Gaza Herald _Israel’s war on Gaza has tested far more than the territory’s already fragile healthcare system. It has pushed doctors, nurses, and paramedics into one of the gravest humanitarian crises in modern history, forcing them to treat the wounded under relentless bombardment, amid severe shortages of medicine, medical supplies, electricity, and functioning hospital infrastructure. Inside Al-Shifa Medical Complex and Al-Ahli Arab Hospital, nurse Kifaya Abu Asi witnessed firsthand how hospitals ceased to be places of healing and became battlegrounds where every minute was a struggle for life.
At just 26 years old, Abu Asi’s story reflects the experience of countless Palestinian healthcare workers who found themselves on the front lines of the war. Before she had even completed her nursing degree, she was thrust into emergency medical service, caring for critically wounded patients under conditions that lacked even the most basic resources required for safe medical care.
She was preparing to finish her university studies when Israel launched its military assault on Gaza in October 2023. Like many new graduates, she had imagined beginning her career in ordinary circumstances. Instead, she received an urgent appeal from Al-Shifa Medical Complex, where hospital administrators were desperately seeking volunteers as emergency departments became overwhelmed by waves of casualties.
Her family initially hesitated, fearful of the dangers she would face. Eventually, they agreed, believing Gaza needed every trained hand capable of helping save lives.
When she entered Al-Shifa for the first time in October 2023, nothing could have prepared her for what awaited.
The corridors were overflowing with wounded civilians. Cries of pain echoed throughout the building. Doctors and nurses moved continuously between patients, exhausted beyond their limits.
“There was no opportunity to learn gradually or adjust,” she recalled. “Every second meant the difference between life and death.”
Her shifts often stretched beyond 24 consecutive hours. When exhaustion became unbearable, she slept on the hospital floor for brief moments before returning to work. Meals were scarce, and whatever food was available was shared among staff.
Yet the greatest burden was not simply the overwhelming number of casualties.
“The hardest part wasn’t only the number of injured people,” she said. “We had almost none of the essentials needed to provide medical care. We lacked equipment, medications, reliable electricity, and even the time to stop and think. We were trying to keep an entire healthcare system alive while watching it collapse around us.”
As Israel intensified its attacks, the danger surrounding the hospital became impossible to ignore.
Late in 2023, shells struck around Al-Shifa Medical Complex, fires broke out nearby, and medical teams were forced to evacuate patients while continuing emergency treatment under constant threat.
“At that point, there was no difference between doctors and patients,” she said. “We were all in danger together. We ran through smoke and explosions, wondering if each moment would be our last.”
Eventually, Abu Asi was forced to leave Al-Shifa as attacks intensified.
She later joined Al-Ahli Arab Hospital, but the conditions there proved equally devastating.
After many physicians were displaced to southern Gaza, only a limited number of doctors, nurses, and volunteers remained to cope with an endless stream of casualties.
The hospital quickly became far more than a workplace.
Medical staff lived inside the building, sleeping wherever space could be found. They searched constantly for drinking water, food, and basic necessities while continuing to care for patients around the clock.
“Hunger became part of our daily routine,” she explained. “Meals weren’t guaranteed. Clean water was difficult to find. Electricity disappeared for hours at a time, forcing us to operate medical equipment with only minimal power, while ambulances kept arriving without stopping.”
One patient remains permanently etched in her memory.
The man arrived after surviving nearly two weeks trapped inside Al-Shifa during the siege.
His body had suffered severe burns. Several limbs had been amputated. Maggots had infested his wounds, and the smell of infection reflected the unimaginable conditions he had endured.
Treating him became far more than a medical challenge.
“It tested us emotionally as much as professionally,” she said.
The medical team worked with almost no anesthesia and only a fraction of the supplies normally required.
“The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.”
To cope psychologically, she wore multiple layers of gloves and protective clothing.
“At first, I thought creating another physical barrier might help create emotional distance too,” she said. “But nothing can prepare you for seeing people suffer like that. What hurt most was knowing we couldn’t give patients everything they needed.”
She recalled that many healthcare workers quietly broke down during their shifts.
“Someone would disappear for a few minutes to cry alone, then return immediately because another patient needed help.”
Despite the suffering, some moments reminded them why they continued.
Sometimes it was a survivor’s grateful smile.
Sometimes a patient reached out and held a nurse’s hand.
Sometimes a child regained consciousness after hours of uncertainty.
“Those small victories kept us going,” she said. “They reminded us why we couldn’t stop.”
Among the experiences that changed her forever was delivering a baby during the war’s earliest days—not inside a hospital, but inside a school sheltering displaced families in Gaza City’s Zeitoun neighborhood.
She had only a pair of gloves and a pair of scissors.
Without proper equipment and with limited practical experience, she successfully delivered a healthy baby girl and tied the umbilical cord using improvised tools.
“It showed us that even when almost everything is taken away, it’s still possible to save a life.”
Later, Abu Asi completed her nursing degree at Al-Israa University.
The achievement, however, was overshadowed by tragedy.
The university itself was destroyed during the war.
“For me, graduation wasn’t a celebration anymore,” she said. “It became another symbol of survival.”
Today, she continues serving patients in Al-Ahli Hospital’s burns and wound care department while also assisting emergency reception and surgical units.
She carries with her memories of exhaustion, fear, and loss, yet remains committed to the profession she chose.
“Fear is no longer something temporary,” she said. “It has become part of our everyday lives. We’ve learned to keep working while expecting death at any moment. But we never stopped trying to save lives.”
Abu Asi’s experience is far from unique.
Her story mirrors that of an entire generation of Palestinian doctors, nurses, and medical workers who have endured the near-collapse of Gaza’s healthcare system while continuing to fulfill their humanitarian mission, determined to preserve life, even if only for one more patient, one more hour, one more chance.
