Jerusalem Publications, 267 pages
"When you care enough to give the very best." That, if I
recall, was the Hallmark logo in my time; it may still be the
motto for the classy, classic greeting card company that was
the hallmark of the field. Since the fifties, when spending
twenty-five cents on a beautiful card with a heartwarming
message inside (that rhymed) really meant you "cared," that
verb has taken on a much broader meaning.
"Caring" in today's lexicon has expanded to include care-
giving, caretakers, etc. Even "caring" as a verb is loaded
with much more meaning behind it. Today's "caring" is a
comprehensive sign of our changing times.
Since those decades ago, the life span (and the birthrate up
to the late forties) has gone up considerably, and middle-
aged people find themselves sandwiched between raising their
own children at one end, and caring for elderly parents, and
even grandparents, at the other. And so, our society has
become focused on caring, be it in the most superficial or
the most intense, day-night capacity. And as Jews, this
aspect of life is truly relevant on an everyday basis,
considering the variety and number of people, young and old,
with which we are in constant contact.
Caring is not a book to read through, just as
(lehavdil x 1000) one would not read through a
Kitzur Shulchan Oruch just like that. It is a manual
for caregiving, and covers the whole spectrum, beginning with
the occasional hospital visit, caregiving to ill family
members, sometimes even terminally ill children, relating to
the mentally ill and caring for the elderly — with
everything in between.
Several years ago, a very vital man in our community had a
severe case of hiccups, for which he had to be hospitalized.
In the course of his treatment, he was given an overdose of
medicine, four times the required amount; he never recovered,
and his death sent shock waves throughout. Of course, with
hindsight, we cannot say that it would have been avoided,
since this was his destiny. But a lesson in foresight can
certainly be derived to keep us on our toes.
Be alert, be on top of things, the book advises. This is your
right, your duty. The patient and his caregiver, that is,
family member, should know what a particular medicine does,
how and when to take it, what should be avoided while taking
it etc. The author suggests that if the doctor isn't
providing enough information, "You can call your local
pharmacy and ask for a complete description . . . It is the
right of the patient to know, so don't feel apologetic about
asking for it."
Naomi Brudner has all the top credentials to offer guidelines
in all the aspects of caregiving, besides being a vital part
of our chareidi world and its Torah outlook.
Graduating from the Ferkauf Graduate School of Psychology,
she is the founder of the Choose Life Resource Center. In
this comprehensive work, she deals with the problem mentioned
above, for example, of monitoring medical care in hospitals,
in Chapter Twelve: Dealing with the Medical Establishment.
Of several stories, I quote the following:
"A day after the birth of one of my children, the doctors
thought they had found a problem. He was put in the premie
ward for constant observation and hooked up to various
monitors."
This mother goes on to tell how, one time, the heart monitor
registered forty beats a minute, which she knew to be
dangerously low. She ran to the nurses, only to be told they
were on their lunch break. She said it was urgent and they
replied that it didn't matter since that particular monitor
didn't work well, anyway.
"I ran to find a doctor and there, too, I had to press my
point. Finally he came, checked my baby, checked the monitor
and said he would have it changed . . . "
And for a respite of [perhaps, sick] humor in this very
serious book:
"My father was feeling quite ill and at the doctor's
instructions, we had blood tests taken. We waited anxiously
for the answers. Finally I received a phone call with the
results: My father was pregnant!"
"No one hospital has a monopoly on all the best facilities or
doctors," she writes, and we can choose our priorities. The
hospital credo at Laniado Hospital in Netanya, for example,
is preservation of life, which mandates that its staff never
go on strike and no compromises will be made regarding life
support systems for the terminally ill.
Brudner is very convincing on the mind-body connection in
healing and faults health professionals, who have become so
specialized that they only focus on eyes, ears, noses and
throats, for example, and not on the whole patient. She
accuses them of ignoring this factor, sometimes from sheer
ignorance, quoting numerous sources and devoting one entire
chapter, "Choosing the Mind-Body Interaction" to this
subject. This, indeed, is a thread running throughout the
entire book. The importance of a touch, a hug, a caress in
pure healing is highlighted with many real life examples. In
short, `caring.'
A healthy Jewish perspective on illness, life and death runs
throughout the book. I will conclude with two excerpted
examples:
A respected rebbetzin required a complex operation. Before
going into surgery, she asked to speak to the surgeon, a top
man in his field.
"Doctor," she said, "I hope that all will go well, but if
by any chance it doesn't, please don't take it to heart or
feel guilty. Everything is from G-d."
He was greatly impressed . . . thanked her sincerely and
started to walk away.
"Doctor," the rebbetzin called, " . . . I just wanted to add
that if the operation is a success and I recover, that, too,
is from G-d."
And there is the mother whose child was going into complex
surgery: This vignette tells how she reached the red line on
the floor beyond which no one but the surgeon and patient are
allowed to pass.
"I took my daughter's hands and face in my hands, kissing
and hugging her. I then spontaneously looked at the surgeon
with his surgical mask and cap. Only his eyes were showing .
. . I could see he was Jewish. With great emotion, in what
might be called a "stage whisper," and with tears in my eyes
but a smile on my face, I said Shema Yisroel.
"I saw clearly that the words went directly into the doctor's
neshomoh as he gasped and then nodded back with a serious
smile."
I don't want to leave the YATED reader with the impression
that this is a heavy book that only deals with the ponderous
side. It is a well constructed, very practical manual for
every kind of caregiving, from casual neighborly concern to
the real ongoing thing.
It is very readable, interesting, full of stories that
highlight all the well-made points. And much more: it is a
manual on the mitzvah of bein odom lachaveiro,
on "caring to give the very best."
