Some time after my brother's soul returned to Hashem, I made
plans to study in a women's seminary in Jerusalem. Both my
boys were now working and living in their own apartments. I
felt free to go. I was hoping I could stay for at least six
months. Eventually, I wanted to make aliyah, but now, now I
wanted to concentrate all my attention on learning Torah full-
time. This was a luxury I did not have before.
When we landed in Israel, I almost danced off the plane. The
sun was shining, and all was right with the world. I was
home! Thank you, Hashem!
I began thinking of my first visit in Israel. It was 1973. My
husband had a year's sabbatical from his teaching position
and he, Louis, and I traveled abroad for one year.
On our second day in Israel, walking on one of Tel Aviv's
busy streets, I suddenly realized that I was "home." My mind
and heart seemed united in this one understanding. I was
where I should be. I was not among people who thought I was
different in a negative way because I was Jewish. It was an
unforgettable experience. My heart was racing.
Like others in the minority that had no strong religious
identity, I tried to emulate the majority with whom I lived
in order to be accepted, without even being aware of doing
it! Now, here, I was among other Jews. I felt a new,
comfortable sense of acceptance I had never experienced
before.
But what shook me up the most was realizing how insidious the
diaspora is. I was born and raised in the U.S. but until this
sudden revelation, I was not consciously aware that I was in
many ways an outsider!
What saddens me is that in spite of becoming aware of this
shocking and emotional impact that I experienced, because it
was psychologically, and in other ways, convenient, I put it
out of my mind, just as I have done with the number of
antisemitic experiences I have had growing up in the U.S.
*
But it was now 1989. I had been a Torah-observant Jew since
1980, and in Jerusalem, ready to learn more about my
heritage. When I saw the curriculum at the seminary I chose
to attend, I was like a child in a candy store. I wanted it
all. I decided on a nine-to-five schedule. It was going to be
a very full day, what with classes, transportation to and
from school, light housekeeping, food shopping, and making my
meals.
I was staying temporarily at a bed-and-breakfast place
recommended to me. My plans were to start classes on Sunday,
as well as look for an apartment. I was delighted. I kept
pinching myself. "I'm here. I'm really here. I am home and I
am going to be learning Torah full time. How lucky I am!
Thank You, thank You, thank You, Hashem"!
The next morning, I woke up in pain. My left side and
shoulder hurt a lot. I tried to ignore it, but by the next
day it was much worse. I hailed a cab while walking on the
street, and asked the driver to take me to the nearest
hospital emergency room.
I described the pain to the doctor and he examined me. "What
do all these scars come from? Your body looks like a road
map!" When he heard that I had cancer not once, but twice,
and unrelated to one another, I could see an instant change
in his face. He had x-rays taken and said he would be
back.
I lay on the cot, trying not to cry from the pain, and the
realization that I was once again in a hospital. I prayed to
Hashem not to let whatever this was, interfere with my
opportunity to learn, and to please take away the pain.
After what seemed a very long time, the doctor returned and
said it looked as if my cancer had spread to my bones. I
could not believe my ears! I don't remember what else he
said. Between the pain and hearing this, it was as if all the
wind had been knocked out of me. I left the hospital and took
a cab back to my room. It was eleven p.m. What do I do now?
It was a long, sleepless night, and without any medication to
alleviate the pain.
Around four in the morning, I remembered that my doctor in
the States had given me the name of a doctor he recommended
if I needed one. I waited until seven, and called. He
answered the phone! I told him what had happened. He advised
me to get the x-rays and come to his hospital at nine, where
he would be waiting for me. I did just that. He had me wait
in his office while he went to radiology with my x-rays.
About twenty minutes later he returned, saying that there was
absolutely no sign of cancer anywhere on the pictures! He
could not understand why there was no written diagnosis, with
the doctor's signature, enclosed.
He advised me that because of the pain I was in, and because
of my medical history, I should take the next plane back to
the States where my own doctor, who was familiar with my
case, could treat me. He gave me medication for the pain and
a prescription for more.
The next day, when Shabbos was over, only ten days after
arriving, I was going back to the States, dazed over all that
was occurring, and concerned at what might be in store for
me.
