I’m a surgeon, and I’ve been refused re-entry to Gaza – we need a medical ceasefire now
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Version 0 of 1. Doctors sign the hippocratic oath to do no harm, but how can we treat people without hospitals, staff and enough medicines? On 1 July 2024, the European hospital in Gaza evacuated all patients and staff. On that day I should have been shoulder to shoulder with my colleagues. I should have been tending gravely injured patients. I should have been helping them to flee. On ventilators, hooked up to IV fluids, on gurneys, in and out of consciousness and clinging to life, they had done nothing to deserve their situation, and they deserved my help. Instead, I watched from my home in Texas and read messages from the other medics, as an overcrowded hospital transformed into a ghost town. With anguish, I witnessed the tragedy unfold from afar. A week earlier, I had been in Jordan with the rest of my team, preparing to cross into Gaza for our humanitarian mission. However, less than 48 hours before we attempted the Rafah border crossing, the Israeli military refused my entry “due to Palestinian roots”. I had been previously to the European hospital on a medical mission in April, and at that time the authorities had voiced no objections to my entry. At the hospital, conditions were those of a war zone: 500 critically injured patients in a 200-bed facility. And yet, staff prevailed against the odds to deliver life-sustaining and life-saving care every day. For two weeks I performed orthopaedic surgeries on patients who would have died had they not undergone these procedures. On that medical mission, I witnessed how the hospital provided a haven for thousands of displaced civilians. I could not walk down the hallways side by side with other colleagues because so many makeshift tents lined every corridor. I also saw first-hand what a dire need there is for medical practitioners. In such impossible conditions, every clinician denied entry translates to injured or ill patients who won’t receive care. I wish I could say the evacuation of the European hospital, filled with injured patients and displaced families, shocked me. I wish I could say the airstrike on the al-Aqsa hospital complex shocked me. Or that the latest raid on the Kamal Adwan hospital shocked me. But what has happened, and what is happening, aligns with my experiences in Gaza. My supervisor at the European hospital instructed me to do everything I could to perform operations that would keep patients mobile, so that if they were ordered to leave, they could do so immediately. Rather than providing care that would enable our patients to heal fully, we were forced to perform short-term fixes, so that patients could bear weight in case they needed to flee on foot. This led to preventable long-term damage, and during the course of my mission, I worked on complications arising from this. I’m sure the surgeons after me dealt with complications from my surgeries as well. My time at the European hospital made me face the ugly reality of medical care in a war zone. I saw how patient care must be triaged, how valuable supplies are similarly rationed and how tracking patient outcomes becomes impractical, if not impossible. In this, I came to terms with the fact that much of the medical care I provided was just buying time. If my patients didn’t die from the initial injury, many of them would probably die from an infection later. The postoperative infection rate is roughly 80%. I am told that humanitarian supplies are prevented from entering Gaza, including vital medicines. If true, this prohibition must stop. It is killing our patients. Willing clinicians like me must also be allowed to serve the patients in Gaza who deserve our care. As long as there are medical practitioners who want to do everything we can, for whomever we can, with whatever means we have, I know that miracles will continue to happen. But I understand we also need real-world solutions, political solutions; not simply optimism in the face of death. As a medical practitioner, I am not so familiar with diplomacy and international relations. However, a medical professional is guided by the Hippocratic oath, which states: “Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrongdoing and harm.” Be they soldiers or children, I seek to heal all those who are sick or dying. With this oath in mind, and with the basic understanding that no harm should come to the sick, I believe it is time that we call on all actors in this war to effectuate a medical ceasefire. A medical ceasefire comprises three principles: that the bombardment of hospitals is a diplomatic red line; that no hospitals in Gaza will be forced to evacuate; and that no medical supplies or clinicians are prevented from entering Gaza. I call upon basic principles of faith shared by all those involved in the conflict to promote this medical ceasefire. Christian charity, Muslim zakat and Jewish tzedakah all agree that it is our duty and ethical obligation as human beings to render aid to those who most need it. Let us therefore make known to all our leaders that a medical ceasefire is the moral policy goal we wish to achieve. Dr Ali Elaydi is an orthopaedic surgeon. He is Palestinian-American and originally from Gaza Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here. Dr Ali Elaydi is an orthopaedic surgeon. He is Palestinian-American and originally from Gaza Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here. |