DaysofPal- At Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, Gaza, four volunteer doctors share their experiences of working amidst the devastation. Their days are filled with relentless efforts to save lives, but the overwhelming scale of suffering leaves them grappling with feelings of inadequacy and sorrow.
Dr. Ehab Massad, a thoracic surgeon and member of a medical mission organized by Rahma Worldwide, struggles to process the harrowing scenes he encounters daily. “It’s impossible to forget the images of starving, traumatized, and injured children,” he says. Despite their tireless work, Massad feels that what they can offer is never enough. “But at least I feel like I’m doing my part now rather than sitting outside Gaza helplessly watching the news.”
This sentiment is shared by three other volunteer doctors who spoke to Al Jazeera. Orthopedic surgeon Dr. Anas Hijjawi describes how hundreds of doctors have signed up for missions to Gaza, some waiting months for an opportunity to serve. Meanwhile, ophthalmic surgeon Dr. Diyaa Rachdan fights to steady his voice as he reflects on the end of their mission. “We’re leaving tomorrow, but I hope there will be more—and longer—trips to Gaza in the future,” he adds.
The challenges faced by these doctors extend far beyond emotional exhaustion. The Israeli blockade, now entering its 19th month, has severely restricted the flow of medical supplies into Gaza. As a result, the volunteers must make do with limited resources, often reusing disposable tools due to necessity—a practice that risks infections but leaves them no choice.
Dr. Hijjawi explains the constant frustration of being unable to provide adequate care. “Sometimes we lack basic items like metal plates or screws needed for surgeries. We improvise because it’s the only way to stabilize patients so they might seek further treatment elsewhere someday.”
Dr. Mohammad Almanaseer, a urology consultant based in Qatar, echoes this despair. He recounts the profound exhaustion of Gaza’s overworked medical teams, who have been laboring non-stop for nearly two years despite personal tragedies. His voice breaks as he recalls Kinan, a two-year-old boy brought to the emergency room after surviving an Israeli airstrike that killed his mother.
“The resuscitation attempts were made, and we rushed him into surgery, but it became clear that he wouldn’t survive,” Almanaseer remembers. The child passed away the next morning. “He was the same age as my son, and even shared his name—Kinan. May God embrace him and his mother.”
Stories like Kinan’s haunt the medical staff, yet they press on, treating countless others whose injuries demand urgent attention while less critical cases are pushed aside indefinitely. Among those awaiting care are patients requiring cataract surgery, some of whom benefited from Dr. Rachdan’s expertise during this mission.
Despite the unimaginable hardships, the resilience of the Gazan people inspires awe among the visiting doctors. Dr. Hijjawi recounts meeting an operating room nurse who faces each day knowing it could be his last. One afternoon, ambulances arrived carrying news that the nurse’s home had been bombed. His family members were brought back—parents killed, others injured—but just two days later, the nurse returned to work without complaint.
Children, however, remain the heartbreakingly silent witnesses to this tragedy. Visibly affected by their pain, the doctors speak softly when interacting with young patients. Dr. Almanaseer visits a girl recovering from severe burns covering much of her body. She quietly asks if she’ll be left with scars. In another room, Dr. Hijjawi examines a young girl’s leg and gently encourages a boy to wiggle his toes to assess healing progress.
In one corner lies a girl wrapped in a recovery blanket, her bandaged arm needing evaluation. Squatting beside her bed, Hijjawi carefully moves her fingers, noting concern about lost sensation in two digits. He explains the need for surgical exploration to worried relatives.
The children rarely cry out or complain, instead lying still, wide-eyed, enduring their pain in silence. Many wait anxiously for loved ones who may never come. “Their minds drift off, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty,” Hijjawi observes. “They’re dealing with so much—physical pain, loneliness, and the trauma of losing family members. It’s no wonder they stay quiet for hours.”
For these volunteer doctors, the memories of Gaza’s suffering children will linger long after their departure. While they leave behind fear, pain, and destruction, they also carry faint glimmers of hope inspired by the courage of the people they served.
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