The First Time I Was Scared

One of my favorite quotes is from FDR and his first inaugural speech “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”. This truly described how as a team we all felt about being in a war torn region. The Gazan people themselves lived these words and showed such resilience that for any of us to be fearful seemed as if it were an insult to these brave people.

The sound of fighter jets overhead dropping bombs, the sight of Israeli patrol boats in the deep blue Mediterranean, or IDF soldiers along the border wall would make most people feel overwhelmed to say the least. Thankfully such incidents did not result in any feelings of anxiety nor overwhelming fear. We all soon became immune to these daily sights and sounds and went about our routine just as the Palestinian people went about life on a day-to-day basis.

Ironically, it was my last night in Gaza when I truly felt fear—but not fear for myself or my teammates. It was fear for a precious nine day old baby, Basem, whose life was in my hands. Routinely as an anesthesiologist, I deal with life and death every day, but this case was like no other. Basem had been born with a bladder abnormality resulting in the failure of both his kidneys. He needed an immediate life-saving intervention. A relatively common procedure back home in the USA was anything but routine in Gaza. Baby Basem required nephrostomy tubes, or in plain English, drainage tubes to be placed in each kidney. This was a temporizing measure until he could undergo corrective surgery for his bladder. The irony was there was no one in all of Gaza trained in either placing the drains or to do the surgery. It was a blessing for this family that our team had two highly-skilled interventional radiologists—Imran Qureshi and Labib Syed.

Taking care of a nine day old child in Al-Shifa's operating room would be no easy task. I asked Shazia Chaudhry, a highly-trained doctor in both pediatrics and emergency medicine to join me for this procedure. I soon discovered the operating room did not have anesthesia equipment small enough for Basem. My worst fear was now a reality; I would have to provide a general anesthetic to this deathly ill baby without any monitoring whatsoever and use a substandard anesthesia machine. Shazia was truly instrumental--as Imran and Labib were a blessing for the baby, Shazia was for me.

I can still vividly remember the feeling of my heart racing with anxiety, as I put this beautiful little baby to sleep, seeking reassurances from Shazia--who had one finger on Basem’s pulse while listening to him breathe through her stethoscope. The nightmare scenario worsened as we lost intravenous (IV) access and could not find a catheter small enough to start another one. No monitors, no IV and a nine day old baby whose life was in my hands. On the outside I may have been calm and cool, but on the inside it was shear fear running through my veins with each successive tick of the clock.

Imran and Labib rushed to improvise as they too were challenged by the embargo and its effects on Gaza’s healthcare system. They soon were also able to improvise and successfully place both tubes. I let out a sigh of relief as we took this tiny bundle of life to the recovery area.

My heart was no longer pounding, and as I sat down it dawned on me that what we did was only a temporary procedure. Corrective reconstructive bladder surgery would soon be required—and there was no one in all of Gaza that could do it. I prayed that night as I was leaving for home with mixed emotions. A sense of joy that Basem had the chance of living a normal life, and a sense of emptiness that all we did, might have been in vain. I still remained scared for Baby Basem.

Dr. Ismail Mehr is an anesthesiologist from Hornell, NY. He was the team leader for the American medical mission.