Looking out the plane window, I found myself crying. Why was
He taking me away from Israel and learning Torah? Since I
first became ill with cancer, and throughout all that had
happened since, I have never questioned "Why me?" I know, as
I know I'm alive, and a Jew, and a woman, that whatever
happens, happens because Hashem causes it to be, and that it
happens in order to help me grow closer to Him. I wasn't sure
if it was atonement for past transgressions, or it was given
to me for other reasons. I wished I could understand what
Hashem wanted me to do so I could get closer to Him.
The pain eased considerably by the time the plane landed at
Kennedy airport. I was feeling almost human. My doctor put me
through an intensive series of tests, from head to toe. All
results were negative.
Being an internist is like being a detective, in that one
tries to find clues as to what, or who, is the culprit. He
had a big challenge. A couple of weeks had gone by. By this
time, the pain had disappeared. He called and said he wanted
me to see a hematologist right away. In fact, he made the
appointment, so I would see him sooner than if I called to
make one.
A few days later I was sitting in the hematologist's office.
He described ten different symptoms, asking after each if I
had ever experienced them. By the time he stopped, I was
sitting on the edge of my chair. I finally found someone who
understood what I had been experiencing, off and on, for the
last five years or so.
He said that since the symptoms don't seem to have any
recognizable relationship, the disorder is hard to diagnose.
He believed I had polycythemia vera, but that until further
testing was done, he could not know for sure. He said this
blood disorder is of unknown origin and there is, so far, no
cure for it, but it can be controlled. He explained the
treatments involved and said he would call me when the test
results came in.
After leaving his office, I went to the public library to
search for information on this disorder. There were two
current pharmaceutical manuals available. Although I could
not understand all the medical language, I could comprehend
enough to learn that this was a form of cancer with a
survival range, if treated, of seven to fifteen years.
Once again, I was being told (by people), how long I might
live, assuming I had this disease. I also learned it occurs
to five out of one million people, and mostly to middle-aged
and older Jews.
Test results showed that I did have this blood disease.
Treatments started right away, which consisted of periodic
blood tests, and when necessary, phlebotomies, which are the
opposite of blood transfusions, in that blood is removed,
rather than put into the body.
Waiting for the results of periodic blood tests consistently
provides me with opportunities to strengthen my appreciation
of how precious life-time is. Each time blood is taken, and
when waiting for the results, I pray that Hashem give me more
time to work on myself.
After seven long months, the doctor said the condition was
finally under control. I was always asking him when I could
go back to Israel. The day arrived when he said I could go,
but for the rest of my life I would need to be under a
hematologist's care. This means having blood tests and check-
ups regularly, and treatments when required.
I returned to Jerusalem and went to the bed-and-breakfast
home where I had stayed earlier. I immediately began making
arrangements for my learning, housing, and medical care.
I started attending classes at EYAHT, a womens' seminary, and
stayed in a friend's empty apartment until I found one I
wanted. Unfortunately, three months after arriving in
Jerusalem, my blood condition took a turn for the worse.
Phlebotomies were no longer helpful. I needed to take
chemotherapy capsules daily. I am still taking them, fifteen
years later!
Boruch Hashem, the new treatment did not interfere with my
learning, except that I was now beginning to feel
increasingly more tired. What a small price to pay for being
able to learn Torah here in the Holy Land, in the holiest
city in the world!
*
One can learn in a plethora of yeshivos and in private homes,
where Hashem and Torah are the main focus in life. Here I
have the Kosel to go to whenever I want to express my joys
and my sorrow to our Creator, and ask for His help and
guidance.
The many religious neighborhoods teem with street activities,
before and after yomin tovim, that you can't find
elsewhere. There are great cauldrons of boiling water on the
streets available for kashering pots and utensils before
Passover. Live chickens are sold and used for kapparos
before Yom Kippur. Lulovim and esrogim, succah
decorations, pictures of Jewish Sages and great rabbis,
Chanukah menoras and glass holders for Chanukah candle
lighting, and much more, are displayed on the streets to
enjoy, and to buy. The air is filled with joy and excitement,
in anticipation of celebrating Hashem's commandments and
commemorating His miracles.
