It was a Saturday morning during Simchat Torah when I woke up to the sounds of sirens. At first, I thought it was a mistake, but when the third alarm went off, I knew something was wrong. I quickly headed to Soroka and soon realized that it was an unusual event, although I had no idea how serious it actually was.
We start prepping the transfer of new mothers to a protected location, but soon enough, we get called to the trauma room: Jane Doe with an advanced pregnancy, with shrapnel penetration - or so we thought. The patient was admitted, and while assessing hemodynamic stability, we did an ultrasound, which showed that the fetus at this stage is vital, with a pulse and an average amount of amniotic fluid. We decided to skip imaging and run to the operating room.
At the beginning of the operation, we immediately identified an entrance hole in the body of the uterus. We extracted the fetus straight to the care of the Neonatal team. It turns out that a bullet penetrated directly into the uterus, and unfortunately, the fetus was hurt.
The nonatal team identifies an entry and exit wound in her lower abdomen, and she is operated on by the pediatric surgery team. We finish operating on the mom and move her to recovery. Only then do we begin to understand the magnitude of the disaster.
The entrance to the Emergency Department and trauma room is crowded with wounded soldiers and civilians. The staff members provide exemplary treatment to all the patients. The sight is unbelievable: the injuries, the smell of blood in the air.
We meet the mother's husband, and he says that she was hit by a direct shot to the stomach. A candid shot to the stomach of a woman in advanced pregnancy: a moral code we didn't know. The baby came out of the operating room. But a few hours later, she is unstable again, and the labor team is fighting for her life. Unfortunately, we are informed that the baby did not survive the event.
Dozens of messages from friends flood me, pleading for help finding missing relatives as more casualties arrive at the Emergency Department. And then, a call from home telling me my oldest son was drafted back to the reserve army and my youngest, who was called back from his weekend off from the military, calling me to help him find his friend from the army who was shot at Nachal Oz. I found him on the list; he had a gunshot wound to his leg and many shrapnel injuries. He was in great pain even after receiving morphine, But you can't miss his parents' relief when they met him – He got off relatively easily.
There is someone nearby who is yelling in pain. He has a large tattoo of the peace symbol on his chest. The orthopedic surgeon recommends leg amputation surgery preparation. The chasm between the sign of peace and severe injury is unimaginable.
At that point, I had already grasped the enormity of the disaster. The hospital never ceases to amaze me. From our interns who willingly offer to help even after their shifts, to the senior doctors who allow the interns to leave for their homes and families, to the dedicated staff who work tirelessly, to the nurses who soothe the anxious mothers every rime an alarm goes off, and to the messages from doctors in the community and other hospitals who are always willing to lend a hand. And especially from people who have just come together. And I believe everything will be okay.
Prof. Eyal Sheiner, Saban Birth and Maternity Center, Division chairman
