Barzilai Hospital in Ashkelon has been under fire from Hamas rockets that came in without warning. On Wednesday, one hit the childcare clinic. There were no children there at the time because most of the hospital was moved underground but its director was rescued from the safe room that was covered by broken concrete and glass. It was the second time that the hospital, which has never stopped operating and treating the mass casualty influx, took a direct hit.
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Since October 7, 685 wounded were treated, 100 hospitalized with serious injury and by the end of last week, 25 remained, most having been operated on. "The injuries we've seen were severe. Gunshots from close range, requiring emergency surgery. Our teams rush into operating theatres. We've transferred many of the severe cases to other hospitals so that they receive the urgent care they need." Dr. Hezy Levy, Hospital director says. "The hospital, because of its location in the south, is used to respond to incoming fire and prepare for an influx of wounded in the ER and in the surgical wards. I think we've responded well, thanks to our incredible team.
Orit, a member of the staff for the past 30 years says she's never seen anything remotely similar to the injuries treated by her colleagues in their cruelty. "It's hard for us, but this is our calling," she says but agrees the sense of shock is felt by all the staff.
Dr. Assaf Ozen, comes to work from his home in Sderot. It is close to the border with Gaza, has been invaded by murderous terrorists and is under nearly constant rocket fire. "This caught us by surprise and dealt a blow to our sense of security that had not been all that good to begin with," he says. "My wife and children are in Haifa now, which for the moment is a better place to be, and I am here."
The 40% who had remained in Sderot during the first week of the war, were finally being evacuated by the government while those who were able to, had left, to get away from the endless shelling and the constant fear that more terrorists could infiltrate their city.
'I'm optimistic," Ozen says. "I hope what had happened would never happen again and the situation would be different. This could happen elsewhere tomorrow. I believe there is unity again among Israelis and we will be able to return to how things were five years ago. At the moment I have a home to go back to but I don't know if my wife would be willing to come back."
Dr. Amir abu-Asal, is standing and listening to his friend Ozen speak. He is a senior doctor of emergency medicine and rushed in as soon as he heard what had happened and heard the screams when he phoned into the ward. His Bedouin town of Rahat was also under attack. "Saturday was the hardest day in my career in emergency medicine," he said. I came to a real battle with many people, blood and injuries. It was an indescribable situation. But when you are there, you disconnect from emotions and work. This is what the training in emergency medicine teaches you. We just go to the business of saving lives. Only now, am I trying to grasp what we dealt with and are still dealing with but at least now, we are not faced with the same levels of injury and death as on that day."
The hospital is prepared is in constant readiness to take in wounded. Siren sound, ambulances rush in, military vehicles or private cars drop the injured at the door of the ER and move on. The team hopes for things to quiet down but beds and equipment are prepared and so are they.
Professor Ronen Debi is head of the orthopedic ER. "for 24 hours we tried to save the limbs of hundreds of people. The Home Front tried to move wounded who were not suffering life or limb-threatening wounds, to other hospitals in the center of the country. Even now our operating rooms are working to save these lives and are prepared for what may still come. I've been getting texts from many doctors from Israel and abroad, who want to come here and volunteer to help," he says.
Ron Sirkin, an ER nurse says they have no other option and show up to do the best that they can. "You move away for a minute to cry and then go back to work. There is no other way to handle what you've seen. Those images are etched in the memory."
Lotem Aken, another ER nurse, who lives in Ashkelon says the team is on automatic pilot. "We know our job and how to treat wounded but not so many. We wipe our tears and move on to do our best," she says.
1300+ KILLED BY HAMAS IN TERROR ATTACKS
