In Gaza, Hospital Procedures without Anaesthetics Prompted Screams, Prayers

A wounded Palestinian man lies on a bed in Shifa hospital in Gaza City May 17, 2021. REUTERS/Mohammed Salem Acquire Licensing Rights
A wounded Palestinian man lies on a bed in Shifa hospital in Gaza City May 17, 2021. REUTERS/Mohammed Salem Acquire Licensing Rights
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In Gaza, Hospital Procedures without Anaesthetics Prompted Screams, Prayers

A wounded Palestinian man lies on a bed in Shifa hospital in Gaza City May 17, 2021. REUTERS/Mohammed Salem Acquire Licensing Rights
A wounded Palestinian man lies on a bed in Shifa hospital in Gaza City May 17, 2021. REUTERS/Mohammed Salem Acquire Licensing Rights

The little girl was weeping in pain and screaming "Mummy, Mummy" while the nurse stitched up her head wound without using any anaesthetic, because none was available at the time at Al Shifa Hospital in Gaza City.

That was one of the worst moments nurse Abu Emad Hassanein could recall as he described the struggle to deal with an unprecedented influx of wounded people and a dearth of pain relief medication since the war in Gaza started a month ago.

"Sometimes we give some of them sterile gauze (to bite on) to reduce the pain," said Hassanein.

"We know that the pain they feel is more than someone would imagine, beyond what someone their age would stand," he said, referring to children like the girl with the head wound.

Arriving at Al Shifa to have the dressing changed and disinfectant applied to a wound on his back caused by an air strike, Nemer Abu Thair, a middle-aged man, said that he was given no pain relief when the wound was originally stitched up.

"I kept reciting the Quran until they finished," The Associated Press quoted him saying.

The war started on Oct. 7 when Hamas fighters burst through the Gaza Strip's border fence with southern Israel. Israel says Hamas killed 1,400 people and abducted 240, in the worst day of carnage in Israel's history.

Israel responded with an air, sea and ground assault on the densely populated Gaza strip which health officials say has killed more than 10,800 Palestinians.

Mohammad Abu Selmeyah, the director of Al Shifa Hospital, said that when very large numbers of injured people have been brought in at the same time, there has been no choice but to deal with them on the floor, without adequate pain relief.

He gave as an example the immediate aftermath of an explosion at the Al Ahli Arab Hospital on Oct. 17, when he said some 250 injured people arrived at Al Shifa, which has only 12 operating theaters.

"If we had waited to operate on them one by one, we would have lost many of the wounded," said Abu Selmeyah.

"We were forced to operate on the ground and without anaesthesia, or using simple anaesthesia or weak pain killers to save lives," he said.

Procedures that have been performed by staff at Al Shifa under such circumstances have included amputating limbs and fingers, stitching up serious wounds, and treating serious burns, said Abu Selmeyah, without elaborating.

"It is painful for the medical team. It is not simple. It is either the patient suffers pain or loses his life," he said.

At Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, in the south of the Gaza Strip, director Dr Mohammad Zaqout said there had been a period early on in the war when anaesthetic supplies ran out completely, until aid trucks were allowed in.

"Some procedures were carried out without anaesthesia, including Caesarian sections on women, and we were also forced to operate on some burns that way too," said Zaqout.

He said that staff did their best to alleviate patients' pain with other, weaker medications, but this was inadequate.

"This is not the ideal solution for a patient inside an operating theatre, who we want to operate on with full anaesthesia," he said.

For the first 12 days of the war, no aid was allowed into Gaza. On Oct. 21, a first convoy of aid trucks came in through the Rafah Crossing on the strip's border with Egypt. Since then, several convoys have entered, but the United Nations and international aid groups say the aid provided is nowhere near the scale needed to mitigate a humanitarian catastrophe.

Zaqout added that while the shortage of anaesthesia had been eased at his own hospital thanks to aid deliveries, there were still severe shortages at Al Shifa and at the Indonesian Hospital, both of which are in the heavily bombarded north of the strip.

