Lest we forget.

Where were you at 11am last Thursday, 11th November 2021? I was in our hospital chapel. It’s a simple place, stripped down to the bare essentials for worship. One wall has some coloured glass panels, a nod in the direction perhaps of the more traditional stained glass windows of older churches. The altar and pulpit were made of oak, with the minimum of decoration. There are no pews, just stackable chairs, which on Thursday were arranged to ensure social distancing was possible. All in all, it is an unpretentious space. But in the maelstrom of a busy acute hospital, it is also an oasis of calm, peacefulness and hope.  

I was there to take part in our Remembrance Service. I had been asked to read the now famous poem ‘The Fields of Flanders’. It was a real privilege to be able to do so. It was in the Spring of 1915, that a Canadian doctor called John McCrae wrote the poem after seeing poppies growing in the battle-scarred landscape of Ypres, in Belgium. This small town saw the first time chemical warfare used in conflict, so also maintains a close relationship with Hiroshima, a place where nuclear warfare was first used. It was one of the places where the British and German forces unofficially stopped fighting to celebrate Christmas - the so called ‘Christmas Truce’.

Today the poppy is a symbol of remembrance and hope, including hope for a positive future and a peaceful world. The poppy is a symbol of support for the Armed Forces community, both those who have served and who may no longer be with us, as well as those folk who continue to protect us and keep us safe.

Reading the short poem was a humbling experience for me. It made me feel connected to a place, a time, a conflict that I have no knowledge of. My parents, although affected by the last World War, were too young to have fought in it. I have never experienced the horrors of war. The nearest I have got to knowing anyone in the Armed Forces is our young sea cadet animal sitter who wants to train as a doctor in the Navy when she is able. Yet, last Thursday, standing in that small stark chapel, I felt a huge sense of connection.

I’m sure many of us will today too. It is Remembrance Sunday. It is different from Remembrance Day. November 11th is Remembrance Day or Armistice Day to give it its proper name - the day in 1918 that Germany and the Allies agreed to stop fighting on land, sea and air in the first World War. Remembrance Sunday, which is always held on the second Sunday of November, is a time to pay tribute to all those who fought in both the World Wars and other conflicts around the world. The last time that Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday fell on the same day was 2018, and it won’t occur again until 2029. This year maybe the last year that our Queen can actively participate in the Remembrance service. I hope not.

Last Thursday, I was joined by patients and colleagues in that small chapel and by many more folk who participated online, as the service was livestreamed. Then, after this brief pause and act of remembrance, it was back to meeting the needs of our patients, their relatives and the communities they came from. Thankfully we are not in a world war any longer, but we are joined in the fight to deal with Covid19. Last Thursday, 151 people died from Covid in the UK. Since the start of the pandemic, some 143,000 people in the UK have died from the virus. Of course, whilst this number of deaths cannot compare to the estimated 22 million deaths of the first Word War, every life is precious and every person who has died from Covid was someone’s daughter, son, husband, wife, mother, father, brother or sister.  

Of those 22 million people who died during the first World War, several millions of soldiers died from the flu pandemic that was also raging at the time. The earliest case of what became known as the ‘Spanish Flu’ was in March 1918, in the US. By April of that year, it had spread to Europe and the UK. It was one of the deadliest pandemics in human history. It is estimated that during the two years of the pandemic 17 to 50 million people died from the flu. As of this morning, 5,110,862 people worldwide have died of Covid. Strangely, Spanish Flu disproportionately killed more young people than older adults. Hypercytokinemia was thought to be largely the cause, but why this was is not fully understood, although poor infection prevention and control measures were often the norm at this time, and that may have been a major contributor to the high numbers of deaths.

Back in the present, our hospital has suspended patient visiting once again. This is due to a couple of Covid outbreaks occurring. While folk coming onto the site won’t be the only cause of these outbreaks, we do know that at least 1 in 5 people have Covid, but are completely free of any symptoms. Without strict adherence to frequent hand washing, social distancing, good ventilation and mask wearing, these unknown Covid carriers will continue to unwittingly spread infection. While vaccination remains the best defence against Covid, as we have seen in recent media reports, many people still refuse to get vaccinated. Sadly, this also includes many colleagues working in health and social care services.

I say sadly, because as today we remember all those who gave so much for the rest of us, and all those still serving in the Armed Forces today, we should also remember the more than 1,500 NHS staff who have so far died as a direct consequence of catching Covid. To me that is an immensely sad fact. I make no apologies for this blog being a bit of a history lesson. Sometimes it’s important to actively remember through the retelling of stories. So, like all those who lost their lives through conflict, let us not forget those who lost their lives trying to help those many people who, in their time of most need, turned to the NHS for help.