Stepping over broken cinder blocks outside Al-Aqsa Hospital in central Gaza, I witnessed a scene that has become tragically routine in this conflict zone. Canadian emergency physician Dr. Aisha Rahman worked alongside local staff, treating victims from the latest airstrike with severely limited supplies. “We’re rationing everything – antibiotics, anesthesia, even clean water,” she told me as we moved between overcrowded wards where patients lay on floor mats.
The Canadian medical presence in Gaza has evolved dramatically since October 7th. What began as scattered individual efforts has coalesced into a more organized humanitarian response, though one still hampered by border closures, security concerns, and diplomatic complications.
“Getting here took three weeks of paperwork, four flight cancellations, and negotiations at multiple checkpoints,” explained Dr. Rahman, who arrived through the Rafah crossing two months ago with a Canadian aid organization. “Many of my colleagues couldn’t make it through at all.”
According to the World Health Organization, only 16 of Gaza’s 36 hospitals remain partially functional. The destruction has created desperate conditions where medical professionals must improvise constantly. Canadian surgeon Dr. Michael Chen, who returned from Gaza last week, described performing operations by mobile phone flashlight during power outages and reusing surgical equipment that would normally be discarded.
“We were doing damage control surgery – just enough to keep people alive until they could get more comprehensive care,” Dr. Chen said during our video interview. “But comprehensive care rarely comes. The system is completely overwhelmed.”
The Canadian government has pledged $100 million in humanitarian assistance to Gaza since October, including $25 million specifically for emergency medical aid. However, healthcare workers on the ground report significant gaps between promised aid and what actually reaches patients.
Dr. Samira Khalil, a Toronto-based physician coordinating supply deliveries, expressed frustration with the bottlenecks. “We’ve had three shipments of emergency medical supplies sitting in warehouses in Egypt for weeks. The diplomatic channels move too slowly while patients die from preventable complications.”
The Canadian Medical Association has issued multiple statements calling for better protection of healthcare facilities and workers in Gaza, noting that attacks on medical infrastructure constitute violations of international humanitarian law. Their latest report documents 22 Canadian healthcare professionals who have served in Gaza since October, with an estimated 1,500 patients treated directly by Canadian doctors.
Water scarcity has compounded the health crisis. Infectious disease specialist Dr. James Wilson, who returned from Gaza in April, reported treating numerous cases of waterborne illnesses. “Children are dying from dehydration and diarrheal disease – deaths that wouldn’t happen with basic sanitation and clean water access,” he said.
At Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, I watched Canadian nurse practitioner Sarah Leblanc demonstrate water purification techniques to local healthcare workers. The simple system they’ve developed uses solar disinfection and limited filtration materials to produce enough clean water for critical medical procedures.
“We’re teaching sustainability because we know the international presence here is temporary,” Leblanc explained as she filled bottles for sterilization. “The local staff will be carrying this burden long after foreign aid workers leave.”
The psychological toll on both patients and providers remains a significant concern. Dr. Rahman described treating children for physical wounds while observing severe trauma symptoms. “Nearly every child I see exhibits signs of PTSD – nightmares, dissociation, extreme startle responses. We’re bandaging broken bones while their minds are breaking too.”
Canadian mental health professionals have established remote consultation services for Gaza healthcare workers, offering psychological first aid training and support for those experiencing burnout and secondary trauma. These sessions typically occur during the few hours when internet connectivity is available.
Food insecurity has created a parallel health emergency. The UN’s World Food Programme reports that Gaza’s entire population faces crisis levels of food insecurity, with famine conditions emerging in northern areas. Canadian nutritionist Dr. Layla Mahmoud has documented severe malnutrition among children and pregnant women.
“We’re seeing nutritional deficiencies I’ve only read about in textbooks,” Dr. Mahmoud told me via encrypted messaging. “Kwashiorkor, marasmus – conditions that shouldn’t exist when food aid is supposedly being prioritized. Malnourished patients can’t heal from surgeries or fight infections.”
Despite these challenges, Canadian medical professionals continue developing innovative responses. A team from McGill University has created a portable electronic medical record system that functions offline, allowing patient information to be preserved even when hospitals are evacuated or destroyed.
“Data continuity saves lives,” explained Dr. Omar Hassan, who helped design the system. “When patients are transferred between facilities or medical teams rotate, having their history prevents medication errors and unnecessary tests.”
The Canadian presence extends beyond direct clinical care. Several Canadian medical organizations have established training programs for Palestinian healthcare workers, focusing on mass casualty management, trauma surgery with limited resources, and emergency obstetric care.
What remains unclear is the long-term impact of these efforts. Dr. Chen expressed concern about sustainability. “We’re treating injuries and saving lives today, but Gaza needs a functioning healthcare system tomorrow. That requires political solutions, not just humanitarian band-aids.”
As night fell over Gaza City during my final evening there, Dr. Rahman finished her 18-hour shift and led me to the hospital roof. The skyline, once defined by apartment buildings and minarets, now appeared jagged with partially collapsed structures. In the distance, flares illuminated the horizon.
“My Canadian colleagues ask when I’m coming home,” she said quietly. “But how do you leave when you know tomorrow will bring more patients than providers? This isn’t just about medical aid anymore – it’s about bearing witness to a humanitarian catastrophe that shouldn’t be happening.”
