A Reply to Hate: Forgiving My Attacker. David Tucker
Читать онлайн книгу.
CCTV footage, and I saw that he had ran after me. But then a few seconds later I think he might have realised that there could have been more people inside. CCTV showed him running out of the Centre’s grounds, back in the direction he had come from.
Once I became confident there was no-one around, I went inside again, I put the chair down, paused, and then that horrendous pain started to really take effect. The two women asked me what happened, but all I could tell them was that someone had hit me. I think they themselves had a look outside and didn’t see anyone and then probably rushed to the prayer hall and called the others for help. Quite quickly, people started to come into the back hall where I was. By then, I was sitting on one of the wooden benches at the back of the hall grabbing tightly onto my neck. The pain was horrendous; I felt that if I were to let go of my neck that my head was going to fall off. I remember someone grabbing my right wrist to check my pulse and someone else asking me what had happened and if I could describe who attacked me. Still, there wasn’t any obvious wound or mark visible. But then someone wanted to have a look at my neck so they asked if I could let my left hand go. It was a struggle to let go. I slowly raised my head and made sure my neck was straight and gradually I was able to take my hand off. It was then that I heard: “You’ve been stabbed in the neck.”
I don’t recall clearly what immediately went through my mind when I heard that. I did not experience anxiety or panic. I simply looked at my left hand and saw there was no blood. I was able to move everything in both arms, my fingers, my wrists and my elbows. There was no tingling or heaviness anywhere in my body. My breathing was normal and so was my voice. I remember saying “I am OK”, “Alhamdullilah (praise the Lord) I am OK.” My surgical and trauma training seemed to have spontaneously kicked in, and even though I did not know where exactly the entry wound was, I knew straight away that none of the vital structures in my neck were damaged. I was able to reassure myself and others that there was no need to panic.
I was not aware that during this period someone started filming me on their phone and producing what would later become the short video that was circulated online. The video was no more than a couple of minutes long, but it did capture the moment. I still watch it with a sense of joy and relief as I believe it was a good reflection of me and I am just really glad I did not say or do something too embarrassing. I know I am a fairly level-headed and serious person, but I also like a laugh and I cannot help myself using a cliché now and again. When I realised I had been stabbed, I was heard saying on the video “The bastard got me in the neck.” This was later relayed back to me from a friend who said her little child told her “Uncle Nasser said a bad word.” That was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of the entire event; an Imam using the “B*” word. I remember that I asked ITV who requested permission to air the video to be kind enough to bleep or remove the “B*” word. It was a great relief when I watched the video on TV the following day and true to their promise, the “B*” word was gone.
So, there I was sat on the bench, again grabbing my neck firmly having realised that I had been stabbed. Unbeknownst to anyone, I had just been off work for a week on study leave to attend the annual British Orthopaedic Association conference. This week off meant that I had literally hundreds of emails to get back to. If I end up taking another week off, I thought to myself, I might end up with even twice as many emails on my return. I resolved there and then to not take any time off, silly as it may sound, but by then this is what was running through my mind, the fact that I need to go back to work the following day. I’m not sure if thinking about the next day is a consequence of the shock of what had just happened to me, but I do recall that at some point I started thinking ahead about my immediate future, probably convincing myself that there was indeed going to be an immediate future. I don’t know. Perhaps I was just not looking forward to hundreds of emails.
There was no external evidence of significant bleeding, but even so a few minutes down the line I started feeling a little faint and I knew I needed to lie down on the floor. I was aware that feeling faint was not unusual now that the adrenaline rush was winding down. The most important thing for me was to lie down and get blood to my head before I ended up fainting altogether. So, I was not so much worried about fainting, but I was also feeling a little bit queasy. I did have a minor concern in that I had just eaten before leaving home, and I knew very well that if I didn’t get down on the floor quickly, I might throw up. I really did not want to do that. I untied my belt to get comfortable, I started to breath slowly, I lay down on the floor and turned onto my right side, in a sense doing my own airway protection drill in case I did faint and throw up. In just short of a minute, it was a great relief that the sickly feeling passed and I no longer felt faint. A few moments later, the police and ambulance crew arrived.
Still the magnitude of the event had not really dawned on me. I was in my little bubble and apart from that horrendous constant pain, I was somewhat fine. The paramedic arrived and the time came for them to put a drip in my arm. Of course, it is standard procedure to put that big needle in the arm, but of all things, I hate needles. Anyway, I said to the paramedic “It’s OK”, I opened my right arm and held my breath, and fortunately the paramedic was brilliant, I felt nothing. They wanted to immobilise me like they would do for a suspected blunt neck injury, but I reassured them that I did not have a blunt neck injury and there is no likelihood of me having suffered a broken neck. Anyhow, standard procedure carried on and I was put in a scoop. As they were about to carry me away, I remember people saying they needed to inform my wife, and I said, “Please don’t, please don’t tell her anything yet.” I just could not bear the thought that she wasn’t in a position to know what had happened to me, and to know that I’m physically and emotionally okay. I did not want her to be upset, but I later found out that by the time I was scooped, she had already been made aware of the attack. So, there I was on a funny little trip to the ambulance parked just outside the Centre, strapped into this narrow flimsy scoop, having to cede all control. As we went down those four steps that I earlier cleared with one jump the scoop felt wobbly, and I wondered if I was going to fall out. Soon I was being secured in the back of the ambulance. That drive was not a comfortable ride by any measure. It was an experience; the siren, the flashing lights and flying through the streets with no concept of time or direction, but I was not physically comfortable. Very soon, the back doors of the ambulance were flung open, and I was carried into Wythenshawe Hospital, my hospital.
Chapter 3
Hospital
This is insider information, but if you are unfortunate enough to be stabbed in Manchester, it is very likely that you would be rushed to Manchester Royal infirmary. This is neither my local hospital nor the hospital I work at and I did not want to end up there. I had somewhat cheekily asked the ambulance crew if they would take me to my local hospital. It was my decision, and I wanted to be treated where everyone knew me. By the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital I was no longer strapped to the scoop looking at the ceiling. I was now sitting slightly up, starting to get a sense of my surroundings.
As per protocol, the ambulance crew would have called in the incident and the trauma team were waiting, ready to receive the injured victim. The team would normally include one of my orthopaedic trainees, but it also happened that at the time, one of my consultant colleagues was attending the emergency department along with the on-duty orthopaedic registrar. I did not expect that they would be present, but equally, no one had a clue who the victim was. Later, my consultant colleague informed me that on that afternoon, she was about to leave but decided instead to wait in order to make sure her services were not required. She was not prepared for the shock that would hit her. No one was. As I was wheeled into the resuscitation room the stretcher gradually turned around and I came face to face with my colleague and trainees standing side by side. I instinctively smiled at them, but all I could see was three white faces, wide eyed and totally stunned. The site of my junior trainee was unforgettable. His jaw literally dropped, and I watched his face turn white. They were totally dumbfounded, but they rushed to hold my hand and comfort me. The reality was that they also needed some comforting, some reassurance that I was alright. The shock on their faces at that moment was priceless, but in that moment I could see what they meant to me and what I meant to them, and I was grateful to be there with them.
It did not take long before we all had to snap out of this emotional encounter and start acting professionally.