A Doctor Visited His Gaza Hometown A Week Before October 7. He Never Left

It has been a year since the war between Israel and Hamas erupted, a conflict that has brought unspeakable devastation to the Gaza Strip. The days since October 7 have stretched into months of relentless bombings, displacement, and desperation. For the people living in Gaza, the conflict has stripped them of their homes, their loved ones, and their sense of normalcy. It is not just buildings that have crumbled, but entire lives - careers, dreams, families - torn apart by the ravages of war.

The numbers tell only part of the story. Behind each statistic is a personal tragedy. Homes are now rubble, hospitals are overwhelmed, and the world seems to look on helplessly, watching as the conflict deepens. The war has displaced hundreds of thousands, turning vibrant communities into mere shadows of their former selves. For the survivors, daily life is a continuous struggle, and yet within that struggle, there are those who push forward.

One such individual is Dr Khaled Alshawwa, a 31-year-old surgeon from Gaza City. Khaled, like many in his community, never planned to be on the frontlines of a humanitarian crisis. Just a week before the war, he had completed his surgical training at Almakassed Hospital in Jerusalem, a prestigious medical institution. He had returned to Gaza for what was meant to be a brief family visit-just a few days to reconnect with loved ones before continuing his career.

But then the war began, and everything changed. In an instant, Khaled found himself in the midst of one of the most brutal conflicts Gaza has seen, unable to leave, compelled to stay and help.

"The immediate aftermath was chaos," Khaled recalls. "We faced an overwhelming influx of severely injured patients with limited medical supplies and infrastructure. This was much aggregated and intensified after the destruction of many hospitals. As a doctor, I have to prioritise cases, often making difficult decisions with minimal resources."

Khaled, a surgeon trained for the most complex procedures, was forced to make rapid, agonising decisions with almost no support.

"Life has drastically changed. I am constantly navigating between being a surgeon, managing medical points, struggling to provide basic daily needs to me and my family like fresh water, food and a place to stay in amidst severe shortages of resources and ongoing bombings," Khaled said.

The injuries that filled the hospitals were devastating: shrapnel wounds, blast injuries, complex fractures, severe burns, and traumatic amputations. "Many of the injuries involve multiple body parts," he explains, requiring teams of surgeons working in tandem. But with a healthcare system on the brink of collapse, they don't have the luxury of specialisation. "We are stretched beyond belief. A surgeon might have to handle trauma, pediatric surgery, even urology, and vascular procedures, all at once. It is exhausting, physically and mentally."

The situation was made worse by the fact that medical supplies are running low. Basic necessities - anaesthetics, sutures, bandages, antibiotics - are in short supply. "We have to improvise," he says. "In some cases, we had no choice but to turn to telemedicine, relying on colleagues abroad for guidance."

The chaos of the war meant that Khaled's life is in constant motion. "I have moved seven times since the war began," he says, each relocation a desperate attempt to keep his family safe. His base of operations has also shifted as the conflict ebbs and flows. "I have volunteered at almost every hospital in Gaza City," he explains, as the nature of the war has required him to be flexible. "Wherever I go, I try to offer what little help I can."

For Khaled, each new base brings with it a fresh set of challenges. He describes the scenes with stark clarity - overcrowded refugee camps, where families huddle together in makeshift shelters, trying to stay alive amidst airstrikes from Israel. "Infection control is nearly impossible in these conditions," he says, pointing to the lack of sanitation and clean water. Overcrowding in the camps has led to the rapid spread of disease. "We are seeing infections in open wounds, as well as dermatological diseases in previously healthy people."

These camps, Khaled notes, are where the most vulnerable-women and children-are suffering the most. "Maternity and pediatric care are severely impacted," he says. "Many women are giving birth in unsafe environments, and children are missing out on basic healthcare." Immunisation programs, vital to protecting children from preventable diseases, have also been disrupted. Khaled himself was involved in a recent polio vaccination campaign organised by the Palestine Red Crescent Society. Despite the overwhelming challenges, including maintaining cold chains for vaccines in areas with no electricity, the team managed to vaccinate over 120,000 children under the age of ten in North Gaza.

But it is not enough.

The strain on Gaza's healthcare system is unprecedented, and the long-term impact of the war on public health is staggering. "The magnitude of disability we are witnessing is terrifying," Khaled says. The rise in amputations, spinal injuries, and traumatic brain damage will have consequences that last for decades. "These are injuries that will require years, if not a lifetime, of care," he warns. "The healthcare system simply isn't equipped to deal with this."

Like many in Gaza, Khaled's personal losses are intertwined with the collective grief of his people. "I lost my mother in a bombing," he revealed. In addition to his mother, he has lost his home and many close friends. But despite this immense personal loss, Khaled has remained resolute. "It's tough," he admits. "Psychologically, it's very hard. The constant pressure, the loss, the fear for your family - it takes a toll."

And yet, like so many others in Gaza, Khaled continues to move forward. "Staying focused on helping others is what keeps me going," he says, though there are moments when the weight of it all feels unbearable. "Every day is a struggle," he admits. "But I can't give up, not when there are so many people depending on us."

The war in Gaza is not happening in isolation. The Israeli-Hamas conflict has drawn in international players, with each new development bringing the risk of a broader regional conflict. In Lebanon, Israeli airstrikes have intensified, killing hundreds. Hezbollah, a militant group backed by Iran, has escalated its exchanges with Israel, meaning that the war has extended far beyond Gaza's borders.

In Europe, the conflict has sparked a political backlash. Countries like Spain and Ireland have recognised the State of Palestine in defiance of Israeli opposition. The United States on the other hand continues to provide Israel with military and financial support, most recently approving an $8.7 billion aid package. For Palestinians like Khaled, international aid is critical to the survival of Gaza's healthcare system, yet the future of that support remains uncertain.

The United Nations estimates that nearly 80,000 homes have been destroyed, and it could take decades to rebuild the city. Khaled agrees. "It will take years, maybe even decades, to get Gaza's health infrastructure back on track," Khaled says. "Without substantial international aid, the recovery will be slow, and people will continue to suffer."

But the road to recovery is long, and the scars of this war will linger for generations.