 

 

 



Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
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Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi

In the Mazzeh 86 neighborhood, west of the Syrian capital Damascus, the names of many shops, grocery stores, and public squares still serve as a reminder of the era of ousted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father, Hafez al-Assad.

This is evident in landmarks like the “Al-Hafez Restaurant,” one of the prominent features of this area. Squares such as “Al-Areen,” “Officers,” and “Bride of the Mountain” evoke memories of the buildings surrounding them, which once housed influential officials and high-ranking officers in intelligence and security agencies. These individuals instilled fear in Syrians for five decades until their historic escape on the night of the regime’s collapse last month.

In this neighborhood, the effects of Israeli bombing are clearly visible, as it was targeted multiple times. Meanwhile, its narrow streets and alleys were strewn with military uniforms abandoned by leaders who fled before military operations arrived and liberated the area from their grip on December 8 of last year.

Here, stark contradictions come to light during a tour by Asharq Al-Awsat in a district that, until recently, was largely loyal to the former president. Muaz, a 42-year-old resident of the area, recounts how most officers and security personnel shed their military uniforms and discarded them in the streets on the night of Assad’s escape.

He said: “Many of them brought down their weapons and military ranks in the streets and fled to their hometowns along the Syrian coast.”

Administratively part of Damascus, Mazzeh 86 consists of concrete blocks randomly built between the Mazzeh Western Villas area, the Mazzeh Highway, and the well-known Sheikh Saad commercial district. Its ownership originally belonged to the residents of the Mazzeh area in Damascus. The region was once agricultural land and rocky mountain terrain. The peaks extending toward Mount Qasioun were previously seized by the Ministry of Defense, which instructed security and army personnel to build homes there without requiring property ownership documents.

Suleiman, a 30-year-old shop owner, who sells white meat and chicken, hails from the city of Jableh in the coastal province of Latakia. His father moved to this neighborhood in the 1970s to work as an army assistant.

Suleiman says he hears the sound of gunfire every evening, while General Security patrols roam the streets “searching for remnants of the former regime and wanted individuals who refuse to surrender their weapons. We fear reprisals and just want to live in peace.”

He mentioned that prices before December 8 were exorbitant and beyond the purchasing power of Syrians, with the price of a kilogram of chicken exceeding 60,000 Syrian pounds and a carton of eggs reaching 75,000.

“A single egg was sold for 2,500 pounds, which is far beyond the purchasing power of any employee in the public or private sector,” due to low salaries and the deteriorating living conditions across the country,” Suleiman added.

On the sides of the roads, pictures of the fugitive president and his father, Hafez al-Assad, were torn down, while military vehicles were parked, awaiting instructions.

Maram, 46, who previously worked as a civilian employee in the Ministry of Defense, says she is waiting for the resolution of employment statuses for workers in army institutions. She stated: “So far, there are no instructions regarding our situation. The army forces and security personnel have been given the opportunity for settlement, but there is no talk about us.”

The neighborhood, in its current form, dates back to the 1980s when Rifaat al-Assad, the younger brother of former President Hafez al-Assad, was allowed to construct the “Defense Palace,” which was referred to as “Brigade 86.” Its location is the same area now known as Mazzeh Jabal 86.

The area is divided into two parts: Mazzeh Madrasa (School) and Mazzeh Khazan (Tank). The first takes its name from the first school built and opened in the area, while the second is named after the water tank that supplies the entire Mazzeh region.

Two sources from the Mazzeh Municipality and the Mukhtar’s office estimate the neighborhood’s current population at approximately 200,000, down from over 300,000 before Assad’s fall. Most residents originate from Syria’s coastal regions, followed by those from interior provinces like Homs and Hama. There was also a portion of Kurds who had moved from the Jazira region in northeastern Syria to live there, but most returned to their areas due to the security grip and after the “Crisis Cell” bombing that killed senior security officials in mid-2012.

Along the main street connecting Al-Huda Square to Al-Sahla Pharmacy, torn images of President Hafez al-Assad are visible for the first time in this area in five decades. On balconies and walls, traces of Bashar al-Assad’s posters remain, bearing witness to his 24-year era.