The love shown by 7/7 rescuers helped shape my second life - I will not allow the cancer of hatred to consume me

6 July 2025, 11:58 | Updated: 6 July 2025, 12:56

There’s something uniquely emotional about commemorations.

The approaching months and days each bring a sharpness of memories, so vivid, that the senses begin to add to the surreal transporting back to a moment that changed life as you knew it.

I know the date is coming closer as I begin to get the hint of that smell of the dense smoke that permeated through my entire body reminding me of the struggle to breathe, then comes the taste in my mouth, metallic and bitter. As I close my eyes, the scene begins to play, panning around, looking down at where my legs used to be and then quickly flickering to a light in the tunnel.

Its as if I’m back there, even for a second, I’m back and my mind is racing, trying to go over any missed details, trying desperately to make sense of the senseless.

Twenty years distils into minutes and its then you understand that time doesn’t heal, it merely offers distance from an event. That distance has been what I call my second life, a life completely unexpected and a life where I live very differently.

On July 7, 2005 my life, as I knew it, was taken. I didn’t know it then but it would be the joy of being physically (and mentally) free that I would miss the most, the ability to act on a whim, to run, to dance, to walk at the ocean’s edge, to climb mountains – or simply just take a step and feel the ground beneath my feet. My legs won’t grow back, time doesn’t offer me a chance to recover or be who I once was but time does offer the choice to rebuild and create a new life based on what you do have rather than what you don’t. I looked to my role models, those who selflessly ran toward danger, putting their own lives at considerable risk to save as many people as they could. I remember surrendering my body to them, after laying in the aftermath for an hour, seeing the torch light gradually get closer was the beginning of what would be a lasting bond with those who rescued me.

Their actions shaped the form that my second life would take, one that was compelled to make a positive difference and to honour every day that I have, to not allow the cancer of bitterness or hatred consume me but rather be the symbol of what happened in the minutes, hours, days, months and years after the bombings.

‘One unknown, estimated female’ was the label given to me in hospital, an extraordinary insight into the state of my body and just how near death I was. When I first read those words I was overwhelmed by how loved I had felt, how full of intention and unconditional love and care was shown to me, an unknown.

So this has been my vow, be it 20 years or 50, to be the reminder of the strength and power of Humanity, how holding a hand, both literally and metaphorically can change lives and the bonds that unite us are far greater than those that seek to divide.

Still Alive (& Kicking) is a performance written by me as a Love Letter to all who gave everything and more on that day, 7/7, and every day since. Coming back to music and the arts is the best way I can express my deepest gratitude for the 20 years I’ve had and all there is to come.

________________

Dr Gill Hicks is a 7/7 survivor, creative director and motivational speaker

LBC Opinion provides a platform for diverse opinions on current affairs and matters of public interest.

The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official LBC position.

To contact us email opinion@lbc.co.uk