A mi papá le diagnosticaron metástasis en el hígado a mediados de enero, al otro día fuimos a la @IsapreConsalud y lo pasaron al Seguro Catastrófico. A los 3 días me llamaron para decirme que me iban a mandar con un prestador. A los 3 días ese prestador me llama para decirme...
🚨BREAKING: A 12 year old child, Ahmed Al-Raqab, was killed and several others mostly children were injured after an Israeli drone strike targeted the Al-Ard Al-Tayyiba area in Al-Mawasi, Khan Younis, southern Gaza Strip.
There are wounds that belong to the body. There are wounds that belong to war.
And there are wounds so deep that neither flesh nor medicine can fully explain them.
One afternoon, a mother entered the clinic carrying her child in her arms.
She did not look different from any other mother. She held him with the same careful tenderness, the same instinctive protection with which women have carried their children through every century of human suffering.
I asked what had brought her to us. “Diarrhea,” she answered.
It was an ordinary complaint in an extraordinary place.
But as I leaned closer, I noticed dark patches scattered across the child’s face. I pointed toward them.
Before I could speak, the mother interrupted softly. “That is not the worst of it.”
Then she turned him over.
What I saw upon his back seemed less like a disease than a sentence.
A vast dark lesion spread across his small body as though some invisible hand had written its sorrow upon his skin. The same marks had already reached one of his hands. Quietly, patiently, they continued their advance.
“What is it?” I asked.
The mother shook her head. “We do not know.”
Had she visited a specialist? Once.
She had been given a cream and sent away with the terrible gift of uncertainty.
Then I asked the question that revealed the true illness.
Why had she never sought another opinion?
The answer did not come immediately. Some silences require courage.
When she finally spoke, it was not medicine that stood accused.
It was humanity.
Her husband refused to take the child outside. He was ashamed. Ashamed of his own son. Ashamed of the gaze of strangers. Ashamed of questions. Ashamed of whispers.
He blamed his wife for the child’s condition, as though suffering were inherited from guilt and disease were evidence of a crime.
Sometimes he would not even leave the house himself, fearing that others might see the child and, through the child, judge him.
At that moment the lesion upon the boy’s skin became the smallest tragedy in the room.
For there is something more terrible than a disease. It is abandonment.
There is something more painful than physical suffering. It is teaching a child that he must hide.
The world has always possessed a cruel habit. It sees what is unusual before it sees what is human.
It notices the scar before the smile, the deformity before the soul, the wound before the child.
And little by little, those who are stared at begin to disappear, not from life, but from sight.
They are kept indoors. Kept silent.
As I looked at the boy, I found myself wondering how many battles he had already inherited.
A battle against disease. A battle against war. A battle against poverty.
And now, a battle against shame.
He had chosen none of them. No child chooses the burdens laid upon his shoulders.
Yet there he sat, carrying them all.
Small enough to fit in his mother’s arms. Heavy enough to carry the failures of an entire society.
Perhaps the saddest part was not what covered his body.
Perhaps the saddest part was the possibility that his family had suffered alone for so long that they had begun to mistake despair for destiny.
War does more than destroy buildings and hospitals. It destroys the systems that guide people toward hope.
It leaves families alone with terrifying questions and no one to answer them. Alone with shame where there should be support. Alone with fear where there should be treatment.
And after enough years of carrying that burden alone, people begin to believe that nothing will ever change.
That there will never be a diagnosis. Never be a treatment.
Never be a future different from the one they see today.
#WoundedGaza
Heredero de ENTEL es el irresponsable que conducía a casi 300 Kms. /Hora por Vitacura poniendo en grave riesgo a cientos de conductores. La familia pidió que no se divulgue que se llama José Izquierdo Reyes o fotos de él pero salio en TV
Rafif’s family needs only 400 people to donate £50 each. It may seem like a small amount, but it could be the step that saves Rafif and her family from this war and gives them a chance to reach safety.
If you are unable to donate, please share this post. It may reach someone who can help.
For the past year, Rafif’s page has not been dedicated only to our family. It has also been a voice for many other families in need. On several occasions, I even asked people to pause donations to our campaign so that other struggling families could receive support. If you look back through our posts, you will find many campaigns we have worked hard to share and support.
If you care about Rafif and want to see her grow up in a safe place, away from fear and war, please help in any way you can—through your prayers, by sharing this post, or by donating if you are able. Every act of kindness brings us one step closer to safety. ❤️
https://t.co/c3B8SzD8KG
En la página 16 del informe de la ONU se cuenta el caso de un bebé palestino de 10 días al cual un francotirador israelí le disparó en plena luz del día mientras era amamantado.
Ninguna vida alcanza para el repudio y 0–d10 que Israel merece
दज्जाली ज़ालिमों का आतंक, बम मिज़ाइल के धमाकों की आवाज़ से फ़लिस्तीनी बच्चों की मानसिक स्थिति ख़राब होकर मौत के मुँह में जा रहे हैं, यही हाल लगभग हज़ारों मासूमों का चल रहा है,
दुनिया के सभी देश आर्थिक स्थित में से दो चार हो रहे हैं, आगे चलकर पूरी दुनिया में आपात काल लगने का इशारा आ रहा है, लेकिन कारण की तरफ़ लोगों का ध्यान नहीं है
UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry issues a report stating Israel is systematically targeting Palestinian children
It details this as genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity committed in Gaza and the West Bank since October 2023.
I hold my daughter in my arms, but I cannot protect her from the war. 💔
Every share, every donation, and every kind word brings Rafif one step closer to safety. 🙏
If you can’t donate, please share our story. It could reach someone who can change her future. ❤️
https://t.co/c3B8SzD8KG
A 4-year old girl.
A 14-year old girl.
A 51-year old mother of six.
Al Jazeera photojournalist Ahmed Samir Wishah.
8-year old girl Julia al-Balawi
… are among the more than 15 people Israel murdered in Gaza this weekend.