I visited Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza, the largest medical facility in the area. The emergency room was chaos, and filled with cries of wounded people and the worried whispers of families. Stretchers lined the hallways, and many patients were children, their small bodies bearing the scars of the conflict.
Dr. Youssef, a surgeon who had been working for 48 hours straight, guided me through the overcrowded wards. "We have more patients than beds," he said in a voice full of exhaustion. In one corner, a young boy named Ali, who's around seven years old, lay unconscious with shrapnel wounds covering his legs. His mother sat beside him, holding his hand and whispering prayers.
Dr. Youssef paused by Ali's bed. "We do our best, but it's never enough," he said, his eyes heavy with sadness. He explained that Ali needed a complex surgery, but due to the shortage of medical supplies and the constant influx of new patients, they could only provide basic care for now. Dr. Youssef said "We need more of everything like medicines, equipment, and doctors," he added.
In another room, I met a 10-year-old girl named Fatima, who had lost her leg in an explosion. Despite the trauma, she managed a brave smile when I spoke to her. Her father, standing nearby, told me about their home being destroyed. "We have nowhere to go," he said, his voice breaking. "But at least she's alive."
The doctors and nurses at Al-Shifa worked tirelessly, their faces etched with fatigue. Dr. Youssef had been at the hospital for over two days without rest. "We can't leave these people," he said. "They need us, and we need the world to see their suffering."
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