But in one moment, that childhood turned into a battle for survival… the day I fell from the third floor, a fall that almost ended my life before it even began.
The details of that day are still etched in my memory as if it happened yesterday. I fell hard, and my small body suffered fractures and serious injuries that baffled the doctors from the very first moment. I was rushed to the hospital in critical condition, and my condition deteriorated rapidly, requiring admission to the intensive care unit with no guarantee that I would survive. I remained there for over two months, between ventilators and medical monitoring, surrounded by the prayers of my family and the compassionate prayers of everyone who knew of my situation.
My mother spent her nights sitting by my side, holding my small hand and waiting for me to open my eyes. The doctors did everything they could to save my life. Thanks be to God, and thanks to the prayers of everyone who showed me mercy, I survived… I was given a new life, but it was not without pain.
After my discharge from the hospital, a long series of reconstructive surgeries began in an attempt to repair the damage to my body. I underwent multiple operations in stages, each one a medical, physical, and psychological challenge. I was a child, but I learned early on the meaning of patience, and what it means to wake up from anesthesia to find new pain, but also a small glimmer of hope that keeps you going.
As the years passed, the effects of the accident continued to haunt me. It became clear that my body still needed additional surgeries to enable me to live a normal life, or at least a life with less pain. But the living conditions in Gaza were always an obstacle to completing my treatment. The health situation is deteriorating, surgical options are limited, and the waiting list is long… Then the latest war on Gaza came and made everything worse.
As the aggression intensified, hospitals stopped performing many surgeries; some were destroyed, equipment ran out, and wards were overflowing with wounded. The idea of having the surgeries I needed inside Gaza became almost impossible. The pain increased, my old injury worsened, and I saw my chances of recovery dwindle more and more.
I found myself forced to make a difficult decision: to leave the Gaza Strip, despite the harsh conditions and the profound loss of my home and beloved place, just to reach a hospital where I could undergo the necessary surgeries. I left with great hope of receiving treatment, but I know full well that the journey is not easy... and that I cannot travel it alone.
Today, I appeal to you sincerely and with a heart full of hope. I appeal to everyone who can help, everyone who believes that human life deserves a chance. Your support is not just financial or logistical assistance... your support is the hope that will bring me back to a normal life, the strength that will alleviate the pain that has accompanied me since childhood.
Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a real difference in my treatment journey. I am not asking for anything extravagant, only that you help me complete what I started years ago... give me the chance to live without pain, and to reclaim the part of my life that was put on hold since that incident.
