Lindsey Smith said she was watching Fourth of July fireworks with her parents when they made a last-ditch plea for her not to go to Mosul.

But the 35-year-old Minneapolis nurse practitioner said watching a display so symbolic of American freedom reaffirmed her decision to help refugees of Syria's bloody war with the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS). She plans to spend 10 days volunteering at a refugee camp 10 miles away from an ISIS-controlled area and at a separate trauma center just a mile away from an area ISIS holds in northern Iraq.

Refugees fleeing from the fighting need help, Smith said. "If that was my family, I would hope that the world would care."

Smith plans to leave Monday for Mosul. She will work alongside other medical personnel providing emergency and general medical care to those in need. Last year, she went to Greece to help refugees just weeks after Macedonia closed its border to prevent them from traveling west in a desperate effort to reach the relative safety of Europe.

Smith said she saw some refugees die — some by electrocution near railroad tracks, another who was run over by a police van — and witnessed police crackdowns that included volleys of rubber bullets and tear gas. When she got home she couldn't sleep and became depressed. She said she experienced reverse culture shock seeing how life moves on in the U.S. while others fight for their lives.

"That's when I really struggle because now I've watched those people, and I know what's still happening there," Smith said.

She said she expects Mosul to be even more traumatic than her time in Greece. Rather than seeing refugees far removed from the battle zone, her patients in Iraq will have just escaped intense violence. She's preparing for her trip by working with emergency room doctors and paramedic teams through Minnesota's chapter of the Syrian American Medical Society, of which she is president.

And for mental preparation?

"Spa music and candles," Smith said, adding that she's leaning on her family and friends for encouragement.

"They support me because they know this is my passion," Smith said, "but they're not happy."

Smith said about one-third of Iraq's population has been internally displaced since October, spread out among 13 U.N. refugee camps. The camp where she's headed holds about 100,000 people with 10 to 15 volunteers working at a hospital consisting of 45 beds inside trailers.

The trauma stabilization point is about a mile from an ISIS-controlled area. It consists of gurneys in an abandoned garage and has one doctor, two nurses and two paramedics who are overwhelmed with the number of patients they're seeing, Smith said.

The Iraqi government recently took back parts of Mosul, but a recent report from Al Jazeera, citing United Nations data, said up to 20,000 people may still be trapped in the city's remaining ISIS-held areas.

Smith said it's more dangerous there than it was two weeks ago because members of ISIS are blending with the population. There are more ISIS sleeper cells, car bombings and suicide bombers — and ISIS fighters are "executing people on the spot" and shooting anyone who tries to leave — all while residents are resorting to eating cats and grass to survive, she said.

Smith said she worries that ISIS will target the refugee camp as it grows. She said the crisis is so large that she sometimes feels overwhelmed and wonders if she's making a difference. She takes consolation in what a refugee once told her: As long as she helps one person, that makes a world of difference.

"I just try to focus on working one-on-one with each person and giving them a voice and making them feel heard and advocating for them," Smith said. "It's rewarding. It's also addicting and difficult."

Sarah Jarvis • 612-673-4689

Twitter: @jarahsarvis