Where's My Daddy?

Hiba Saloum, a 4 year old Palestinian girl has been asking her mother this question since the day her father was killed. Her father, Mohammad, was a hero so to speak. It was afternoon, and the call for prayers had been made. As per his daily routine, Mohammad went to offer afternoon prayers. Few had been brave enough or dared to come out of their homes and offer prayers in a congregation during the recent conflict. I suppose it is very likely that he would have been asking God to help end the endless days of attacks. Little did he know what fate had in store for him.

Those who survived the upcoming deadly afternoon explained that as they were offering their prayers the loud supersonic sounds of approaching F-16 fighter jets were heard overhead. Following a large explosion that had jolted everyone to the ground, the jets unloaded an arsenal of missiles upon the local police station. The police station was completely decimated. Hiba’s uncle, Gibran, who also was in the mosque, described the carnage. I can only picture it in my mind, like a seen from a Hollywood movie. He said there were body parts strewn across the rubble, some people were simply gasping for their last breaths, while others could be heard screaming for help. A scene of utter and total chaos along with despair beyond belief.

Hiba's father and the others who were nearby ran to help their fellow brothers and sisters. As they were scouring through the wreckage helping and searching for survivors, an attack helicopter soon appeared and showered a hail of bullets and rocket fire on the small crowd beneath. Mohammad died helping others that day. I found a tear rolling down my cheek, as Hiba’s mother Fatima and Gibran told me the story. Hopefully one day Hiba can understand that her father died helping fellow man--a hero in my book.

History tends to only record the number of dead, seriously wounded, and the children who are hurt or killed during war. What I noticed, were the ones who are unspoken for. The children, like Hiba, The orphans--regardless if they lost one or both parents. Life is never the same for any child who has lost a parent, but imagine the uphill battle to survive in a war torn region like Gaza. Life is hard enough for the ones who survive year after year, despite the embargo and all its effects. Operation "Cast Lead" left over 2000 new orphans who ask the same questions. These children experience nightmares, bedwetting, and even the loss of control of their bowels--Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is an understatement, to say the least.

As physicians we are trained to handle all situations and all types of patients. But I could not find the words to console the children who told stories of seeing their parent’s bodies under the rubble, or bullet-ridden torsos lying in the front yard. The effects of 23 days of bombings and planes flying overhead have taken their toll on many, but it is the children who must live on with such memories, that need us most now.

It is heartening to see surgeons, trauma doctors, pediatricians and critical care specialists volunteer their time but we must not lose sight of the most important part of the body that has taken the greatest blow--the beautiful mind. I applaud my colleagues in the mental health professions that traveled to Gaza and can only hope that the borders are eased so that these heroes of medicine can continue to come, listen, and treat the children. Hopefully they can better serve to help answer questions that many physicians cannot—like that of Hiba: "Where's my daddy?"

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