By Kinjal Pandita
Cries of tormented and distressed souls echoed endlessly through the corridors with each cry of a young child louder and more bone-chilling than the last. Chaos. Doctors with dishevelled hair, blood splattered scrubs, and red tearing eyes fumbled with the wounded, desperately trying to save another innocent life from ending. People sat huddled in groups, shivering, not out of cold but of fear as another horrific blast shook the ground beneath them.
In one corner of the room stood a now orphaned child as it wailed in terror and sorrow, the tears from his eyes smudging with the soot and fine debris on his face. In another lay a pregnant woman, both hands helplessly covering her swollen belly as she hushed reassuring words to her unborn child.She whispered a lullaby, promising him a world of beauty and peace for when he’d be born. Amongst the sobbing and screams, a young nurse hurried through the growing crowd of bodies towards a man whose once striking blue eyes had turned a bloodshot red and poured cold water onto his face with trembling hands. Her skin which was once smooth caramel brown was now covered in a sheen of sweat as dust and sand clung to it. Her muscles screamed for a break but she fought the urge to collapse to the ground and instead inhaled deeply, faced the man, and continued to wash out the chemicals from his eyes.
Another blast engulfed the city, sending plumes of smoke hundreds of feet into the air and another building groaned in despair as it tumbled to the ground, the debris flying off into multiple directions. The nurses and doctors paused momentarily and lifted their hands from the being they were treating and stared through the shattered glass windows, watching the dust settle to reveal the tormenting sight of bodies, bricks, wood, and steel reinforcements splain across the ground. Fear stricken and completely drained of all energy, they dragged on, meticulously wrapping bandages around deep, infected wounds as they wiped the sweat from their brows.
The staff in the hospital work tirelessly, day in and day out, to get the wounded healed and dispose honourably of the dead. If this is what life in one such hospital is, imagine the state of many others. Field hospitals throughout Syria, Lebanon, Afghanistan, and many more countries are dealing with devastating cases that are the result of such horrific war crimes, putting their own life at stake to save that of another.
