I found learning in the clinical environment different to learning in a lecture hall, or laboratory or simulation suite. Suddenly jargon becomes tangible and has emotions. All the knowledge becomes the patient; it is the patient. It is a unique experience that brings every piece of the puzzle together and creates a beautiful piece of art. Those puzzle pieces are science. They are compassion. They are life in its entirety.

During a shift as a nursing assistant at the BRI I was asked by the nurse to accompany a patient and their family on a walk around the hospital so that the patient changes environment or ‘scenery’ as the nurse put it. This patient had suffered a major stroke and lost the ability to speak, eat and walk (they could also no longer understand English, but only Arabic). The clinicians on the ward found it almost impossible to communicate and were always waiting for the patient’s family to arrive and come to their rescue.

In this situation, one could argue that there is a direct breach of the Equality Act which underlies the NHS services – that all patients with no exception should receive the same quality of treatment. But then what can one do in a situation where even an interpreter is of no use?

On our way to the ninth-floor cafeteria I found myself lost in thought. Whilst finding out more about the family and their lives, I was trying to imagine how I would react if one day I lost my ability to communicate. I found it impossible. There were no words that could give justice to what this family was going through.

However, the most remarkable moment of that experience was when I stepped back and let the family enjoy the view. This is exactly what this drawing depicts. The patient’s face lit up. They were surrounded by loved ones – their family. Despite the situation, they were all absorbed in the beauty of Bristol from above. There were other people in the room, but it seemed as if they were alone. A spotlight of their own, in a performance from which they could not escape. Thus, I decided to draw them as the sole thing in the room in my artwork. It was overwhelming but simultaneously very soft, sweet and warm.

In retrospect, this moment only evidenced further the concept of resilience. In theory, connectedness and family aid the person undergoing a difficult or adverse situation to recover faster. This experience is a living proof of that. It may be that the patient did not recover from the stroke, but this moment certainly helped a broken psyche to mend a bit more.