ST. GEORGE - As a boy, Dr. Bhupendra Patel would accompany his father on international medical trips to assist others in need. Through the World Health Organization, his father established clinics worldwide. Today Patel, who practices monthly at the Zion Eye Institute in St. George and in Salt Lake City, continues that work offering medical assistance globally.

Through generous donations from Utahns such as the Roche family and John and Carol Moran and through the support of Professor Randall Olson, chief chairman of the Moran Eye Center and the University of Utah, Patel was able to travel to Sri Lanka in March to aid victims of the Dec. 26, 2004 tsunami.

In the past 18 to 20 years, Patel has completed two to three trips a year, stepping in to render assistance at the sites of countless international disasters. While he enjoys his practice in the states, Patel says offering assistance abroad is different, providing an experience where medical professionals like Patel come away from with a deeper meaning and greater perspective.

"Its a great feeling to be in Sri Lanka, India, Kenya, Ethiopia, Taiwan, Turkey - and feel like you really are a citizen of the world," Patel says. Images of the tsunami aftermath in Sri Lanka flash across his computer as he speaks.

"You leave with a rather renewed sense of what being a doctor is," Patel says. "In the U.S. it seems a bit of a business or a trade - most physicians and offices run on a business sense. You don't get that sense of really being in the thick of things, where you're truly helping people."

Patel arrived in Sri Lanka six weeks after the tsunami and stayed 10 days, working as many hours of medical assistance as possible.

Patel speaks of his experience and the turmoil the people of Sri Lanka suffered, including the resulting lawlessness and despair - as well as the hope that, for some, aid efforts may have restored.

Sticks and stones

Patel compared his medical experiences throughout Sri Lanka to a "M.A.S.H" unit. Patel worked in towns that dotted the coast from Colombo to Galle, like Unawatuna, Matara and Hambantota - a town almost completely swept away within minutes by the tsunami.

Even the biggest hospital in Colombo had peeling paint, leaky faucets and limited resources. Nail brushes, for instance, the most basic tool for cleaning hands prior to surgery, were a precious commodity. Still, local residents took delicate care of the family's medical records - they were carried in the most expensive bag the family owned and guarded them closely.

Doctors initially attempted to establish "guidelines," saying they would only be able to help children affected by the tsunami. But with hundreds lining up at the building and packing the three waiting rooms, the cap didn't hold for long.

"We operated on those injured by the tsunami and not sustained in the tsunami," Patel says.

Everyone was in some way affected by the tsunami, directly or indirectly. The disaster impacted the entire country, lawlessness abounded, child trafficking increased and guerilla warfare continued.

Patel's voice carries a note of remorse for those he wanted to help but couldn't because of time constraints and sheer numbers. The scenes that flash across Patel's laptop bespeak the lawlessness throughout the country in the wake of the tsunami - the face of a stunning, beautiful woman whose face was lacerated by "thugs" and a little girl about 6 years old who sustained injuries in an attack when men tried to abduct her.

Even in the midst of such a horrific natural disaster, turf wars continued. Patel treated patients who sustained atrocious injuries, including burns and lacerations sustained from territorial battles that were fought by any means or mechanism. If no other means existed, sticks and stones were used - others threw acid on their foes.

An image of a Buddhist monk wearing brilliant orange robes flashes by, the man's skin raw, scalded and blistered from head to toe.

Listing the Dead

As Patel speaks, he reflects on the impact certain scenes left him with, scenes that for him drove home the true extent of the loss those in tsunami stricken villages experience. In most every village and town a small triangle of white cloth hung, each one representing a life lost. Upon entering towns, Patel says, the white flags would line the streets for one mile, two, then three. After three miles, the white flags continued to fill the line of sight. At those moments Patel understood, at least in part, what the country and its people suffered.

A scene from the country's ski blue ocean and white sand beaches stayed with Patel. At day's end, Patel says, he and his colleagues would see families just standing there, looking out to the sea. As they stood at the ocean's edge, appearing to look at nothing, the families would mutter in their native tongue.

"It was eerie to see grown adults just mutter away," Patel says. The scene became so unnerving, Patel inquired of the locals. The words they muttered were Buddhist prayers - families were asking for the ocean to deliver their children back to them.

In the dark waiting room inside Zion Eye Institute, an image appears on Patel's screen of a mother gripping her child. The storm in her eyes contrasts the soothing background of a calm blue sky and latent ocean.

The reach of humanity

Despite the despondency and despair many experienced, those who delivered aid and support helped restore hope as residents worked to rebuild some semblance of their lives. Patel was able to assist one little girl with eye cancer. The girl had refused to return to school after children tagged her with the name "durga," or devil's face, because of the protruding eye.

Patients often cry while waking from anesthesia after surgery and Patel assumed the girls cries and her attempts to reach for him were simply anesthesia related. The doctor later learned over dinner, the word the girl repeated as she reached for him was "daddy." Masked and gowned, the girl could only see Patel's skin color, a tone that matched her own. But the local medical staff said it was enough to remind her of her father, who was lost to the tsunami.

"The kids always got to you," Patel says. "Even though it sounds cliche - when you'd see a child sitting there, you wanted to see what you could do to help."

A picture flashes again, this time it's the face of a happy, smiling young girl: The girl previously tagged "durga." Patel's work restored her appearances, and her integrity. It was the first photo Patel had seen of the girl smiling.

Another child, born profoundly blind, also lost family in the tsunami. While Patel's work couldn't restore the little girl's sight, it did allow her to see light. Patel paints a picture of her world, a world much like being in a room completely dark. When the slightest bit of light illuminates the room, the subject can see enough to know in which direction to move. After surgery, the child sang a nursery rhyme in her language as doctors examined her eyes. As the pen light passed across her eyes, her singing stopped as she followed the movement of the light with her head and reached out for it with her small hand. Her mother began crying with delight.

"The results and feedback from patients is truly heartwarming," Patel says.

Although by the trip's end, Patel boarded the plane exhausted and ready to come home, something drew him back to it.

"I don't know if I can give you one single reason as to why I do this," Patel says.

For Patel this particular trip was particularly enjoyable.

"At the end of the day sitting in the lobby with an American psychiatrist, a British orthopedic surgeon, Korean general surgeon - at one time we had about 22 nationalities. It was like being back at school, chit chatting about the days events," he says.

As doctors shared their experiences, Patel says the true heroes emerged.

"It made me realize how little each of us really did, in terms of numbers of surgeries," he says. "Those who made the greatest impact helped families cope with losses, get back to life."

Like building houses and rebuilding lives. In regard to the relief effort, the one element the entire international team of acclaimed medical professionals agreed upon was that the true hero was a psychologist who had worked with large groups of children helping them learn how to collect their lives and move on.

In May, Patel will leave for Columbia to operate on children in Bogota.

Originally published April 17, 2005