Responding to the injured in Jerusalem: “The patients kept on coming like waves”

Suddenly, the girl with the rubber bullet injury fell on the floor having lost consciousness. Her vital signs were normal, yet she was shaking like a leaf. She was having an anxiety attack. Otero gave her medications to calm her. I thought about how horrible her experience must have been and how long the memories of the day’s violence would stay with her.

We saw another patient who was burned in the face by a stun grenade. This weapon is designed to produce a blind flash of light but when fired too closely can cause a terrible burn. Two more children arrived. One with a big cut on the head. He was hit. Andrea took care of him, while Otero and I examined the other child with a wound very close to his right eye. He could not remember how he was injured. We suspected a fracture of the cheekbone and transferred him to the reference hospital.

At around 10am we received an update from PRCS: the total number of injured people had reached 150. At least five were in critical condition and had been taken to an operating theatre to repair extensive damage to their faces after being shot by rubber bullets. These bullets, which often have a metal core, can disable, disfigure and even kill.

The patients kept on coming like waves. We tried to stabilise them as quickly as possible to empty the beds for new arrivals. Sometimes it seemed like the ambulances had stopped arriving, then suddenly two or three would come at once. It was the incredible experience of the PRCS paramedics, nurses and drivers in responding to such emergencies that made this intervention possible. 

By 11:30am, the flow of patients had finally reduced. All injured people had been taken care of and it was time to have a break. Andrea, Otero and I decided to go for a coffee close to the field hospital on the Mount of Olives. On the way, an incredible image appeared in front of our eyes: a wonderful view of Jerusalem. We stood there and wondered how a place so magnificent could present the scenes of violence we witnessed just a few hours ago. No matter how many trauma patients you see or war zones you work in, every time you treat a person who has been violently harmed by another human being, it is impossible not to feel a deep pain in the soul. The Roman proverb from Plautus, two thousand years ago, was right: “Homo homini lupus” - man is a wolf to man.