When I started studying nursing at Al Azhar University, I knew I wanted to work at al-Shifa Hospital. It was my dream.
It was the largest and most prestigious hospital in Gaza. Some of Palestine’s best doctors and nurses worked there. Various foreign medical missions will come and provide training and treatment there.
Many people from the north to the south of Gaza sought medical assistance in al-Shifa. The hospital’s name means ‘healing’ in Arabic, and it was actually a place of healing for Palestinians in the Gaza Strip.
I graduated from nursing school in 2020 and attempted to find a job in the private sector. After several short-term jobs, I joined Al Shifa as a volunteer nurse.
I really loved working in the emergency room. I came to work every day with enthusiasm and positive energy. I would meet patients with a bright smile and hope to ease their suffering just a little. I have always loved hearing my patients pray for me with grateful hearts.
There were a total of 80 nurses in the emergency room, both women and men, and we were all friends. In fact, some of my best friends were hospital colleagues. Alaa was one of them. We worked shifts together and went out for coffee outside of work. She was a beautiful girl who was very kind and loved by everyone.
When the war began, it was the friendship and camaraderie among my employees that helped me get through it.
From day one, hospitals were overflowing with casualties. After the first shift that day, I stayed in the nurses station for an hour and cried, seeing everything we had been through and all the injured people I had seen suffering.
In just a few days, there were more than a thousand wounded and martyrs in hospitals. The more people came together, the harder we worked to save lives.
I never expected this fear to last more than a month. But it was.
Soon after, the Israeli military called my family and told us that we had to leave our home in Gaza City. I was faced with a difficult choice. Will I be with my family during this terrible time, or will I be with the patients who need me most? I decided to stay.
I said goodbye to my family who had fled to Rafah in the south, and stayed at Al Sifah Hospital, which had become my second home. Alaa also stayed behind. We supported and comforted each other.
In early November, the Israeli army ordered us to evacuate the hospital and laid siege to it. Our medical supplies are starting to dwindle. We were quickly running out of fuel for the generators that power our life-saving equipment.
Perhaps the most heartbreaking moment was when we could no longer care for our premature baby in the incubator due to lack of fuel and oxygen. We had to transfer them to the operating room to keep them warm. They were having trouble breathing and we had no oxygen to help them. We lost eight innocent babies. That day, I remember sitting and crying for a long time for those innocent souls.
Then, on November 15, Israeli soldiers stormed the complex. The attack came as a shock. As a medical facility, it had to be protected under international law, but that did not stop the Israeli military from stopping it.
Just before the raid, my administration said it received a call saying the Israelis were going to raid the medical complex. We quickly closed the emergency room door and gathered around the nursing desk inside, not knowing what to do. The next day we saw Israeli soldiers surrounding the building. We couldn’t leave and we were short on medical supplies. We struggled to provide care to the patients we had together.
We had no food or water left. I remember feeling dizzy and almost fainting. I haven’t eaten anything for three days. We lost some patients due to the siege and Israeli raids.
On November 18, the head of al-Shifa, Dr. Mohammad Abu Salmiya, came to us and told us that Israel had ordered the evacuation of the entire medical facility. If I had had a choice, I would have stayed, but the Israeli army left me none of them.
Hundreds of our doctors and nurses were forced to leave, along with many other patients. Only about 20 staff members were left behind with patients lying in immobile beds. Dr. Abu Salmiya also stayed behind and was arrested a few days later. He disappeared for the next seven months.
Following Israel’s orders, I head south with dozens of my colleagues. Alaa and several others ignored these orders and headed north to their families. We walked for several kilometers and passed an Israeli checkpoint. There we had to wait for several hours until we could find a donkey cart that could transport us for some distance.
When I finally arrived in Lapa, I was really happy to see my family. There was a lot of crying and relief. But the happiness with the family was soon overshadowed by shocking news.
Alaa was able to return to his family in Beit Lahiya, where he was housed in a school shelter. But when she and her brother went to the abandoned house to retrieve their belongings, an Israeli missile hit the building and they were martyred.
The news of her death came as a huge shock. A year later, I am still living with the pain of losing a close friend. He was one of the sweetest people who loved helping others and always comforted me in difficult moments.
In March, Israeli forces returned to al-Shifa. For two weeks they swept through the hospital, leaving death and devastation in their wake. There was not a single building left in the medical complex that was not damaged or lost. Al Shifa, once a place of healing, was turned into a cemetery.
I don’t know how I will feel when I visit the hospital again. How would I feel if I knew that the site of my greatest professional achievements and the most precious moments shared with colleagues had become a place of death, enforced disappearance, and forced displacement?
Now, a year after losing my job, I am living in a tent and caring for patients in a makeshift clinic. My future, our future, is uncertain. But I have a dream for the new year. It is to see Al Shifa as its former grandeur and beauty.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.
