Ahmed Alsayed
January 2025
Ahmed
Alsayed
,
67203
psychiatric ward
Irada and Mental Health Complex in Taif
jeddah
Saudi Arabia
In one corner of the hospital…
lay a patient who didn’t speak up, didn’t object, didn’t ask. He just kept silent.
A child in a man’s body, haunted by autism spectrum disorder, living behind walls of isolation and silence, which no one entered.
The closer someone approached him, the more confused he became…
Whenever they tried to transfer him to his appointment at another hospital, he became afraid, cowered, and refused.
He wasn’t stubborn, but he was drowning in unbearable anxiety…
Anxiety of the unknown, of leaving, of the many hands, of the cars, of the change.
The attempts were repeated.
Each time they ended in tears, screaming, postponement…
As if the medical team was trying to cross an invisible bridge, but no one had the keys.
Until one day, nurse Ahmed Saleh El-Sayed was on duty.
He looked at the patient… Not as a medical file, nor as a difficult case, but as a frightened soul quietly pleading for help.
The patient was silent, but Ahmed heard his silence…
He understood him without him saying a word.
He approached him with rare calm, without rushing…
He sat beside him, carrying neither an order nor a plan, just his presence.
Then, with extreme kindness, he extended his hand and placed it on the patient’s shoulder, a light pat…
a pat unlike that of a nurse… more like a mother when she fears for her child.
That pat was more than a touch…
It was a language.
A new language was born between them, not spoken with words, but understood with the heart.
And as it was repeated, the patient began to respond.
Slowly, with hesitant confidence, he stood up… and extended his hand to Ahmed.
Something about that moment was like a miracle…
The medical team saw what they had never seen before:
The patient walking beside Ahmed, calm, reassured, without resistance…
as if there was a secret pact between shoulder and hand… between two hearts.
And during the transfer, these were not ordinary steps, but a profound therapeutic journey.
Ahmed wasn’t accompanying a body… he was embracing a soul.
Whenever the patient became confused, he patted him on the shoulder…
And every pat said: “I am here… I will not leave you.”
With a simple, yet compassionate innovation, Ahmed invented a nonverbal means of communication,
“The pat.”
It wasn’t just a gesture, it was a promise of safety…
an unspoken message that carried within it: “You are understood, even in your silence.”
The patient arrived at the other hospital, attended his appointment safely,
But more importantly… he arrived confidently, safely, and with a heart open to life again.
On that day, an achievement wasn’t recorded in a file,
but an unforgettable story was written…
a story about a nurse who didn’t just rely on his skill, but also offered his heart, patience, and humanity.
He made a real difference… a medicine that doesn’t dispense, but is felt.
lay a patient who didn’t speak up, didn’t object, didn’t ask. He just kept silent.
A child in a man’s body, haunted by autism spectrum disorder, living behind walls of isolation and silence, which no one entered.
The closer someone approached him, the more confused he became…
Whenever they tried to transfer him to his appointment at another hospital, he became afraid, cowered, and refused.
He wasn’t stubborn, but he was drowning in unbearable anxiety…
Anxiety of the unknown, of leaving, of the many hands, of the cars, of the change.
The attempts were repeated.
Each time they ended in tears, screaming, postponement…
As if the medical team was trying to cross an invisible bridge, but no one had the keys.
Until one day, nurse Ahmed Saleh El-Sayed was on duty.
He looked at the patient… Not as a medical file, nor as a difficult case, but as a frightened soul quietly pleading for help.
The patient was silent, but Ahmed heard his silence…
He understood him without him saying a word.
He approached him with rare calm, without rushing…
He sat beside him, carrying neither an order nor a plan, just his presence.
Then, with extreme kindness, he extended his hand and placed it on the patient’s shoulder, a light pat…
a pat unlike that of a nurse… more like a mother when she fears for her child.
That pat was more than a touch…
It was a language.
A new language was born between them, not spoken with words, but understood with the heart.
And as it was repeated, the patient began to respond.
Slowly, with hesitant confidence, he stood up… and extended his hand to Ahmed.
Something about that moment was like a miracle…
The medical team saw what they had never seen before:
The patient walking beside Ahmed, calm, reassured, without resistance…
as if there was a secret pact between shoulder and hand… between two hearts.
And during the transfer, these were not ordinary steps, but a profound therapeutic journey.
Ahmed wasn’t accompanying a body… he was embracing a soul.
Whenever the patient became confused, he patted him on the shoulder…
And every pat said: “I am here… I will not leave you.”
With a simple, yet compassionate innovation, Ahmed invented a nonverbal means of communication,
“The pat.”
It wasn’t just a gesture, it was a promise of safety…
an unspoken message that carried within it: “You are understood, even in your silence.”
The patient arrived at the other hospital, attended his appointment safely,
But more importantly… he arrived confidently, safely, and with a heart open to life again.
On that day, an achievement wasn’t recorded in a file,
but an unforgettable story was written…
a story about a nurse who didn’t just rely on his skill, but also offered his heart, patience, and humanity.
He made a real difference… a medicine that doesn’t dispense, but is felt.