Volunteer encounters grief and wrath of people who have lost loved ones to Covid

VOLUNTEER Aliimran Nordin has witnessed up close the expression of grief by those who have lost loved ones to Covid-19.

Some talk about the things they will miss doing with the ones they have lost, but there are others who take their loss and anger out on him.

It leaves him emotionally drained at the end of the day, but he understands that it comes with the job.

Aliimran, a former senior lecturer and now a user-experience specialist, said he was prompted to answer a call to volunteer at the frontline of the Covid-19 war by reports of rapid increases in the daily number of new infections and fatalities.

He is part of a 50-man team helping relatives identify their dearly departed at Pusara WPKL, a temporary mortuary rendering support to the Kuala Lumpur Hospital.

The volunteers are tasked with assisting relatives of Covid casualties go through the identification process, before the remains are taken away by health authorities for burial.

As can be expected, it is an emotional process.

Aliimran recounted a case where a 13-year-old girl was there with an uncle to identify her mother’ remains.

“I asked her what was the nicest thing she remembered about her mother and she said: ‘Mee goreng Mak’,” Aliimran told theSun.

“She said it tasted so good, and was unlike others.”

However, volunteers are also not spared scathing and disparaging remarks of grieving next-of-kin.

In recounting an occasion when a man vented his anger at him, Aliimran said: “I took a step back to avoid him, all the time conscious of the need to ensure there is no physical contact between us.

“I was shocked. I could not understand why a stranger would swear at me, but I assumed that he was going through a bad time.

“I was not in his shoes so I could not understand how bad it was for him,” he said, adding that he expressed sympathy rather than reacting in retaliation to the grieving man.

Volunteers are also tasked with identifying those who have had close contact with the deceased. However, many do not give a straight answer.

“They usually say they have not, but we pry with several questions to get to the truth,” Aliimran said.

A health inspector would then decide if the person would be allowed into the one-stop centre to have one last look at the deceased.

He said those who have had close contact could still be allowed to go through the identification process, but through a video link.

Others are allowed into the white tents where the remains are placed, but they must wear a personal protection suit.

To help volunteers overcome the impact to their emotions, the hospital has made counsellors available for consultation.

Aliimran said he would have thrown in the towel if not for the services of the counsellors, who are stationed on site to ensure volunteers are able to express themselves emotionally and to forge on in the daunting tasks ahead.

“The first two weeks were the most difficult,” he said, adding that every expression of grief he witnessed would make him think about his family.

“I would wonder: ‘What if this was a member of my own family?’”

Away from work, the emotional reaction from family and friends he related his experiences to were just as poignant.

“Whenever I tried to share my experiences, it would make them cry. My family was also concerned about my safety.”

However, with help from the counsellors, he found the strength the continue.

Aliimran expressed hope that someday, he would be able to share his experiences with government agencies for the benefit of future volunteers.