Upstairs in Room 218 was Rahma Idriss, a 16-year-old girl who had just lost both of her legs. It was especially tragic, her family said, because she was not married and now no one would want to be her husband.

Down the hall was her brother Farris, 42, who lost his left leg in the same attack that wounded her. He had a smile on his face and warmly welcomed a visitor, which is normal for Iraqis. Even under the saddest of circumstances, the hospitality they are famous for shines through. He said he had showed up in just his underwear, and had no pillow until a friend gave him one.

“We were brought up in great families,” he said. “This forced us to be generous, and to deal with people in a good way.” He said that even the foreign Islamic State fighters who lived in his neighborhood were “surprised when they saw our traditions.”

Downstairs at the hospital, Mohammed Abdulmunum, 53, stood in a hallway and ticked off his losses that day — four family members killed, his wife wounded and probably paralyzed, his house destroyed — and then turned philosophical.

“I have lost all of my life,” he said. “There is nothing more to be afraid of.”