Deir al-Balah (Gaza Strip), Aug 6 (PTI)
At Shifa Hospital in the Gaza Strip, the lack of sterilization facilities means Dr. Jamal Salha and his fellow surgeons are left using soap to clean their instruments. Infections are rampant, the odor of medical waste is overpowering, and the entire area is infested with flies.
Patients lie on metal beds in the corridors, groaning in pain due to the absence of painkillers. The oppressive heat is exacerbated by a complete lack of electricity and ventilation, compelling worried visitors to fan their bedridden relatives with pieces of cardboard.
Shifa, once hailed as Gaza's largest hospital and a key element of its healthcare system, stands as a mere shadow of its former self after enduring 22 months of war. Once sprawling across an area equivalent to seven soccer fields, the hospital has suffered significant damage from repeated bombings, two Israeli raids, and ongoing blockades that have restricted necessary food, medicine, and equipment. The exhausted staff works tirelessly around the clock, trying to save lives despite the myriad challenges.
"It's inconceivably bad," shares Salha, a 27-year-old neurosurgeon who, alongside many doctors in Gaza, trained at Shifa and dreams of ending his career there.
However, pondering the future becomes difficult when the present demands full attention. Salha and his colleagues are overwhelmed by a constant influx of wartime injuries. The situation has worsened in recent weeks, as many patients now suffer from cases complicated by widespread malnutrition.
Shifa began its journey as part of a British military post in 1946, evolving over the years to become home to Gaza's largest specialized surgery department, boasting over 21 operating rooms. Today, only three remain functional.
Due to the constant occupation of these operating rooms, surgeries are often performed in the emergency room, leading to some patients being turned away. The courtyard is overshadowed by bomb-ravaged buildings and littered with demolished rubble, serving more as a refuge for the injured than a place of healing.
Salha initially fled northern Gaza at the onset of the war but returned to Shifa at the beginning of the year. He had kept a close watch on Shifa's deteriorating condition while working at another overloaded hospital in central Gaza.
"I had seen pictures," he recalls. "But upon returning, I was hesitant to enter."
The trajectory of his life and career was sharply altered on October 7, 2023, when Hamas launched an attack on Israel, prompting a retaliatory campaign.
For the initial weeks, during the war, Salha served as an intern at Shifa. The Israeli blockade, which cut off Gaza's internet service, required him to physically transport medical scans throughout the hospital complex, often navigating through thousands of displaced individuals seeking shelter there, and maneuvering stairwells due to non-operational elevators.
After Israeli troops moved into northern Gaza, Salha and his family left, but his friend Bilal remained in Gaza City and was tragically killed a few months later.
Not long after Salha's departure, Israeli forces conducted their first raid on Shifa in November 2023. The claim posited by Israel was that the hospital functioned as a pivotal Hamas command and control center, a charge supported only by the discovery of a single tunnel with two small rooms beneath the facility.
Israel has made similar claims when targeting other medical facilities across Gaza, even as civilian casualties have soared. According to international law, hospitals lose their protection if used for military purposes. Hamas has denied operating military functions within hospitals, though their security personnel have been seen inside, often restricting public access.
Israeli forces returned to Shifa in March 2024, sparking two weeks of conflict where the military reported that around 200 militants who had regrouped at the site were killed.
The World Health Organization reported that extensive damage left three hospital buildings derelict, and that the oxygen plant and most critical equipment, including 14 baby incubators, were destroyed.
During this time, Salha continued working in central Gaza, completing over 200 surgeries and procedures, including numerous operations on fractured skulls — a rare spectacle for many surgeons throughout their careers.
Upon resuming work at Shifa as a neurosurgeon resident, Salha found the rehabilitated buildings hauntingly unrecognizable, lamenting that the destruction eradicated cherished memories.
Originally equipped with 700 beds, Shifa now operates around 200, with nearly as many patients left resting on mattresses on the floor, as per the hospital manager. Some beds have been positioned in storage rooms or within makeshift tents. An additional 100 beds and three operating rooms are borrowed via rental from a nearby facility.
The hospital, which was once staffed by 1,600 doctors and nurses, now relies on a mere half of that workforce, reveals administrative manager Rami Mohana. With an extreme food insecurity crisis gripping Gaza, the hospital can no longer provide sustenance for its workers, many of whom have left to support their families. Many of those who stay continue to work without regular pay.
On a recent morning, within a storage room converted into a patient ward, Salha checked on 14-year-old Mosab al-Dibs, suffering from a critical head injury compounded by malnutrition.
"Look at how dire the conditions have become," Salha observed, by pulling at al-Dibs' delicate arm.
Al-Dibs’ mother, Shahinez, watched despondently. "Shifa was a place known for healing since our childhood," she reflected. "Now, those who come here are lost. It's a hospital in name only." The shortages extend to basic necessities like gauze, resulting in infrequent changes of patients' bandages. Gel foams crucial for stopping bleeding are strictly rationed.
Shifa's three CT scanners were destroyed in Israeli raids, prompting patients in need of scans to seek help elsewhere. Mohana states that Israel has yet to approve replacements for the CT machines.
Patients often endure lengthy waits — sometimes spanning days — while surgeons triage cases, or as faculties arrange for scans. Some patients have died awaiting treatment, notes Salha.
Following months without a pneumatic surgical drill to cut through bone, Shifa finally acquired one, only to find it void of blades and lacking spare parts, says Salha.
"What should take 10 minutes now extends to over an hour to penetrate skull bones," he explains. "Leaving us physically drained and putting the patient's life at risk."
Questioned by The Associated Press regarding Shifa's equipment shortages, COGAT, the Israeli military agency responsible for aid coordination, did not address these concerns specifically but emphasized that the military "consistently and continuously enables the continued functioning of medical services through aid organizations and the international community."
From Salha's tenure at the central Gaza hospital, some memories are hard to shake. One such memory involves a young woman in her 20s who arrived with a treatable brain hemorrhage. The lack of available ICU beds led the hospital to deny her admission.
Salha wanted to accompany her in an ambulance to another hospital, but due to the risk of attack, no technician was willing to join him in operating the ventilator.
"Having to tell her family that we had to leave her to die was devastating," he shares.
There are moments of triumph as well.
When a girl arrived at Shifa with bleeding from her head, Salha's colleague managed to staunch it with his hand until gel foam could be sourced. The girl, who experienced temporary vision loss, later greeted Salha as she happily recovered.
"Her vision was sharper than mine," Salha chuckles, adjusting his spectacles, a brief moment of respite and joy amidst the chaos.
"At times, it feels like we're living in a trance. We tend to patients like in a dream and later awaken to ask ourselves: what just transpired?"
(Only the headline of this report may have been reworked by Editorji; the rest of the content is auto-generated from a syndicated feed.)
