With volunteers, capital city's hospital treats rebels and loyalists alike.
TRIPOLI, Libya — A frantic young man ran through the hospital doors with a small girl in his arms, her head drenched in blood. Moments later a car screeched to a halt. A screaming woman was loaded onto a stretcher as a man with multiple bullet wounds was carried in by friends.
Inside the emergency ward, a stretcher carrying a man shot in the head by a sniper burst into the corridor and collided with the bed of a young rebel fighter shot in the leg. The young man moaned in pain.
Armed men, many still teenagers stood guard over the frenetic scene with AK-47 rifles.
Despite the seemingly chaotic rush in Tripoli Central Hospital, Dr. Faisal Jriwat, an orthopedic surgeon who has worked at the hospital for 10 years, explained that the 120 new patients who arrived Tuesday were a far cry from the thousands of patients streaming into the hospital on Aug. 20.
"Today is our first quiet day since the fighting began almost two weeks ago," said Jriwat, as he attended to patients amid the commotion. "There are still a few snipers operating in the city and we have received some patients from the outer city areas, but things have begun to settle down."
“Women brought in cooking equipment. Others brought water, clothes. The volunteers revived this hospital.”~Dr Faisal Jriwat of Tripoli Central Hospital
No one, not even the rebel forces themselves, had expected to penetrate the capital so quickly. The sudden insecurity in Tripoli’s streets, mixed with severe fuel shortages had prevented all but a handful of doctors from reaching the hospital. As rebel troops entered the capital, a deluge of casualties descended on the facility that soon came under heavy fire. Around 10 doctors and three nurses were left to cope with this gush of patients.
"Bodies were everywhere. In hospital beds, in corridors next to the living," said Jriwat, describing the scene here less than a week ago. “There was no one to clean. Blood covered the floors. The smell from the dead and dying was choking."
Jriwat described the situation as a "total collapse."
With limited staff, doctors had time only for emergency first aid and lifesaving surgeries. They worked around the clock just to save what lives they could. There was no time for cleaning or attending to patients. With no food or water, patients were left to fend for themselves. There was no staff to keep hospital records but general surgeon Dr. Essam Ben Masaud said there were no less than 500 injured arriving per day, along with 20 to 25 dead. A further 15 to 20 patients died each day during these early stages, he said, but no one had time to move the bodies.
Under the regime of Col. Muammar Gaddafi, hospital facilities in Tripoli, a city of 2 million, had always been poor, said Jriwat, describing the conditions throughout his 10 years as an orthopedic surgeon as "below basic." Shortages were frequent. Equipment was worn-out and outdated.
Shortly after the crisis began, hospital supplies ran out completely. After three days of total chaos, an urgent plea for volunteers was aired on local television. The response was overwhelming.
"We couldn’t believe the activity here," Jriwat said. "Volunteers cleaned up everything. Women brought in cooking equipment and began preparing meals. Others brought water, clothes; private clinics brought in medical supplies. The volunteers revived this hospital."
Mechanical engineer Khalifar Rashad was one of dozens of volunteers who answered the call.
“I saw the miserable situation here,” he said. “It looked like the kitchen of a busy fast food takeaway restaurant at the end of the night. I’m not a doctor but I thought, ‘Well, I can help.’”
Jriwat said volunteers like Rashad, coming from a range of non-medical fields, are still covering around 60 percent of the work at Central Hospital, from cleaning and administration to basic patient care. Medical students, Libyan nationals living abroad and doctors from neighboring countries that arrived through the French medical aid group Doctors Without Borders have also helped to stabilize the situation, he said.
During the early stages of the conflict, the area surrounding the hospital saw heavy fighting. Gaddafi troops used the hospital for shelter, Jriwat said, as they knew rebels would not fire into the building. The atmosphere was dismal and terrifying. That changed when the rebels advanced. They secured the hospital and brought in what supplies they could, Jriwat said.
“Although conditions remained abysmal, psychologically everyone was free,” he recalled.
Jriwat said some openly pro-Gaddafi staff and patients have remained in the hospital, including injured fighters.
“Why would they leave?” he asked. “If they were forced out, where is the change? It would be like the flip side of the same coin. Now everyone is free to believe what they want, even if they still believe in Gaddafi.”
Gaddafi soldiers in one ward agreed saying they had been treated well.
“I fought because I believed Gaddafi was a great man,” said Ali Al Hadi, 26, who was injured four days ago fighting in the streets of Tripoli. “But when all the people of Libya said they did not want him, he should have stepped down. When I become well, I will fight with the rebels.”
Not all patients remained. Nurses say some high-profile patients fled as the rebels moved in including a personal bodyguard of Gaddafi’s son Saif al-Islam who fled despite serious injuries just a few days ago.
In the neighboring suburb of Abu Salim, staff and patients were forced to flee as the area saw some of the heaviest fighting within the capital. When the area was finally liberated a grisly scene was discovered as dozens of decomposing bodies still lay in the corridors and on hospital beds.
The Jarood sisters were being treated in Abu Salim when the fighting started after their home was destroyed by NATO bombing that killed the rest of their family in Zlinten. Local families evacuated them from the hospital, caring for them within their homes until they could be transferred to Central Hospital.
The three sisters described the scene as terrifying and chaotic, but 18-year-old Mariam said her trust in God kept her strong. As she spoke, a group of doctors entered the room to discuss the possible need to amputate her shattered left leg. Throughout the ordeal, she had been unable to receive adequate treatment.
Tripoli’s hospitals and private clinics are still facing some difficulties. Water and electricity supplies remain sketchy. Oxygen and high-end medical equipment are in short supply, but the situation is improving.
Despite being incredibly overworked and unpaid for the past six months, Jriwat was in high spirits.
“It’s been tough," he said, "but the city survived. People are happy. Our freedom was not expensive.”
http://www.globalpost.com/dispatch/news/regions/middle-east/110831/libya-tripoli-hospital-rebels-muammar-gaddafi
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