Another reason POS Nation endured such a massive defeat today
This article is devestating.
Every zionist should read it and understand what they've become.
GAZA — In the United States we would never dream of operating on anyone without consent, let alone a malnourished and barely conscious 9-year-old girl in septic shock. Nevertheless, when we saw Juri, that’s exactly what we did.
We have no idea how Juri ended up in the Gaza European Hospital preoperative area. All we could see was that she had an
external fixator — a scaffold of metal pins and rods — on her left leg and necrotic skin on her face and arms from the explosion that tore her little body to shreds. Just touching her blankets elicited shrieks of pain and terror. She was slowly dying, so we decided to take the risk of anesthetizing her without knowing exactly what we would find.
In the operating room, we examined Juri from head to toe. This beautiful, meek little girl was missing two inches of her left femur along with most of the muscle and skin on the back of her thigh. Both of her buttocks were flayed open, cutting so deeply through flesh that the lowest bones in her pelvis were exposed. As we swept our hands through this topography of cruelty, maggots fell in clumps onto the operating room table.
“Jesus Christ,” Feroze muttered as we washed the larvae into a bucket, “she’s just a fucking kid.”
Right: Dr. Mark Pearlmutter playing with some of the girls in the displaced persons camp around Gaza European Hospital. Left: Feroze Sidhwa, left, operates on a man who was shot. | Feroze Sidhwa, left; Mark Pearlmutter, right
The two of us are humanitarian surgeons. Together, in our combined 57 years of volunteering, we’ve worked on more than 40 surgical missions in developing countries on four continents. We’re used to working in disaster and war zones, of being on intimate terms with death and carnage and despair.
None of that prepared us for what we saw in Gaza this spring.
The constant begging for money, the malnourished population, the open sewage — all of that was familiar to us as veteran war zone doctors. But add in the incredible population density, the overwhelming numbers of badly maimed children and amputees, the constant hum of drones, the smell of explosives and gunpowder — not to mention the constant earth-shaking explosions — and it’s no wonder UNICEF has declared the Gaza Strip as
“the world’s most dangerous place to be a child.”
We have always gone where we were most needed. In March, it was obvious that the place was the Gaza Strip.
The team of healthcare workers, including Feroze (left) and Perlmutter (second from left), that volunteered to work with the World Health Organization through the Palestinian American Medical Association. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
The two of us had never met before this trip. But we both felt called to serve, so we packed our bags, leaving our lives behind in California and North Carolina.
We landed in Cairo around midnight and met up with the rest of our group of 12: an emergency nurse, a physical therapist, an anesthesiologist, another trauma surgeon, a general surgeon, a neurosurgeon, two cardiac surgeons and two pulmonary and critical care intensivists. All of us had volunteered to work with the World Health Organization through the Palestinian American Medical Association.
We were the only two surgeons in the group with experience in disaster zones. We were also the only two on the trip who didn’t speak Arabic, were not of Arab origin and were not Muslim. Mark is an orthopedic surgeon who grew up in a Jewish family in Penns Grove, New Jersey. Feroze is a trauma surgeon
who grew up in a Parsi household in Flint, Michigan and worked with a Palestinian-Jewish cooperative in Haifa after graduation from college. Neither one of us is religious. Neither one of us has any political interest in the outcome of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict — other than wanting it to end.
At 3:30 a.m., we loaded into vans with the hundreds of bags of supplies our group had brought and joined a humanitarian convoy comprised of people from UNICEF, World Food Programme, Save the Children, Doctors Without Borders, Oxfam and International Medical Corps, among others, heading to Rafah, the (now closed) crossing point between Egypt and Gaza.
The sight of thousands and thousands of semi-trucks parked alongside the highway for nearly 30 miles was truly something to behold — convoys of lifesaving aid turned into static walls of a tunnel directing us toward Gaza. Travel through the Sinai is slowed by the half dozen Egyptian military checkpoints in the peninsula; after 12 hours we finally arrived in the middle of the afternoon.
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The Egyptian side of the Rafah Crossing on March 25, 2024, where most goods are transported to Gaza. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
The Rafah Crossing functions like a rural American airport: one baggage scanner, odd procedures and minimal facilities. Scanning the medical and humanitarian supplies from the dozens of aid teams one bag at a time was inefficiency defined. But it was the only reliable way to bring anything into Gaza.
