On top of her usual duties as head physician at the Razi health centre in Khomeini-Shahr, an area of Esfahan, she now provides phone consultations to Iranian and Afghan patients suffering from or at risk of contracting the virus. For months now, she has stayed well past opening hours with her team of five medical personnel to make phone calls to some 200 families every evening.
“The coronavirus made me feel powerless, like other doctors around the world,” she says. “These phone calls became an invaluable way for me to reach out to people stuck at home who may need medical advice and services.”
During these calls, Fezzeh and her team talk to patients who have COVID-like symptoms, before checking up on those who have tested positive for the virus but are not sick enough to be hospitalised. Before heading home, the team speak to other families about health and hygiene precautions to limit transmission.
“In Iran, people are tired of the coronavirus and, unfortunately, not enough people maintain health precautions and social distancing. But all those we call, especially in the Afghan community, would listen to our advice because it was coming from Dr Hosseini,” says Ameneh, 30, an Iranian midwife working in Fezzeh’s team.
Fezzeh arrived in Iran as a one-month-old baby after her parents fled conflict in northern Afghanistan’s Sar-e Pol province. Leaving everything behind was not an easy decision for them, but they hoped that in Iran, their children would be able to grow up in safety and have a brighter future. “My mother would say that education is more important than food and clothes,” Fezzeh recalls.
Refugee children in Iran can attend public schools and follow the same national curriculum as Iranians. Encouraged by her mother, Fezzeh successfully completed her education and, at 19, passed the competitive entrance exams to be admitted to medical school. But at university, she had to overcome the prejudices and socio-economic barriers that deter many refugees from going on to higher education.
“The expectations I had for myself were so low – I only wanted to become a midwife. But my teacher convinced me that I could do anything I set my mind to,” she says.
Without a medical license, Fezzah volunteered for years at a hospital and organized discussions with the Afghan community to talk about hygiene, nutrition and diet. “I was happy to be able to make a difference in the lives of Afghans in Iran, but I knew I could do so much more,” she says.
Finally, in 2016, her exemplary work was recognized by the Government of Iran and she was exceptionally given a permit to practice medicine. She became the first and only refugee doctor in Esfahan province, home to about five million inhabitants, including some 100,000 refugees.
“Sometimes, my Afghan patients are surprised when they find out that I am also from Afghanistan. It is as if they have forgotten that they too can succeed,” she says.