Rafah Crossing Reopens for Medical Evacuations, But Relief Remains a Trickle Amid Gaza's Vast Needs

KHAN YOUNIS, Gaza Strip – The reopening of the Rafah border crossing between Gaza and Egypt this week was heralded as a critical step for critically ill and wounded Palestinians seeking treatment abroad. Yet the initial reality on the ground has been one of severe limitation, with only a handful of patients permitted to leave, underscoring the vast gap between diplomatic announcements and the dire humanitarian situation on the ground.

On Monday, the first day of the highly anticipated reopening, Israeli authorities approved the exit of just five patients via the crossing, each accompanied by two companions. This fell drastically short of prior coordination with the World Health Organization (WHO), which had planned for the evacuation of 50 patients daily. The move leaves an estimated 22,000 Gazans in urgent need of external medical care in a state of continued limbo.

"The announcement brought a moment of collective hope that was quickly extinguished," said Dr. Elias Farah, a public health analyst based in Amman. "Allowing five people out when thousands are suffering from complex war injuries and collapsing healthcare is not a solution; it's a symbolic gesture that fails to address the scale of the catastrophe."

Among the few to depart was 17-year-old Mohammed Abu Mostafa, who suffered a severe eye injury in an Israeli airstrike a year and a half ago. "My son has been suffering immensely... there is no treatment available for him in Gaza," said his mother, Randa, who accompanied him. Her relief was tempered by anguish at having to leave four of her other children behind due to escort restrictions.

The reopening of Rafah—Gaza's only land crossing not directly controlled by Israel—has been framed as part of a U.S.-backed ceasefire deal. However, the process remains tightly controlled by Israeli security protocols. Daily passenger lists must be submitted for Israeli approval, and the European Union mission at the crossing is limited to monitoring and identity verification.

Ibrahim Abu Thuraya, another of the five evacuees, who lost his left hand and has shrapnel embedded near his eye, expressed the desperation of many: "I have suffered greatly for two full years just to be able to leave for treatment, and there are thousands of wounded like me."

The limited evacuations stand in stark contrast to the overwhelming need. Ismail al-Thawabta of Gaza's Government Media Office noted that alongside the thousands needing medical evacuation, approximately 80,000 Palestinians who left Gaza during the war are also waiting to return.

"This isn't about logistics; it's a deliberate policy of obstruction," said Sarah Chen, a rights advocate with the International Crisis Group, her tone sharp with frustration. "Every day of delay means more preventable deaths and permanent disabilities. Calling this a 'reopening' is a cruel misrepresentation when the gate is barely ajar."

In the courtyard of the Red Crescent Hospital in Khan Younis, dozens of hopeful patients and families gathered, only to be turned away. "We arrived at dawn, believing today might be the day," said one man whose brother requires cancer treatment unavailable in Gaza. "Now we just wait again, with no date, no promise."

While a separate group of patients was transferred to Israel via the Kerem Abu Salem crossing on the same day, the Rafah operation's minimal scale has drawn criticism from health officials. Mohammad Abu Salmiya, director of Gaza's al-Shifa Medical Complex, confirmed the single, small group departed despite the WHO's broader plan.

Professor Annette Schmidt, a humanitarian law expert at the University of Geneva, offered a more measured perspective: "While the initial numbers are disheartening, establishing any functional corridor is a complex first step. The critical test will be whether this trickle can rapidly scale into a sustained and meaningful outflow, as mandated by international humanitarian law."

For now, the reopening offers a fragile lifeline to a select few, while the vast majority continue to wait, their health deteriorating in a besieged territory where the healthcare system has been decimated by nearly two years of conflict.