As Democratic Sen. Jeff Merkley of Oregon
noted on the Senate floor, the process for clearing aid with the Israeli authorities is opaque and inconsistent. “Items that are allowed in one day can be rejected the next….” For this reason, everyone simply brought whatever they could as personal luggage — even surgical equipment — paying exorbitant airline baggage fees instead of bulk shipping rates. Now that Rafah is closed, even this route for resupplying Gaza’s hospitals has been cut off. (Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who has shown no signs of backing off, is scheduled to address the U.S. Congress on Monday. He will also meet with Vice President Kamala Harris.)
Finally, after 10 p.m., we were off to face Salah al-Din Road, Gaza’s
famous “road of death.”
Salah al-Din Road is the main north-south highway of the Gaza Strip. To cross it requires relying on a remarkably
ineffective process called “deconfliction.”The fact that “deconfliction” is so unreliable explains why “Gaza is the most dangerous place in the world to be an aid worker,”
according to the International Rescue Committee. It works something like this: COGAT — the office of Israel’s Defense Ministry that coordinates between the
Israeli armed forces and humanitarian organizations — agrees it will not attack traffic on a specific route for a specified period.
This coordination is done through — what else? — a smartphone app. When the road turns green on the app you have 15 minutes to get on and off the specified route, and you can only request deconfliction of a particular route every three hours. After a 40-minute wait, we got the go-ahead and our drivers floored it, dodging foot and donkey traffic all along the road.
The sleeping quarters for the volunteer healthcare team. Half the team slept in one room in the adjacent Palestine College of Nursing, while the other half slept in one of the hospital’s outlying patient-care areas. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
Just before midnight, we finally arrived at our destination — Gaza European Hospital — where we were greeted by a sea of children,
all shorter and thinnerthan they ought to have been. Even over their screams of joy at meeting new foreigners, we could hear Israeli drones humming overhead. We headed to our living quarters — half of our team slept in one room in the adjacent Palestine College of Nursing, while the other half slept in one of the hospital’s outlying patient-care areas — and spent our first night sleeping under continuous, room-shaking bombardment.
For our entire time there, we lived in constant fear that Israel would invade the hospital. Thankfully we never saw a single combatant, Israeli or Palestinian.
By the time we arrived, 59 percent of all the hospital beds in Gaza
had been destroyed, while the remaining partially functioning hospitals operated at 359 percent of their actual bed capacity. The World Health Organization
describes them as “partially operational.”
European Hospital is located at the southeastern edge of Khan Younis; it
’s normally one of three hospitals providing elective general, orthopedic, neurosurgical and cardiac surgical services to a
city of 419,000 people in southern Gaza. Now it functions as the only trauma center for well over 1.5 million people, an impossible task even under the best of circumstances. It is likely the safest and best-resourced city block in the entire Gaza Strip — and yet its horrors defy description.
Clockwise from top left: Raw sewage runs out of the displaced persons camp on the grounds of Gaza European Hospital; A child sits on the floor near the exit to the main ICU; People line the floor of the hall at the entrance to the main ICU. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
We first noticed the overcrowding: 1,500 people were admitted to a 220-bed hospital. Rooms meant to hold four patients typically had 10 to 12, and patients were housed in every possible space: the radiology department, the common areas, everywhere. Next, we noticed the 15,000 people sheltering on the hospital grounds and inside the hospital — lining and even blocking the hallways, throughout the wards, in the bathrooms and closets, on the stairs, even in the sterile processing and food preparation facilities and the operating rooms themselves. The hospital itself was a displaced persons camp.
Then there were the odors: The intensive care units smelled like rot and death; the corridors stank like a kitchen filled with filth; the hospital grounds smelled of sewage and spent explosives. Only the operating rooms were relatively clean.
It’s what we imagine the first weeks of a zombie apocalypse would look — and smell — like.
While touring the hospital we walked through one of the ICUs and found multiple preteens admitted with gunshot wounds to the head. One might argue that a child could have been injured unintentionally in an explosion, or perhaps even forgotten when Israel invaded a children’s hospital and reportedly
left infants to die in
a pediatric intensive care unit.
Gunshot wounds to the head are an entirely different matter.
A picture of a 10-year-old boy who had been shot in the head one month prior and underwent a craniectomy. Dr. Sidhwa removed his sutures from his scalp. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
We started seeing a series of children, preteens mostly, who’d been shot in the head. They’d go on to slowly die, only to be replaced by new victims who’d also been shot in the head, and who would also go on to slowly die. Their families told us one of two stories: the children were playing inside when they were shot by Israeli forces, or they were playing in the street when they were shot by Israeli forces.
