By Keith Harrison In Basra

She cradles her beloved son, waves swarming flies away for the hundredth time and weeps with every breath he draws.

Nagim Abdoul Nabiy is dying of a bone disorder

In three days, the newly-married 25-year-old will be dead. Maybe two.

Medical staff at Basra General Hospital will do little but stand and watch, stripped of the medicines and blood supplies that would save his life.

The man is Nagim Abdoul Nabiy, a young Iraqi architect, who has been at the hospital for four months, arriving just weeks after he was married to Ezra.

He lies in a semi-conscious state viewing the stifling Ward 15 through runny bloodshot eyes.

'No medication'

The bed is propped up by makeshift repairs, the temperature approaches 100 degrees by mid afternoon and the tiger-print sheets are already soaked with sweat.

Paint peels off the walls, open windows invite more flies and the floor is littered with dust and debris.

Nagim Abdoul Nabiy is dying of a blood disorder

Nagim is suffering from a bone disease described by doctors, who have long since left for the day, as "chronic".

"There is no medication at all," said ward assistant Ali Haffat.

"We have a blood bank, but no blood.

"Since the war started, we have had no power so he's just getting worse. A specialist came down from Baghdad and diagnosed him. We were keeping him alive with transfusions before, but now there is no blood, no power, no hope.

We were keeping him alive with transfusions before, but now there is no blood, no power, no hope Ward assistant Ali Haffat

"He will last another two or three days. It's very sad, but really, what can we do? We have given him all the analgesic (pain killers) we had, but now ..."

Nagim's father Abdoul Nabiy rose from the bedside where he had clutched his son's hand and reassured him quietly since we arrived.

He wiped away tears, grabbed our interpreter by the arm and told us: "He is my only son. He is a good man, a proud man, an educated man.

"He is a family man with a wife, but not even any children yet. He is too young to die like this."

Built by British

He slumped back into his bedside vigil with a shake of his head and a comforting arm from his weeping wife Bahiya Mathood.

There are only 90 patients in the crumbling 400-bed complex, built by the British in 1921 and known as the Republican Basra Hospital until last week.

The faded images of Saddam Hussein at the main gates survived until the arrival of coalition soldiers who were "presented" with it as a gift from grateful citizens.

An accompanying promise that "the confidence the Iraqi people have in their president will burn the American hopes" can still be read but "only because we can't find any paint" said one bystander, who took out a banknote from his pocket and gleefully spat on the president's grinning image.

Doctors looting?

Inside the main reception, painted murals show children undergoing surgery while soldiers stand guard and Saddam smiles down from a messianic pose.

In the harsh reality of the wards there are still children, but none is getting surgery, there are no guards and few nurses.

We have heard the reports and we will investigate them Lieutenant Colonel John Nash

Many of the doctors only stay a few hours in the mornings, they check to see whether any power supply has been set up, they check on their few remaining patients and then they retire to their private practices, thriving with wartime injuries.

Many of those wounded in fighting and B52 bombing raids over the past three weeks decided they would be better treated at home rather than the hospital.

Even with electricity, there will still be difficulties curing all the ills at Basra General.

'Need everything'

Rumours abound that doctors are stealing medical aid intended for the hospital and charging exorbitant rates to dispense it from their private clinics.

"We have heard the reports and we will investigate them," said Lt Col John Nash, of the Royal Logistic Corps, overseeing a delivery of drinking water to the hospital.

This is the last bottle of medicine in a looted medical centre

"The facilities here can be restored," he said.

"We are making the first steps with medical aid ready to be delivered within the next few days, then aid organisations will take over."

Back in Ward 15, Nagim Nabiy will not survive to see this new era take shape.

His carer, Ali Haffat, shook his head. "We need everything you can give us; water, medicine, food and electricity.

"If we don't get these things soon this will not be a hospital; it will be a morgue."