Rescued from the rubble – We Are Not Numbers
We evacuated our home and moved south where they said it was safe. It wasn’t safe. They bombed where we were sheltering, and the building collapsed on our heads.
Miraculously my family escaped with minor injuries, but I was pulled from the rubble with multiple pelvic fractures. I was rushed to the European Gaza Hospital in Khan Younis in the south of the strip where I was left for three full days on an iron ambulance stretcher, unable to move.
On the first day a doctor told me not to eat or drink anything because I needed surgery. But when, how and where the surgery would take place no-one knew. Everyday more and more injured were arriving and their cases were more urgent than mine. I was without food, water and painkillers for 3 days on that iron stretcher, with the rocks and sand from the bombing still clinging to my wounds.
We were six casualties crammed into one small room. That soon became eight. My family stayed with me, as did the families of the other injured. Day and night the room was crowded and noisy with visitors, doctors, nurses and those arriving with donations. We all shared one small bathroom that did not have a shower or even regular water.
I spent 40 days in that hospital. On my worst days it was beyond terrible! The rest of the place was full of displaced people who slept on stairs and in the corridors, or in tents outside. It was more like a mass shelter than a hospital. There could be no rest or sleep due to the endless din of noise.
This is not just a story about a place of healing becoming a place of death – and it is not only my story. My people all over Gaza have long suffered this almost indescribable situation. The Israeli occupation is committing horrendous crimes against humanity in complete defiance of all international law. The world must see that their actions against the innocent are lawless – and rescue us all from the rubble.