On a rainy August day in 2019, I walked to Newcastle’s Royal Victoria Infirmary for my thyroid treatment. I could not afford the bus ticket – as an asylum seeker, I only received £4.80 per day to live on. That one-hour walk in the rain was just another part of my daily life back then.
I felt really nervous sitting in the specialist’s office. During our chat, the doctor was doing his job properly, asking about my lifestyle and living situation as part of understanding my overall health. When he asked where I lived and how I managed day-to-day, I had no choice but to tell him about my asylum seeker housing and circumstances. My heart was racing – I had experienced such awful reactions before. So many times, when people had heard about my status, they would ask why I did not go back home, or make comments about asylum seekers taking jobs and using taxpayers’ money. These words always made me feel tiny and scared.
But this doctor was different. When I quietly explained about living in an asylum accommodation, he smiled warmly. Even though he had another patient to see in 30 minutes, he took the time to share something really special with me.
“When I was little,” he told me, “my grandfather used to tell me stories about coming to Britain as a Jewish refugee.” His eyes lit up as he spoke about his grandfather. “I am who I am today because of him and his brave journey. His stories inspired me to become a doctor.”
In that moment, something beautiful happened. This Jewish doctor, whose own family had once fled persecution, was showing kindness to me – someone from a different background, a different religion, seeking safety just like his grandfather had done. He did not see me as an asylum seeker or as someone different. He just saw me as a person who needed help.
It made me think – what if someone who did not like refugees came to this doctor, not knowing his family story? Would they think differently if they knew the person helping them came from a refugee family? Being a doctor truly is a noble job – they help everyone, no matter who they are or where they come from.
Later, when I worked as a vaccination volunteer, I saw first-hand how hard doctors and nurses work in the NHS. They treat everyone with the same care and kindness. That special doctor even helped me in an unexpected way – he changed my medicine, and since then, my health problem has been much better.
Now, five years later, I often think about that rainy day. The doctor’s kindness spread like honey – sweet and healing. When people show understanding and compassion, it helps stop hatred and brings people together. It does not matter if we are Jewish, Muslim, Christian, or any other faith – kindness speaks all languages.
I am writing this story with hope in my heart. My mum always used to tell me that when you share something meaningful, something good comes back to you. As I write these words, I dream of my grandchildren reading them someday. I imagine them sitting perhaps in their comfortable homes or maybe in their own doctor’s offices – because who knows what beautiful things they might become? I dream that they will read this and understand that their grandfather’s journey, though difficult, was filled with moments of unexpected kindness that changed everything.
Maybe they will be doctors themselves, inspired by their grandfather’s story like that Jewish doctor. Or maybe they will be teachers, engineers, or simply kind people who remember this story and choose to treat others with compassion. I hope they will be proud to know that their family’s story, like the Jewish doctor’s family story, is one of resilience and hope.
Like the famous quote from another doctor at Arriva Bus company says, “Sir, please sit back and really enjoy your treatment.” That is exactly what this Jewish doctor helped me do – feel comfortable and cared for, just like any other patient.
Today, when I remember those difficult days of living on £4.80 per day, I do not feel sad anymore. Instead, I think about the kind people like this doctor who showed me that compassion has no borders, no religion, and no limits. His grandfather’s refugee story helped create a doctor who now helps others, showing how goodness can pass down through generations like a river of hope.
I still remember walking home that day in the rain, but somehow, the rain did not feel as cold. It is amazing how one person’s kindness can change not just your day, but your whole outlook on life. And to my grandchildren who might read this one day – I want you to know that your grandfather faced hard times but also found incredible kindness along the way. I hope this story inspires you to be that kind person for someone else.
You see, every story of kindness creates ripples. That Jewish doctor’s grandfather probably never imagined his refugee story would one day help comfort another. Thank you everyone for reading my blog. If you wish to get in touch with your comments- please email me- at abirking1988@gmail.com.
