I start my shift at Al Shifa Hospital’s emergency ward at 7:30 a.m. and stay at the hospital for a full 24 hours. Meanwhile, patients continue to suffer from everything from heart attacks to hypothermia to chronic illnesses that have suddenly worsened due to untreated trauma from the Israeli attack.
A typical shift has four to six nurses and up to three doctors. That’s about a third of the pre-war emergency room staff. Like many other medical staff, I am not paid for this work. The hospital cannot afford to compensate us. Some colleagues receive symbolic rewards from support organizations. No one has a fixed salary.
Out of 29 departments in Al Shifa, only three are partially operational. Most of the buildings, once a vast medical complex, were destroyed or burned down. We work in three of them, which have been partially restored.
At the end of his shift, he returns to his bombed-out home, which now has tarpaulins in place of walls. We have no heat, electricity, or running water and are struggling to get enough food because our income is not coming back.
This is the reality facing medical workers across Gaza. More than two months after the ceasefire took effect, Gaza’s hospitals continue to have a war-like atmosphere. The health sector is on the brink of collapse. It is barely functioning thanks to the volunteer efforts of countless medical professionals and their sense of moral obligation.
Across Gaza, doctors are working under enormous pressure, nurses are working beyond their capacity, patients are waiting in long lines for unavailable medicines, and surgeries are being postponed due to lack of equipment.
Hospital occupancy is at record levels, with some departments exceeding capacity multiple times.
Medical teams are working in environments lacking almost everything: essential medicines, ventilators, functioning operating rooms, and even beds. This is compounded by a severe shortage of spare parts for broken medical equipment, with even the slightest malfunction potentially disrupting treatment for dozens of patients.
There are 350,000 people with chronic diseases, the majority of whom cannot receive standard treatment. In Gaza, 42,000 people with life-altering injuries require multiple surgeries and long-term rehabilitation, but these surgeries are not available. More than 16,000 patients require urgent medical evacuation. Nearly 1,100 people died while waiting for permission to leave the hospital for treatment.
Meanwhile, Israel continues to bomb civilians, disrupting supplies of essential and life-saving medicines such as cancer drugs, dialysis supplies, heart medicine, antibiotics, insulin, and emergency IV fluids.
Since the cease-fire took effect on October 10, Israeli attacks have killed at least 411 people and injured 1,112 others. The number of people who died as a result of Israel’s decision to block medicines can only be estimated.
High patient numbers, destroyed health infrastructure, shortages of medicines – all these pressures are weighing on the shoulders of healthcare workers who are already going through hell.
According to Palestinian Medical Aid, at least 1,722 of their colleagues were killed during the massacre. Others took the opportunity to flee Gaza. At least 80 of his colleagues remain in Israeli prisons, including Dr. Hassam Abu Safia, director of Kamal Adwan Hospital.
Those of us still working in the field are exhausted. Horrifying images of genocide continue to haunt us. Babies and children who have lost multiple limbs. Elderly people with severe internal injuries that cannot be operated on. Young people with spinal or head injuries who now live completely dependent on caregivers and unavailable equipment and medications.
“I carry my grief in my pocket, between instruments and bandages. Sometimes I have to hide my tears because I treat a child who looks like my son,” one of my colleagues at Al Shifa Hospital, who lost a child, recently told me.
Another colleague said: “We don’t work in a hospital. We are on a battlefield, fighting against time and death.”
We healthcare workers in Gaza are more than just caregivers and staff. We are witnesses to a tragedy, heroes without armor, soldiers in a different kind of war. Some of us have lost loved ones, some of us have lost our homes, and yet we put aside our personal pain and return to work. Not because we’re fearless, but because we can’t let our patients down. Despite fatigue, fear, and sadness, there is an unwavering will and a heart that beats with a sense of mission and humanity.
We will continue to do so, but we cannot do it alone. Urgent assistance is needed to restore Gaza’s medical sector, re-equip operating theaters and replenish medical supplies.
Gaza does not need any further statements. We need medicines, equipment, personnel, and guarantees of basic rights to treatment.
Let this article be a cry for help, a call to urgent action. If we are to save lives again, we must save healthcare in Gaza. Palestinian lives matter.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of Al Jazeera.
