My name is Nour Raed Kamal Al-Dawawsa (24), married and lived with my husband in our house in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza. On the morning of 07 October 2023, we woke up to awkward sounds coming from the seaside that I first thought were just sounds of regular military training. However, it was different this time; these deafening explosions have turned into inevitable reality. Gripped by fear, we decided to stay home. Days passed and the situation got worse with our area becoming almost empty except for the hovering sound of Israeli drones. We had no choice but to leave home and seek refuge in my family house in Beit Lahia Housing Project.
My 4-story family house full of my childhood memories have become a temporary haven for my big family. We were around 30 people in the house, including my parents, siblings, grandparents and 3 uncles with their families. This experience had opened my eyes to a new meaning of security and stability and how we, women, can manage our life in the face of hellish circumstances.
At 4:00, on 22 November 2023, we all woke up, and it was alarmingly calm. We chitchatted for a bit; little did we realize that these moments were indeed a farewell. With sunrise, most of us felt drowsy, and some went back to sleep in their bedrooms. As for my mother, she found a relief in kneading dough, a routine to send her back to what normal life used to be. Meanwhile, I went to prepare breakfast with my siblings, Nadim and Rimas. Those simple family moments were our attempts to flee the fear haunting us.
Suddenly, I felt the house spinning around us, and Nadim and Rimas began screaming. We did not understand what was happening, so I turned off the oven and ran towards them. At that moment, I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I found myself under the rubble, with the ceiling covering my body, lying on my back, Rimas and Nadim were near my feet, alive.
I asked them to help me get out, but they decided to go out first and call for help to come and rescue me. As they left, the Israeli warplanes fired another missile, killing both on the street while trying to get help and save me. These moments of absolute terror and pain will be forever etched in my memory.
I was pulled from the rubble the same day, as I had been knocking on the aluminum frame of a window next to me, which drew the attention of neighbors who rushed to rescue me. They took me to Kamal Adwan Hospital in northern Gaza, where I found myself lying on the floor in excruciating pain, without painkillers. The medical personnel were helpless due to the scarce resources and the relentless bombardment on civilians.
It was bloody traumatizing, and the smell of death hung in every corner. After four days of suffering, the hospital staff managed to coordinate with the Red Cross to transfer me and my husband, who had been pulled from the rubble after three days, to the southern Gaza Strip.
We were transported to southern Gaza on a 50-passenger bus where I was placed in the cargo area on a stretcher. We were not even allowed to be moved by ambulance. We arrived at Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, where the doctors told me that the brutal Israeli bombing had caused me a spinal injury, resulting in paralysis of my lower limbs. I underwent surgery to implant platinum in my back and a vertebra in the spine, as the third vertebra had been comminuted and broken, putting pressure on the spinal cord and causing paralysis. I no longer had any sensation, not even in my pelvic area. I no longer feel the need to go to the bathroom, I just set an alarm to deal with it and go to the toilet according to the clock. As I always say, “I no longer feel, and only the clock reminds me of what to do. Thank God.”
After what I have experienced from the loss of my family and house, I have become in no better situation. I suffer from severe insomnia and cannot sleep due to the pain in my legs. I keep screaming and tossing day and night, and the painkillers are hard to get. I take one pill a day, though I am supposed to take two, so I can save the other one for the next day, hoping to be able to sleep.
Amid the ongoing war and unavailability of physiotherapy in Gaza, hopes for recovery are fading away and the closure of crossing deprived me of treatment abroad, trapping me in a nightmare of bitter waiting and clinging to the hope of treatment and be back on my feet again.
