GAZA, Sept. 4 (Xinhua) -- In the war-ravaged Gaza Strip, hardship extends far beyond the immediate dangers of airstrikes and artillery, reaching into nearly every corner of daily life -- even access to vital medicines for chronic illnesses such as diabetes.
At a displacement camp west of Gaza City, Maher al-Masri, 65, perched on a plastic chair at a medical point, awaiting an insulin allotment. He had already visited four health points in two days, he said, returning empty-handed each time. "Even when I manage to find a dose," he added, "my tent has no refrigerator or electricity. The insulin spoils before I can use it."
For Khaled Othman, 25, who has lived with diabetes since childhood, the shortage nearly proved fatal. He accidentally injected spoiled insulin and was hospitalized within hours.
"The medicine that was supposed to save me ended up making me worse," said Othman, a father of two. "I have to choose between using insulin that may be spoiled or facing a diabetic coma. Both choices could be fatal. I worry every day my children may grow up without me."
The conflict, which began on Oct. 7, 2023, has killed more than 64,000 Palestinians, according to Gaza's health authorities. An Israeli blockade, maintained since the war's outset and intensified after a ceasefire with Hamas collapsed in early March, has severely restricted the flow of essential supplies, including medicine.
Health experts warn that patients with diabetes are among the most vulnerable. "A person with Type 1 diabetes can die within hours if insulin is unavailable," said Mohammed Siam, a diabetologist in Gaza City. He described a desperate reality where patients are forced to ration doses, inject spoiled or expired insulin, or skip treatment altogether. "This is like slow poisoning," he said.
Health authorities estimate that more than 60,000 diabetic patients in Gaza are at immediate risk of coma, kidney failure, or amputation due to broken supply chains and the lack of electricity for refrigeration. Both Palestinian and United Nations officials warn that without swift international action, the death toll from this preventable crisis will continue to climb.
The danger is compounded by a shortage of testing devices, forcing families to guess at insulin levels. "We receive children in a coma after their parents miscalculated the dose," Siam said. "This is collective punishment for thousands of patients who have no role in the conflict."
For families, the fear is constant. Walid Abdel Aal, 42, cares for his 7-year-old son, Ali, who has diabetes, but often cannot find enough food to balance his insulin injections. "When his blood sugar drops, he asks for something sweet, but sometimes all we have is dry bread," he said. "We reduced his insulin from 14 units to just three, hoping to keep him stable."
The Haifa Association for Diabetic Children, which supports about 800 young patients, has seen conditions deteriorate catastrophically. According to its executive director, Awni Shweikh, four children have died this year from complications of insulin shortages and malnutrition. The dilemma is stark: "Children cannot take insulin without food. If they do, they risk hypoglycemia. If they don't, their organs are damaged," he explained.
With hospitals overwhelmed and lacking staff, medicine, and beds, Shweikh said the stakes could not be clearer: "The lives of diabetic children now depend on a piece of candy, an insulin pen, or a test strip -- all of which are missing." ■
