of the types of injuries caused by projectile weapons and different calibres of bullets, and some weapon-related operations he performed. (It was at this point that I realised it was probably not a good idea to be stuffing your face full of the refreshments provided when a picture of a blown-off leg flashed onscreen.)

Then came the part everyone was waiting for: tales from the frontier. Mr Henman gave us a firsthand picture of what life really was like out there in war zones: the lack of proper resources and First World operating theatres, the eventual desensitisation to gunfire in the distance, the need to keep yourself going with simple pleasures like taking a walk in the hills. The patients weren’t the only ones at risk of dying out in the field hospitals.

Working with the locals also gave him an insight into their ways and lives. Mr Henman put up a picture of a smiling Afghan man with a flower in his mouth; this playful-looking dude with a huge beard was, in fact, the local Taliban commanding officer. He explained that whilst today’s world might view this man as a dangerous terrorist, back then he just wanted to open a hotel. "All the Taliban wanted to do was to start from scratch, restore order to Afghanistan, settle down and then, you know, open some hotels," he told us, grinning widely.

And then, as all surgeons do when speaking about surgeons, he got onto the surgeon’s ego bit. Just like any other surgical specialty (or indeed any other part of medicine, for that matter), conflict surgery can be dangerously addictive. Many surgeons volunteer for missions abroad to add a little spice to their careers, and maybe to tack a little glory onto their CVs. But then you get the adrenaline junkies, the ones who relish being in control and having so much power, the ones who go out repeatedly on missions to the most dangerous locales, risking life and limb. Often these were surgeons who had no families to speak of, and many were also disillusioned with medicine in their home countries (here in the UK the culprit is often the National Health System).

Mr Henman also added, however, (and here I completely agree with him) that these surgeons, whilst demonstrating personality quirks like a massive ego and obsession with their work, were also tremendous assets to international aid organisations, simply for their willingness to be sent out into the field repeatedly.

His talk was enlightening in more than just a medical way. Many of the questions he fielded after the talk were about Afghanistan, and how rather than being a nation of bloodthirsty terrorists as painted by the media, it contained ordinary people living ordinary lives, just like anywhere else. But the medical aid worker’s perspective is unique. Often medicine is not so clear-cut out in the field as it is in a hospital.