JERUSALEM — This isn’t really a good-news story. This is a sad story about a special place where Jews and Arabs come together to heal the broken bodies of victims and their attackers, some of them children.
The staff call them “Bert and Ernie” or “Fried and Eid.”
Ahmed Eid, 65, is a Muslim from the Galilee village of Dabburiya. Elchanan Fried, 41, is a Jew from Petah Tikva in central Israel. They both live in West Jerusalem.
Eid wears green scrubs and a scrub cap. Fried wears green scrubs and a knitted kippa, or skullcap. Eid is the head of surgery at Hadassah University Hospital in Mount Scopus. Fried is head of the intensive-care unit. They both keep glancing at the time on their smartphones. They are on call.
For the past month — during a wave of Palestinian attacks on Jews and harsh Israeli responses, including shoot-to-kill countermeasures — the two have worked side by side.
On Oct. 12, two Palestinian cousins, ages 13 and 15, from East Jerusalem stabbed a 13-year-old Jewish kid on his bicycle outside a candy store. They also wounded a 21-year-old Jewish Israeli man.
The 13-year-old victim, whose name is being withheld at his parents’ request, arrived at the hospital in terrible shape.
“No blood pressure. Pulse was 40. Ventilated at the scene,” said Eid, who rushed into surgery and began to work on his patient.
“More dead than alive,” said Fried, who came to assist.
So did a Palestinian anesthesiologist from the West Bank, who worked alongside Muslim, Christian, ultra-Orthodox Jewish and secular doctors and nurses, some from Israel, some from the Jewish settlements, others from Palestinian towns.
When the patient was stabilized, Eid went briefly to the waiting room to speak with the patient’s father.
Eid told him: “Listen, your son is still alive. It’s going to be okay.” Eid noticed the father was a religious Jew.
“I
told him my name is Ahmed Eid, I’m director of surgery. Then I made a
joke, I guess. I said, ‘An Ahmed stabbed your son, and an Ahmed is going
to save your son.’ ”
Both doctors said they never ask whether the patient who comes through the door is a victim or an assailant.
“We don’t ask who you are. We treat the terrorist the same as we treat the victim,” Eid said.
Fried
was asked his opinion. “I rarely agree with Dr. Eid, but in this case, I
concur.” He was making a joke. Both doctors smiled and looked at the
time on their phones again.
Fried described
Hadassah hospital as “a unique bubble.” He said half his staff in the
ICU are Arabs. “Sometimes someone complains, but very, very rarely.”
“We
treat patients by medical priority. Most sick first. To us, this is
obvious. Maybe to the outside world, it is hard to understand,” said
Osnat Levtzion-Korach, the hospital’s director.
At
the same time that Fried and Eid were helping the two victims, a few
miles away at Hadassah University Hospital in the Jerusalem neighborhood
of Ein Kerem, a Jewish doctor treated the Palestinian assailant,
13-year-old Ahmed Manasra.
His 15-year-old
cousin was shot dead at the scene by an Israeli police officer. Ahmed
Manasra was run over by a car as he was fleeing.
Miklosh
Bala, 46, director of the trauma unit, attended. Bala was born in the
Soviet Union and came to Israel years ago, one of a million Russian Jews
to immigrate here.
“The patient arrived
accompanied by the security services, but it was not immediately clear
what had happened. His age was not obvious, although it was clear he was
a child,” Bala recalled.
He does not call Manasra “the terrorist.”
“We
did not have a long conversation with him. We just did what was needed.
He was conscious. We took his vitals and did what we would do for
anyone who arrives in our department. He had a CT scan, a full medical
evaluation, he was checked by a surgeon, an orthopedic doctor,
everybody, it was all standard for someone with his injuries.
“Only
afterwards we heard the details of the incident,” Bala said. “Suddenly
the kid was in the headlines. But when he first arrived, we did not know
what had happened. All we wanted was to see that he was alive, his eyes
were open.”
Minutes after Manasra was
struck by the car, a crowd of onlookers surrounded him, a raw scene
captured on video. As he lay bleeding in the street, an Israeli mob
shouted, “Die!” They cursed him as the “son of a whore” and shouted at
police to finish him off with a bullet to the head.
Bala
recalled that Manasra “did not answer many of our questions. It was
obvious that he was scared. His parents did not come until later, but
our staff took good care of him.”
In a speech in Ramallah this month, Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas
accused Israel of barbarism and said Israeli forces execute in cold
blood children such as Manasra, whom he called a martyr for the
Palestinian cause.
The next day, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu accused Abbas of “lies and incitement”
— and reminded his listeners that Palestinians were stabbing Jews. The
Israeli government released video and photographs of Manasra alive and
well in a bed in the Hadassah hospital — alongside security camera
footage showing Manasra and his cousin with knives in their hands.
Videos
from the scenes of knife attacks and other confrontations at
checkpoints have often shown the Palestinian suspects lying on the
ground, unattended.
Recently, the head of the Magen David Adom ambulance and emergency service caused an outcry when he said his medics will treat attackers first if their injuries are worse.
The
director of the ZAKA emergency response organization, made up of
volunteers who assist medics, said that it was a complex issue but that
“we instruct our volunteers to first take care of all Jews, because they
were harmed just because they are Jews, while the terrorist murderer is
deserving of death,” according to the Arutz Sheva news Web site.
Asked
what it felt like to treat a boy who stabbed a boy, Bala said: “It is
difficult to answer such a personal question. I have a 13-year-old son
at home, and I did not really talk about it with my son. I do not
understand what can make a 13-year-old carry out something like this.
“I
don’t think I can be criticized for saving a life,” Bala said. “It is
holiest of holies. I just don’t understand the question when someone
asks me why I saved the life of an attacker.
“That is my job,” he said.
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