The nursing staff at Al Shifa Hospital in Makkah are highly trained, committed, and deeply attentive to their duties. During my gradual recovery as I made my way back from what felt like the “gate of the other world” I began to see the hospital like a disciplined military unit, with nurses functioning like frontline soldiers.
Many of the nurses were young Egyptian professionals, mostly between 23 and 35 years old, energetic and highly responsive in their roles. Among those I grew particularly fond of was Walid Abdel Elah Ahmed, an Egyptian nurse who was always cheerful, hardworking, and reassuring. A young father himself, he often told me, “Mr Gimba, I am with you. Anything you need, just signal me.” In my condition, unable to speak due to a tracheostomy, communication was mainly through gestures or tapping the bed.
The ICU system operated in structured shifts at 8 a.m. and 8 p.m., with each patient assigned a dedicated nurse responsible for all aspects of care — from medication administration to feeding and even hygiene support when needed. It was a demanding job that required both skill and compassion.
Another nurse, Mohammed Alzahrani, would quickly respond whenever I coughed, often asking if I needed suction — a procedure used to clear airways and improve breathing. At times, I even coughed deliberately just to get attention. Others, like Ahmed Abdelrauf Galal, lightened the atmosphere with playful gestures, including shadow boxing, while some remained more reserved but equally professional.
Female nurses played an equally vital role in my recovery. They were especially attentive during oxygen support periods, often advocating on my behalf when I struggled to breathe comfortably. One nurse affectionately known as “Mother” stood out for her maternal care and firmness in ensuring patient comfort.
A young Pakistani nurse, Areej Mushtaq, showed me exceptional kindness, treating me almost like a father figure. I, in turn, grew very fond of her and jokingly considered her part of my extended family. Others, like Ahmed Khatib — who called me “Uncle Hassan” — and Mohammed Ahamed Elmaasy, also formed memorable bonds with me, often bringing light-hearted moments into the ICU environment.
Football banter was common among the staff. While one nurse celebrated Barcelona’s victories with excitement, I quietly supported Real Madrid, though I never revealed it, preferring peace over rivalry in the ward.
Some nurses left lasting impressions in different ways. Reda Mady, who once assisted in preparing me during a critical moment, later became my final contact before discharge, even transporting me to the airport. Ibrahim Shawky once cut my hair, while another nurse earned the nickname “Putin” due to his resemblance to the Russian president.
Despite the professionalism and care, there were minor challenges. The absence of standard uniforms sometimes made it difficult to distinguish roles within the hospital. Additionally, frequent phone usage among some staff occasionally disrupted patient rest, and children moving around the ward sometimes created unnecessary noise.
Nevertheless, the overall experience at Al Shifa Hospital remained deeply positive. The facility provided excellent medical care, combining skill, dedication, and humanity. For all its minor imperfections, it remains one of the best hospitals I have encountered in Makkah.
