We were told to be at the airport at 5:45 for our flight. After waking from a fitful and nervous sleep, we packed with the hopefulness of departure.

Nope, flights cancelled, due to inclement weather. We had breakfast and went for a walk. While at the airport I saw several tourists standing on the Tarmac with medical bags. I didn't know what I could do to help but I knew I couldn't sit by and watch.

I approached the police who were guarding the entrance to the airport and told them I was a doctor. Then I was let in and introduced to four other doctors (me being most junior) and several nurses and paramedics. Most, like me, we're here incidentally on vacation.

We were advised to expect 60-75 patients coming from the Avalanche at Everest Base Camp. Two paramedics acted as triage when the patients arrived from helicopter. They either thumbed up or down, which meant they went to the upstairs departure terminal or the downstairs arrival terminal, respectively. Thumbs up signified they were (somewhat) less acute. I was the only doctor up at the thumbs up area for most of the day, and received the majority of the patients. They ranged from head injuries, broken bones, spinal injuries, various lacerations, and punctured lungs. I took basic vital signs, and performed a rudimental examination. Taking a history was difficult as most did not speak English but I managed with the help of a Nepali nurse who spoke a bit. I gave analgesia and started IV lines, but mostly I acted as a triage director whereby I decided whether they needed to go up to Lukla Hospital or await transport to Kathmandu. It was chaotic and intense.

After what seemed like fifty helicopter deliveries (probably only about 15), we were told we were done. Four people died in transit and many more were critical. Most were Nepali but a few were Everest summit hopefuls from the UK and Australia, and tourists from Hong Kong and Japan, only going as high as base camp, (like us a few days ago).

I spoke to a young Everest hopeful around my age from the UK. He said he felt very lucky because he saw the Avalanche coming from about 100 feet away. He took off running and was lucky to sustain only a few fractured ribs. He said he was pretty sure most of his expedition team was dead. He woke, after the disaster, dazed, and didn't know where his tent and pack with his personals were. He managed to find a discarded snow suit he put on while waiting transport out of base camp. He was without money or passport as he boarded a plane to Kathmandu.

I was extremely impressed at the dedication the local Nepali boys exhibited. The Lukla hospital was one kilometre away, entirely up a steep hill. I politely barked orders at them to stretcher or assist to the hospital and it was done within minutes. And they returned ready and eager to continue working.

Women walked around passing out a sweet lemon drink, and pieces of bread. They were so caring.

The chaos worked cohesively and at the end, when we only had a few stabilized patients awaiting transport to Kathmandu, we drank a cup of hot tea and debriefed what happened.

During our debrief there was another earthquake and boy was I grateful to be in the middle of the airport, on the landing strip.

Only one of us had experienced something similar (a flight rescue paramedic). We were all in disbelief at what had transpired, the magnitude of what we had seen. And we all felt humbled and lucky. As we hugged goodbye, knowing we would never see one another again, we also all knew we would never forget each other or our experience shared.

Now I feel exhausted, dirty, and my ears are ringing from all the chopper noises. Tomorrow we hope to fly to Kathmandu and from there we will make a plan as to where to go next. Would love to continue trekking but may not be safe in Nepal so we will see.

Till then.