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In November 2017 I left behind family, friends and a budding career in emergency medicine to
fly to Rothera Research Station, as a medical officer for the British Antarctic Survey Medical Unit. I spent two summers and a winter on the continent, before returning to the UK in March 2019 via South Georgia.
Rothera, found at 67 degrees south on the Antarctic Peninsula, is the largest of five remote scientific bases belonging to the British Antarctic Survey (BAS), an organisation delivering world-leading polar research. Much of the current polar science is focused on understanding the planet’s capability to adapt to the devastating effects of climate change.
It is summer in the Southern Hemisphere. The distinctive guttural roar of an elephant seal disturbs my sleep and I awake early to a brightly- lit room with the never-setting sun streaming through the window. I stroll across the rocky yard to an olive-green building, supported by pillars and framed by far-off mountains: the beating heart of life at Rothera. I pause to absorb the
Kate Dillon on the RRS Shackleton
cerulean blue of freshly calved glacial ice, the faint taste of salty seaside air and the confused expression of a velvet Weddell seal, its head reared in surprise at the intrusion of passing footsteps. After a breakfast of fresh fruit and bread, it is time for work. I lead a tour around the station before heading to the surgery – sandwiched between the gym, the plumber’s workshop and a dated display of the old sledge dogs’ family tree – finding a colleague waiting patiently. Station life is soon interrupted. My radio crackles to life, a pervasive and ominous presence on my hip, and I hold my breath, in perpetual anticipation of a desperate plea for help. “All stations. All stations. Orca seen spy-hopping in Ryder Bay....” I breathe out, smile and reach for my binoculars.
Being a remote medic is a world away from the hustle and bustle of the NHS emergency departments I knew so well. My patients are young, fit and healthy, and they are not strangers to me. The transient population is a varied mix of scientists, pilots, technicians, divers and chefs, with women accounting for less than a third of the team.
There are two doctors during the summer season and one in winter. Our primary role is the management of medical emergencies and, as such, we have specialist pre- deployment training to cover trauma, mental health, physiotherapy, dental and hyperbaric medicine (there is a dive chamber on site). We also perform occupational medicals, monitor stock, run the post office and shop, give station tours and train the first aid team in advanced skills. After all, the nearest hospital is 1,860km away! Our facilities are limited compared with a hospital, but we have a digital X-ray machine and an extensive pharmacy, as well as the telemedicine support of a consultant-led team in Plymouth.
From October to March, Rothera is a vibrant summer station, connected to South America by the scarlet Dash-7 aircraft and two ice- strengthened research vessels, which visit infrequently for the annual restock of food, fuel and other vital necessities. Soon, the Sir David Attenborough (known to the less discerning amongst you as ‘Boaty McBoatface’) will be launched for sea trials. This is just one step in a vast modernisation project currently underway, including the total reconstruction of the Rothera wharf and buildings. Meanwhile, four equally dazzling scarlet Twin Otter aircraft provide support to the scientists who camp in the deep field. These camps also fall under my medical radar, which means I had the daunting task of being on-call for an area the size of Europe.
In my first summer I was lucky enough to fly to BEAMISH camp (co- pilots are needed on all BAS flights), found at 78 degrees south and sitting on an ice stream under the watchful eye of Mount Vinson (the highest
FEATURE
The Antarctic doctor
Kate Dillon (D 08) writes about her 18 months on the coldest, highest, driest and windiest continent on Earth
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THE OLD OUNDELIAN 2018 –2019