When Najwa Abu Atiwi awoke from a weeks-long coma on October 11, 2024, the first thing that registered to her was the need to see her own face. The physical changes from the Israeli air strike that hit her home in Nuseirat refugee camp had not yet dawned on her. It took time—weeks of confusion and pain—for her to understand the full extent of her transformation. She did not know at first that one of her eyes was lost or that her jaw had been shattered. The moment she finally looked in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back, she was stunned. Her face was a map of fractures and deep wounds, the scars from the explosion still fresh and raw.
It wasn’t until a month had passed that she learned about the second loss: her daughter Hajar, who had been just a few days from her sixth birthday. At that point, Najwa was still sedated in intensive care, drifting between dreams and the reality of being alive. She had asked repeatedly for confirmation that her daughter was safe. But the truth was far worse. She never got to see Hajar one last time, or offer the words that could never be spoken. The emotional trauma has now settled into the same space as her physical pain, making each day a struggle with the past.
A long and uncertain road to recovery
Najwa’s face is now a patchwork of medical interventions. Metal plates and surgical mesh have been inserted to hold together the broken structure of her jaw. These efforts have not fully restored her ability to open her mouth or speak clearly. Her meals are reduced to soups, water, and soft drinks, a stark contrast to the life she once lived. The pain of her injuries is constant, and there is fear that her remaining eye is at risk. Doctors have confirmed that she needs specialized procedures that are currently impossible to perform in Gaza. The reasons, as always, trace back to the war and the blockade.
For years, the Israeli blockade has restricted the flow of medical supplies and equipment into Gaza. Even during temporary pauses in fighting, such as the October ceasefire, the import bans have largely remained in place. While doctors in Gaza are highly skilled and experienced, they often work without the tools and materials they need to perform even basic operations. Patients like Najwa are left in limbo, waiting for the chance to receive treatment beyond the strip. The lack of access to advanced care is not just a personal hardship, but a systemic failure.
Medical challenges in the aftermath of war
Dr. Ayman Saidam, an oculoplastic surgery specialist, has treated numerous cases like Najwa’s since the war began. He says her injuries are among the most severe and complex he has seen. The damage to her face, jaw, and eye sockets was beyond basic repair, requiring a multi-stage reconstruction process. Cosmetic concerns are secondary to these injuries; the first priority is structural restoration. Without this, she cannot even be considered for an artificial eye, a critical step in her recovery.
Saidam notes that while doctors in Gaza do their best to manage the crisis, the lack of basic materials like surgical screws, eye drops, and specialized tools slows down every stage of treatment. The ongoing restrictions on imports continue to shape the reality of medical care in the region. In this environment, the system can only stabilize injuries, not fully heal them. Patients are stuck in waiting rooms, hoping for a chance to escape and find the care they cannot receive at home.
The human cost of conflict
Najwa’s story is not just a personal tragedy. It’s a reflection of the broader crisis in Gaza. Behind the numbers and headlines are individuals who are trying to survive in a system where healing is often conditional and access is controlled. The emotional scars of losing a child run deeper than any surgery can repair. Her situation highlights the invisible costs of war: when hospitals are overwhelmed, families are displaced, and medical care is rationed. Doctors work under impossible conditions, and patients wait for help that may never come.
Each death in Gaza carries with it a personal story like Najwa’s. But beyond the names and statistics, there are people struggling to rebuild their lives in a landscape where survival itself is a daily negotiation. The war has left deep wounds, and the road to recovery for many is still uncertain, shaped by the realities of conflict and the barriers that prevent true healing.