Dr. Ahmad Yousaf: On the first day I was there in a Al-Aqsa Hospital, we were in a small trauma bay in the ER. And when the first mass casualty, which was one of almost one every day I was there, occurred and we could hear the bombs in the distance and we knew that about 45 minutes later, people would come in pieces. That children would be carried in pieces by their loved ones. On donkey carts, and in ambulances, four or five and one ambulance. There was a young woman who got laid up right next to the young boy I was treating. She was 22 or 23 years old, full body surface area burns. And she was unable to speak because she likely had inhalation [issue] because the same burns that burned her skin, likely burned her airway. And a woman screamed from outside the door, “she’s pregnant”. And so we turned her over quickly, because she had come and laid down on her belly, and somebody put an ultrasound probe on her belly and she had a viable 18 to 20 week pregnancy. But when we did our secondary survey and tried to understand what other injuries she had, she had a shattered […] from an explosive injury. She had burns that covered over 70% of her surface area, which is a death sentence in an environment where you can’t find gauze, and there isn’t clean water and there aren’t antibiotics. We all knew what this meant, on the ground, in the trauma bay, first minutes we met her. She was going to die there, and her baby would die there. And there was nothing we were going to be able to do about it, because the Israeli government in the IDF had made it impossible to care for people, to the extent which they deserve. Every human being deserves the right to medical aid in meds situation. She was no fighter. She was a pregnant woman who was sitting in her home when a bomb dropped on her head. And she eventually moved to the ICU. And every day she lived until she died, she was in pain. Because we didn’t have the kind of medicine we needed to care for her pain. […] in America, I’d give her two […] before changing her wound dressings. And there I could give her nothing. And every morning when we’d round, we’d stop by her bed first. And every one of us and the guys and medical professionals who are heroes that one day will get to be here and tell you their stories themselves, so I don’t have to tell it for them. We’d all keep our mouth shut and keep the tears held back because we knew we couldn’t do anything. We knew the inevitable was coming. Until one day I walked in and her bed was empty. And her story is just one of tens of thousands. And her family mourned for her just like we would mourn for our own family members. And she and every single person in Gaza deserves the dignity and support that humanity as a whole is burdened and has an obligation to provide. I stand here and I’ll conclude with this last thought, which is the reason I lose sleep and the reason we cry tears isn’t sadness anymore. It’s a feeling that we have no ability despite being from the most powerful country in the world, providing the bombs that drop on these innocent people that we have no power to stop the bleeding.