‘When Medicine Runs Out’: The Silent Suffering of Gaza’s Sick and Wounded
By Shaimaa Eid
Marwa, and so many others like her, are waiting—for justice, for freedom, for the genocidal war to end, and for life to return to how it should be.
My sister, Marwa Eid, is 28 years old. Like me, she has been forcibly displaced twice since October 13, 2023, when we first had to leave our home in northern Gaza to escape the devastating Israeli war.
During our displacement, Marwa began to suffer from a painful health condition that turned her life into a nightmare. Her hands, once a tool for creativity and hard work, have now become a source of constant pain and suffering.
Marwa suffers from severe eczema on her hands, caused by a combination of harsh and inhumane conditions that have come together. She is forced to use locally made detergents because Israel does not allow proper cleaning materials to enter the Gaza Strip.
Marwa suffers from malnutrition due to the scarcity of food and the reliance on canned goods filled with preservatives. She has no access to the medicines she needs because of the siege and the ongoing war.
On May 12, 2024, Marwa’s story took a difficult turn. That day, she noticed a slight change in her hands. Small red spots appeared on her skin, accompanied by constant itching. At first, she thought it was a mild allergy that would pass. She had no idea that what had appeared on her skin would soon become a long and painful battle.
With no access to safe products, Marwa had to rely on homemade detergents that are not regulated in their manufacture. These products are often produced in unsafe conditions and contain harmful chemicals. She had no other option, but the effect on her skin was immediate and severe. Her hands began to crack and bleed profusely.
As her pain worsened, I took her to a medical point inside one of the displacement camps, set up by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) for displaced people.
When Marwa showed her hand to the doctor there, he was visibly shocked by the severity of her condition. He looked at her with sadness and said, “This is severe eczema. I apologize—I don’t have any medicine in the warehouse at this time due to the closure of the crossings. I can only give you a strip of painkillers. It might ease the pain a little, but it’s not the treatment you need.”
Marwa left the clinic with her heart heavy, drowning in sadness and pain. Still hoping for relief, she tried to visit a few private pharmacies, some of which still had limited stock from before the war. In one pharmacy, she asked about the medicine the doctor had recommended. The pharmacist told her it was available, but it was too expensive, far beyond her financial means.
As time passed, the impact of her illness extended beyond the physical. Marwa now suffers psychologically, as she can no longer help with the daily chores. She has always been hardworking and loving, always ready to support others. She used to help our mother light the clay oven we use to prepare bread and food, especially important due to the ongoing gas crisis caused by the war.
On April 10, 2025, the Ministry of Health in Gaza confirmed in a public statement that the shortage of medicines and medical supplies had reached dangerous and unprecedented levels. It stated that 37 percent of the essential medicines list was now at zero stock.
It also reported that 59 percent of medical supplies were unavailable. The Ministry warned that operating rooms, intensive care units, and emergency departments across Gaza’s hospitals were functioning with severely depleted stocks of life-saving medicines and supplies.
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Marwa is not alone. She is just one among many in the Gaza Strip who are suffering due to the lack of medicine and access to treatment. But her case is a living example of what people here endure every day. It reflects how a prolonged Israeli assault can turn a simple, treatable condition into a chronic and debilitating one.
Every night, I watch my sister struggle to sleep, fighting through her pain. And I keep asking myself: What crime have we committed to live this painful reality? Why should Marwa suffer like this, simply because she was born in Gaza?
This story is not the end. It is the beginning of a cry for help from besieged Gaza. Marwa, and so many others like her, are waiting—for justice, for freedom, for the genocidal war to end, and for life to return to how it should be.
(The Palestine Chronicle)
– Shaimaa Eid is a Gaza-based writer. She contributed this article to the Palestine Chronicle.