(The Israel Defense Forces did not respond to specific questions for this story, but in an emailed statement, it said, “The IDF is committed to mitigating civilian harm during operational activity. In that spirit, the IDF makes great efforts to estimate and consider potential civilian collateral damage in its strikes.”)
As we met Palestinian physicians and nurses working at the hospital, it was clear that they, like their patients, were physically and mentally unwell. Giving anyone a pat on the back dropped your hand between two unpadded shoulder blades and onto an exposed spine. In any given room one found staff members with jaundiced eyes, a sure sign of
acute hepatitis A infection in such overcrowded conditions.
Many staff had no sense of urgency and often no empathy, even for children. We were initially taken aback by this, But we quickly learned that our Palestinian health care colleagues were among the most traumatized people in the Strip. Like all Palestinians in Gaza, they had lost family members and their homes. Indeed, almost all of them now lived in and around the hospital with their surviving family. Although they all continued working a full schedule, they had not been paid since October 7; health sector salaries are paid by the Ramallah-based Palestinian Authority and are always cut off during Israeli attacks.
Graffiti in the pediatric wing of Gaza European Hospital. Pearlmutter and Sidhwa quickly learned that their Palestinian health care colleagues were among the most traumatized people in the Strip. | Courtesy of Feroze Sidhwa
Many of the staff were working at the Shifa and Indonesian Hospitals when they were destroyed. They were the lucky ones — they survived the attacks. Since October 7, at least
500 healthcare workers and
278 aid workers have been killed in Gaza. Among them was Dr. Hammam Alloh, a 36-year-old nephrologist at Shifa Hospital who refused to evacuate when Israel besieged the hospital in October.
On October 31, in an interview with Amy Goodman for
Democracy Now!, the doctor talked about
why he chose to stay: “If I go, who treats my patients? We are not animals. We have the right to receive proper health care. So we can’t just leave.” Eleven days later, Dr. Alloh was killed
by an Israeli air strike on his home, along with three of his family members.
Among the medical staff who survived the assaults on the Shifa and Indonesian Hospitals, many were taken from those hospitals by the Israeli military. They all told us a slightly different version of the same horror story: In captivity, they were barely fed, continuously abused and ultimately dumped naked on the side of a road. Many said they were subjected to mock executions and
other forms of mistreatment and torture.
After his home was destroyed and his family threatened, European Hospital’s director fled to Egypt, leaving an already overburdened hospital without its longtime leader. This sense of helplessness and disorientation was made worse still by the constant spread of hearsay about kidnappings, troop movements, food shipments, water availability and everything else of importance to survival and safety in a land under siege.
Cut off from the outside world and unable to access reliable information about the forces controlling whether they live or die, eat or starve, stay or run, rumors spread and amplified.
Several staff members told us they were simply waiting to die, and that they hoped Israel would get it over with sooner rather than later.
On April 2 we met Tamer. His Facebook posts show a proud young man and father who became a nurse to provide for his two small children — no small feat in a land with
one of the highest unemployment rates in the world. When Israel
raided Indonesian Hospital last November, he was assisting the orthopedics team in the operating room. He refused to leave his anesthetized patient. He said Israeli soldiers shot him in the leg, breaking his femur. His own orthopedic team cared for him, placing an external fixator to stabilize his shattered leg.
Images of Tamer from his Facebook feed that show him after he was shot and operated on (left), after he was released from Israeli custody (center) and after he was treated at Gaza European Hospital (right).
Next, Tamer told us, the Israelis came to his hospital room and took him, where exactly he doesn’t know. He told us he was strapped to a table for 45 days, given a juice box every day — sometimes every other day — and denied medical care for his broken femur. During that time, he told us, he was beaten so badly that his right eye was destroyed. As malnutrition set in, he developed osteomyelitis — infection of the bone itself — in his broken femur. Later, he said, he was unceremoniously dumped naked on the side of a road. With metal sticking out of his infected and broken leg and his right eye hanging out of his skull he crawled for two miles until someone found him and brought him to European Hospital.
(The IDF did not address specific questions about Tamer’s case, but instead emailed a press release responding to another outlet’s report of
detainee abuse and torture at Sde Teiman. In it,
the IDF denied mistreating detainees.)
When we met Tamer at the hospital for treatment, all that was left of him was the disfigured outline of a human being, his body crippled by violence, his eye surgically removed and his mind haunted by torture. A man who once healed others was reduced to constantly begging for pain medications, reliant on others for everything — and wondering if his wife and children were even alive.