Dr. Dennis Whitehead, M.D., is an International Medical Corps volunteer who lives in Iron Mountain, Michigan.
Perched on enormous grain bags, we peer out the windows of the Mi-17 cargo helicopter as its twin turbines struggle to climb higher into the mountains above the Kunhar River, north of Balakot. The skillful Pakistan Army pilots maneuver for landing on a small clearing in the hamlet of Balasari, just below the snowline. Cold, hungry villagers huddle in fright at the edge of the makeshift pad, braving the downwash to get first crack at the food and tents we are bringing.
International Medical Corps is the first relief organization to set up an overnight clinic here. Our team of three doctors and a pharmacist takes in the wondrous beauty of this Himalayan valley as the helicopter departs, its cargo quickly hauled away. Villagers are excited we have come to treat them. Elders lead us to the edge of a cliff where a red and white schoolhouse is perched, now unused. The October 8 quake has left a huge crack down the middle of a wall, but we can see patients under an overhang just outside the schoolroom. Within minutes, dozens are lined up, and by the time the sun drops behind western peaks we have seen nearly 200 patients. We promise to open up again early the next morning.
One of the elders has brought us hot chai tea, most welcome in the cold. He invites us to a meal at his home above the village, but as we begin our hike a feverish man with a severe cough is led in on a mule. He is profoundly sad and says little. His friends tell us his son died the previous day from pneumonia. I stay behind with our pharmacist to give him antibiotic injections and medicine to help his breathing. As the group moves off into the darkness I can’t help but feel sorry we were not here a day earlier to help his son.
When we awaken at dawn the next morning there are many patients huddled in the cold at the schoolhouse. In the next five hours we see 225 patients, working non-stop until our supplies are completely gone. Many stay to hug us in thanks. The thumping of a Huey’s rotors summons us back to the helipad for the trip out, and we bring several of the sickest with us for treatment in hospitals to the south. We tell the villagers we’ll request a return visit from another team, but with so many remote areas still lacking any medical assistance, I don’t know when Balasari will see doctors again.
The next day we are airlifted to the more isolated village of Tandol. The story begins all over again