The hospital has seen three close attacks recently, including one which landed outside the emergency department, blocking its entrance and injuring casualties who had just been tended to by ER staff.
“They were injured twice,” says one doctor. “Once from bombs on their home, and then this as they were about to leave.”
The medics believe the nearby attacks are intended to scare them to leave or abandon the hospital.
Dr Abdul Nasser, who is a general surgeon at the hospital (which we are not naming for safety reasons), tells us how he fears the attacks, which are coming ever closer, are a deliberate tactic.
“As soon as the doctors leave then no one will stay in my city,” Dr Nasser says. “And once people leave, it is very difficult to come back.”
He goes on to urge his medical staff to stay in position and keep on working. “Soldiers can’t leave the battle… so likewise doctors, nurses, must stay in the hospitals. I don’t want anyone to leave. We must stay.”
Dr Nasser is a veteran of three previous wars. He tells us: “This is the worst and it will go on for a long time.”
He goes on: “I never left before. I never left the hospital in the previous wars.”
“Yes, I’m scared,” he admits. “But I try to be positive and carry on with my life and just do what I have to do.”
The hospital has taken in about 1,500 war wounded in the past fortnight.
They are no longer operating as they did pre-war but are one of the key emergency centres for casualties, some of whom are evacuated from the frontlines right up against the border.
A family of five are the latest to be brought in from the border village of Alma al Chaab. The youngest, nine-year-old Mariam, is writhing in pain when we arrive with Dr Nasser to see her.
She was sitting with her mother and siblings when a rocket hit the house.
“Everything just fell on me,” she says. Her left leg is bandaged up to the hip.
“She has a double fracture and it’s pinned,” Dr Nasser tells us. “Her arm is broken and she has several wounds.”
Her elder brother is standing nearby. He’s still in his blood-stained clothes – dusty and spattered with large stains of blood.
He is 19 and still reeling from what’s happened. “It’s a big shock. Nothing like this has ever happened to us before,” he says.
The casualties that are most overwhelming to deal with are women and children, the medics tell us.
“It is hard to cope with children’s pain,” says Dr Taoube. “Very, very hard. I hope you never see this. I hope other doctors never have to deal with this. It is very hard.”
Dr Hussam Telleih adds: “We don’t feel safe, the patients don’t feel safe… they [the Israelis] are saying there’s rockets or bombs in or around the hospital from Hezbollah but this isn’t true… we deny all these things.”
Many of the cities and communities in the southern area have emptied out – with the Lebanese government estimating about a million people are on the move and out of their homes – the largest displacement in the country’s history.
But there are still many civilians who can’t or won’t leave their homes.
“Why should I leave?” says Mohammad Halawi. “It’s kind of like collective punishment. They claim they target specific people but they’re killing everyone.”
His neighbour was a Hezbollah supporter but he knew very little else about him. He and his family of eight, including children, were all killed in the attack. More than a dozen other homes have been destroyed.
His nephew’s young wife Anwar died – leaving behind two toddlers. Her husband was at work, so he survived. Several other members of the family have been left injured.
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Mother killed and house destroyed in Lebanon
The war wounded in the hospital are stabilised as quickly as possible and emergency surgery is carried out if needed.
But patients are then evacuated to other areas considered to be relatively safer, like Beirut.
Finding a safe location in Lebanon is becoming increasingly challenging, though.
“They don’t have hearts, or morals or any humanity,” another injured man in the hospital tells us, his head bound with a bandage.
“If they were hitting military targets, we’d just keep quiet,” said Oussama Najdi who came from Deir Kanoun. “But they hit our house – and we don’t even have one small gun between us.”
Alex Crawford reports from southern Lebanon with cameraman Jake Britton, specialist producer Chris Cunningham and Lebanon producers Jihad Jneid and Sami Zein.