Roots to routes: healing through faith, culture and heritage | Talking #TeamCWPT blog

We're proud of the diverse workforce that makes up #TeamCWPT and the rich perspective they offer the people we serve. For South Asian Heritage Month, Dr Syeda Zakia Shaherbano reflects on her resilience, the strength in diversity and how she's gotten to where she is now.

I was a young mother of 2, a toddler and a baby, trying to make a new life in the UK. We had moved just a year earlier from Pakistan, and like many others starting over again in a new country, my days were full of ambition and hope. We were about to move into our first home, and I was preparing for my Professional and Linguistic Assessments Board (PLAB) 2 exam, eager to begin my career as a doctor in the UK Our house was packed. The exam was just days away. And then, everything changed.

First came the sudden loss of my mother-in-law, a shock that shook our entire family. In South Asian culture, family bonds are sacred, elders are the roots of our lives, and her passing left a spiritual and emotional void. Amidst our grief, I sat the PLAB 2 exam, not realising that life was about to test me even more profoundly.

On the very day we were meant to collect the keys to our new home, I was diagnosed with leukaemia.

Instead of walking into our new home that day, I was wheeled into the old Walsgrave hospital to begin chemotherapy. On day 4 of treatment, my PLAB results arrived: I had passed. All our plans came to a sudden and painful halt. My future as a doctor in the UK was uncertain. More pressing still, the future of my young family was uncertain. With no family around, we were truly on our own. And yet, even in the darkest moments, light came from the most unexpected places. My husband was a trainee doctor at Coventry and Warwickshire Partnership Trust (CWPT) at the time. For the next few weeks, until my sister arrived from Pakistan to care for my young children, our CWPT colleagues truly became our family, stepping in with the kind of love, care, and generosity that echoed the support we might have expected back home. The junior doctors group was beautifully diverse. Indians, Pakistanis, Arabs, British - all united not just by duty, but by shared humanity. His trainers and peers, people of all backgrounds, stood by us. They supported him so he could be by my side during emergencies. They helped us with our house move, supported us with childcare, and most importantly, were emotionally present. 

One moment still gives me goosebumps. A Sikh doctor, someone I barely knew from a PLAB course, visited me regularly in the hospital and read to me verses from the Guru Granth Sahib. To my astonishment, the words echoed teachings from the Quran. In those moments, I felt not only connected to my own faith, but to something far greater - a reminder that diversity is not only beautiful, it is healing. 

As I recovered, my family, especially my husband, encouraged me not just to survive, but to live. His strength reminded me of the quiet resilience found in so many Pakistani households, where love is shown in sacrifices, and courage is often silent, but unwavering. With his support, I gradually returned to work. I joined CWPT on a placement to gain experience, where I was mentored by one of the best trainers I could have hoped for. 

CWPT became more than a workplace - it was a collaborative community that embraced me, just as it had embraced my husband. I was never seen as someone 'returning after illness', but as a doctor rebuilding her career and her life, with strength and purpose.

In my early 40s, I completed higher training and returned to CWPT, then, proudly, as a consultant psychiatrist. I have now worked as a consultant in the Trust for the past 8 years. In that time, I have strived to practice with the same values that once carried me through my own crisis: compassion, collaboration, integrity and respect. 

Looking back, this journey has been shaped not only by circumstances, but by the values instilled in me since childhood: deep faith, family loyalty, perseverance in hardship, humility in success, and the strength to keep moving forward, no matter how uncertain the path.

If there's one lesson I hold dearest, it's this: in the face of adversity, it is not just strength that carries us, but the quiet power of faith, the depth of our roots, and the kindness we extend to one another.

As the Qur'an reminds us: "Indeed, with hardship comes ease". (Surah Ash-Sharh, 94:6)

And in my life, that ease came not just through faith, but through the compassion of others, and the unwavering strength of love.