“The Man from Egypt”: Why I left the comfort of the operating room to work in conflict zones

But the hardest moments came during mass casualty incidents. I will never forget what happened in Maiduguri, Nigeria, when around ninety injured were brought to our hospital after an explosion. Buses and trucks arrived filled with wounded men, women, and children, crying for their lost loved ones. Blood covered the ground, the air was filled with screams, and limbs dangled from torn bodies. For a moment, I froze in place. I thought, "The world is so cruel." But there was no time to collapse.

With my team, we began the triage process: do the best for the most. This meant making the impossible decision: who can be saved and who cannot. No training prepares you for such a moment. Just as we felt we had gained some control over the chaos, another truck would arrive, loaded with new casualties. For a moment, I felt a desire to be back on the plane that had brought me there the first time. But a colleague placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "We are in this together." Those words were enough to bring life back into me.

These stories rarely make headlines. In newspapers, the news ends with a sentence: "The injured were transferred to the hospital." But for us, that is just the beginning. The injured need not only surgery but also food, water, antibiotics, dressings, physical therapy, psychological support, and most importantly, dignity. Every victim is more than just a number. Each one carries a long story of recovery, often filled with suffering, hope, and resilience.