The Ripple Effect of Compassion: From Live Aid to Patient Advocacy

As we commerate the 40th anniversary of Live Aid, held on July 13, 1985, I find myself reflecting on the enduring power of our words and actions. A few months ago, I had the chance to see the Mirvish production Just for One Day, a musical tribute to the iconic benefit concert. The show was vibrant, full of electrifying performances and nostalgia. But one particular scene quietly stole the spotlight for me.

It was a flashback to Ethiopia in 1984, where Dame Claire Bertschinger, a Red Cross nurse, was working in the midst of a devastating famine. The scene captured her distress as she sat in anguish, struggling to find the words to express what was happening around her. Then a voice perhaps her own thoughts whispered, “Tell them what you think. Share the truth.”

That moment felt deeply moving and achingly real. In life, Claire did speak reluctantly, to BBC reporter Michael Buerk, revealing the harrowing reality she was witnessing. Her words were honest, raw, and filled with pain.

What many don’t know is that Claire’s journey to that moment was anything but easy. She struggled with dyslexia and was unable to read or write until the age of 14. But she was determined to help others and change the world. She became a nurse, earned a pilot’s license, and joined the Red Cross, eager to serve in conflict zones. Her resilience and drive led her to Ethiopia, where she found herself making life-or-death decisions daily, marking children with coal to indicate who might survive.

Her televised interview reached millions, including Bob Geldof, watching from his home in England. Moved to action, he helped launch the charity single Do They Know It’s Christmas, and eventually organized Live Aid, a global benefit concert that brought together 58 bands, performed across two continents, and reached an estimated 1.9 billion viewers. The event raised over $140 million for famine relief and shifted global conversations around poverty and aid.

But none of it would have happened without Claire’s moment of vulnerability.

Watching that scene, I couldn’t help but take it personally. It reminded me of how often I’ve asked myself: Does sharing my experience with eczema really help anyone? Talking about cracked skin, missed medications, or travel challenges doesn’t feel world-changing. But Claire didn’t know the impact her words would have either.

At a medical conference, I once heard a physician pause mid-presentation to say, “For years we were taught not to ask patients for their input. But now we know how wrong that was.” That moment, and Claire’s story, affirmed something powerful: our voices matter. Not because they’re loud, but because they’re real.

Claire was later honored as a Dame by Queen Elizabeth II for her humanitarian work. Her legacy proves that what we choose to say and what we choose to do can ripple far beyond what we ever imagined.

So I’ll keep speaking. Whether it means listening to a patient’s struggles, responding to a parent’s questions, or offering insight to a physician, I believe those moments matter.

Even if it’s just for one day.