“以百姓之心为心”服务百姓

Hasan was trying to reach an aid distribution site with his 14-year-old brother when he was shot in the leg last month. He was rushed to the Red Cross Field Hospital for surgery and now spends his days lying on a camp bed in a sweltering tent, waiting for further treatment.  

His father visits him most days.  

The eldest of five sons, Hasan says: “We go to bring aid for the family so we can eat. Before the war, we were fine. We would go out; my dad would bring us whatever we needed. We would go to school. Life was good then. Life has become terrible now. There's no flour or food. I go to bring whatever little aid is available, then leave. I was injured while trying to get food.”  

Hasan loves football, but it will be months before he can play again. For now, all he wants is to return home and feel safe. He says he won’t go outside again if it means risking his life.

"I want to heal and go home," Hasan said.

“When I leave the hospital, I'm staying at home because I don't want to be injured again.” 

Haitam, an Operating Theatre (OT) Nurse from the Norwegian Red Cross, is on his fourth rotation in Gaza. Since May 27, the workload has been higher than ever before, with an unprecedented number of cases coming in.  

“In previous rotations, we would work in the OT between 8-10 cases. Right now, we are working on 30-40 cases per day, which is a massive difference just in terms of workload. During these mass casualty incidents, we have people screaming, rushing, trying to be the first in line because, of course, everybody wants to be treated first. We have a variety of injuries, mostly complex injuries, blast injuries, but mainly gunshot injuries.”? 

At times, hundreds of people flood the Red Cross Field Hospital all at once. The chaos is distressing for the families of the injured, and most of all, for children. Dr. Sally, a Mental Health and Psychosocial Support (MHPSS) Field Officer at the hospital, often sees young children arrive in tears, overwhelmed by fear as they watch their loved ones suffer. In these moments, the MHPSS team steps in to offer immediate care, taking small but essential steps to restore a fragile sense of safety amid the turmoil.

“During mass casualties, we try to support them (the children) with basic psychosocial support, to help them to sit, to be calm, to wash their face, or drink water. This is what that we can provide, and we remain with them until they can calm down,” Dr Sally said.

Other children regularly come into the field hospital with injuries themselves.  

“One child, six years old, lost his mother, father, and sister. He had only one remaining sister, and he himself was injured in his leg. He stayed three weeks in the denial phase and did not accept that his mother and father had been killed. I tried to work with him, offering psychological sessions to gradually help him accept the deaths of those in his family – even to express his feelings instead of repressing them," Dr. Sally said.

"Eventually, he began to engage in recreational activities like colouring and playing, and he engaged with the team. These stories stay with us and affect us when we see them.” 

When mass casualty events overwhelm the hospital and bed occupancy reaches extreme levels - fluctuating between 160% and 190% in recent weeks - routine tasks like medical rounds are delayed, adding extra work and stress onto the staff. Staff must focus entirely on providing the best possible care to patients who are coming in. Yet even outside of mass casualty incidents, the needs don’t stop. People fall ill, patients require post-surgery care, and babies continue to be born.

One of those babies came into the world just days ago, as an alarm blared through the hospital, warning that stray bullets were nearby and urging everyone to move to safe areas. But not everyone can. Patients in surgery cannot be moved. Women in active labor - or the midwives delivering their babies must also stay put. 

“When the alarm goes off, sometimes it isn’t possible for the midwife to move. We have a mother who is giving birth in front of us, so we stay with the patient – maybe we can move her from the bed to the floor to make it as safe as we can, but there are many challenges,” said Maternity Team Leader Yasmeen. 

Thirty-nine-year-old Ghada was giving birth to her sixth child when the alarm for stray bullets rang out. As chaos unfolded around them, midwife Falasteen stayed by her side, calmly guiding her through the delivery. Thankfully, both Ghada and her newborn daughter, Asia, were unharmed. But incidents like this are becoming increasingly common at the field hospital, highlighting the growing security risks faced by patients and medical staff alike.

“I have five other children, the oldest 11, and we were displaced to Al-Mawasi. I was worried because my last birth was in better circumstances, in early 2024, when there were more hospitals. I became pregnant this time because I no longer had access to birth control,” Ghada told field hospital staff.

“I was worried about coming to a field hospital, but the staff have been really wonderful.”  

For Ghada, the fear doesn’t stop when the alarm sounds off. The dread follows her back home.

"The living circumstances are really difficult, and I am scared to go back to the tent with the heat and the flies. I’m concerned about Asia,” she said.