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Testing the Waters— Palestine & Israel, 2006 |
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Journal, May 19, 2006 (edited May 27)—GazaDispatches from Gaza - 3By Skip Schiel The House of Suffering—Shifa HospitalThe main work of the day was visiting Gaza City's main hospital, Shifa. Calling it the house of suffering would not be an exaggeration. Expertly toured by Mohanad Al-Helo, a medical doctor working for an advanced degree in community health, we visited sick and dying people, suffering not only from the usual pains and threats of life but the siege, the occupation, the problems induced by the current political conditions, especially the US-led funding slashes. Cause of the injuries include the factional violence that cuts down innocent children, hits by the Israeli army, and even family violence generated by the anxieties of the siege. Most revealing, most difficult to observe were the children. Some on IV tubes, some with advanced cancer, some with bodies distorted by congenital disease, and the babies in incubators. These last touched me deeply, in part because of my daughter Joey's recent experience giving birth to Cid, and my other daughter Katy's impending birthing experience. Had an emergency occurred during Cid's transit out of womb, or should something onerous happen to baby Eleanor, despite the relative poverty of Kate and Joey and families, they will manage and manage well. Here in Gaza, no amount of money can guarantee proper treatment. Mohanad once practiced in this hospital and knows many of the staff. So when we went to the chief hospital administrator for permission to photograph, after some discussion—who is our visitor, where will the photos be used?—we received it. On a few occasions, such as in the emergency room, doctors denied us permission. Mohanad explained much of this is political, a reflection perhaps of the confused political state of the strip. One aspect of the dynamic is lack of funding, this is central. Needed equipment and supplies, medicines particularly, are not available. No money for drugs. Karni is often closed or slows down transit. Second, shipping patients to Israel or Egypt, as once was done regularly, now can't happen bec those govs won't subsidize treatment and the Palestinian Authority can't. And 3 rd , the staff is unpaid, bad for morale. Another aspect is the closure. Dr. Saad Aref, an affable, articulate director of the cardiology department, told me of his experience. He has a major leg problem, needed treatment outside Gaza, procured all the permissions, but was delayed for 2 days at Arez checkpoint into Israel. He had metal in his leg, failed one of the exit tests. The soldiers would not listen to his explanation nor examine papers he carried that explained his condition. No justification by the army, simply—you can't pass. He and his wife slept on the ground for 2 nights. Some internationals who happened to be coming thru Arez intervened and finally earned them permission to pass. Dr Aref explained further that stress from the occupation increases illness. True with heart conditions, surely, but also with diabetes and other ailments. Every one is nervous, no one knows how long the siege will last or how they will survive it. A new addition to the dynamic since the election victory of Hamas has been street violence between factions. We met one young man who'd been a bystander, was shot (or suffered an accident?) ,and was now surrounded by friends from his political party, some of them with rifles. Another young boy had been caught in cross fire. The kidney dialysis unit was filled with women, each sitting patiently with a blood-cleaning machine next to them, the tubes running into their arms. Men will come on another day. They all looked sallow and depressed, some had a characteristic pallor which could be mistaken for sunburn. Patients requiring 3 cleansings each week, because of the funding cuts, now have 2. In the pediatric ward, the incubators nursed prematurely born infants, some of them under eerie blue lights thought to be healing, others with face masks because of breathing problems, one with a failing heart. A technician was vigorously palpitating it. Wan men and boys filled one cancer ward. Mohanad explained here especially they suffer because of the lack of medication. They are just waiting to die, often with family members sitting with them. No chemotherapy or radiation. Little hope. Passing from building to building we noticed attendants slowly wheeling an elderly man into an ambulance. He's dead, Mohanad said. I photographed this corpse on its final journey. On my first Gaza visit last year, after visiting several hospitals in Khan Yunis and Jabalya, sitting in the taxi, I felt a storm of water building behind my eyes, about to burst the dam. I held my weeping until I was alone and later discovered that I now weep more readily now, at the flimsiest of causes. On this trip, walking thru the House of Suffering, I could feel that water surging again and was close to breaking down in tears in the hallway. Only this morning, over breakfast, visualizing what I'd seen yesterday, did the tears finally flow. —How do you deal with the suffering? I asked Mohanad. —I smoke, he replied. I know exactly what happens to a smoker's body, but smoking helps me thru the pain. I also get used to the suffering. You can't live with this degree of suffering and danger and always be thinking about it. He might have added that he is also trying to do something about the tragic situation of the Palestinians. He is shifting his practice from treating the individual to looking after the community. I am reminded that the word community is featured in the name of the organization he works for and I'm photoing for: the Gaza Community Mental Health Program. People ask me, how do you find Gaza? I tell them, I am sad, I am mad. LINKS: House Palestinian Anti-Terrorism Act: A Debate, Democracy Now, May 24, 2006 "Collapse of the Palestinian Health System," Physicians for Human Rights-Israel |
