As it turned out, Hashem sent us the refuah (remedy) before the makka (blow). Little did we realize when we planned this trip that we would have to go to Israel for a medical emergency. Our tickets were for the day after Yom Kippur. Five days before Rosh Hashanah, Dovid was in excruciating pain. The doctors at Shaarei Tzedek correctly diagnosed cecal volvulus, a rare form of intestinal obstruction. If not correctly diagnosed and treated in time, the results can be catastrophic. Right away, that very night, the doctors performed emergency surgery.
When I arrived at the hospital a few days later, it took a while to locate my son as the hospital had registered him as Yechezkel Lasson. From this seemingly random detail, I drew hope and strength. You see, when Dovid was born, we named him Yechezkel Dovid. Twenty-four years later, the hospital used only Yechezkel throughout his stay. The name Yechezkel is from the roots chazak (strength) and Keil (G-d).
Our son needed the strength of Hakadosh Baruch Hu (G-d) to recover from the numerous complications and setbacks. And we needed the chizuk, the strength and support, of our family and friends – and especially Hashem – to make it through this tumultuous time.
I am sure that the name Yechezkel was part of the miracle of his survival. It was the name of my grandfather, Chester Siegel, z”l. My Zaidy was a righteous man and moser nefesh for shmiras Shabbos. I believe that this zechus avos (ancestral merit) helped our son pull through.
Our beloved daughter (in-law) Arielle (Levine of Potomac), a young woman in her first year of marriage, had to face this challenge, and she actually saved Dovid’s life. On the second day of Rosh Hashanah, while recovering from his first surgery, Dovid’s pain intensified, and the nurses were giving him more pain medicine. Arielle insisted, demanded, actually fought, with the staff on duty over Yom Tov until they finally called in a doctor, who ordered a CT scan, which showed an anastomotic leak at the surgical sight. This could have led to sepsis, which is often fatal. The doctors performed a second emergency surgery right away.
Meanwhile, I realized that I had to go to Israel sooner than expected. I bought a new ticket and left the day after Rosh Hashanah. Fortunately, Arielle was not alone. I have two brothers, Shmuly and Yoni, and two sisters, Estie and Penina, who have made aliyah. They and their families were incredibly supportive. They were there for Dovid all the time and helped in ways we could not have imagined. At the same time, our married daughter, Tehilla Shuman, helped to coordinate a WhatsApp group, so people could sign up to participate in round-the-clock, 24/7, recitation of tehilim. The Oberstein, Lasson, and Siegel families, classmates, friends, and people all over the world davened for our son. My Baltimore friends did many other chasadim but prefer that I not enumerate.
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The surgeons, Dr. Boaz and Dr. Yelenik, were excellent. Dovid had tremendous confidence in them. They and the entire staff of Shaarei Tzedek were genuinely concerned about him as a person. Am Yisrael is one family, and that is not just a figure of speech. Over the weeks we were there, we got to know many people, and they all asked about him and gave brachos for a refuah shleima.
As soon as I arrived in Israel, I got in touch with my brother Shmuly’s father-in-law, Professor Charlie Sprung of Hadassah Hospital, who called his good friend, Professor Reissman, the Director of Surgery for the entire Shaarei Tzedek Hospital. Dr. Reissman himself came numerous times, even on Yom Kippur, to see our son. It does help to know people, especially with socialized medicine. And it helped for the staff to see the Chief come almost daily. But Dovid was still a long way from recovery. Every day was a challenge, and we had multiple setbacks. Dovid had a myriad of tubes and could not eat anything by mouth.
I want to praise Shaarei Tzedek for their scrupulous observance of halacha. For example, they have non-Jews who will perform any melacha that is needed. I saw that not only the several eateries and the gift shop were closed but even the vending machines were turned off. You couldn’t even heat soup in a microwave, because they were all turned off until motzei Shabbos, when they all came back on. Every food establishment is kosher lemehadrin, and the hospital is run according to halacha. There is also a cafeteria which is open for prepaid meals.
We spent Shabbos Shuva in the hospital. They gave us a private room that was not in use for our Shabbos seudos. Meir and Akiva rallied around their brother. We set up a beautiful table with tablecloth and flowers. Our friends arranged for us to have food. Although he could not eat or drink, Dovid could listen to divrei Torah and sing zemiros, with difficulty, as he was very weak.
Erev Yom Kippur, I took Dovid for a walk, and we went up to the eighth floor terrace outside the shul for some fresh air. A lady came over offering drinks and asked that we make a bracha so she could answer amen as a zechus for her husband. I explained that Dovid couldn’t drink or eat. The lady persevered. She pulled out a bag of aromatic spices and asked him to make a Borei minei besamim and smell the spices. Dovid felt good that, even in his weak state, he could help this woman merit a zechus.
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Yom Kippur was an experience I will long remember. First of all, the rabbi came to each patient, together with a doctor, to assess whether the patient could eat. The staff timed all medications and treatments on Yom Kippur, such as a CT scan, around the davening schedule so patients could attend part of the davening. My son got to go to the shul in a wheelchair, with his IV pole, a colostomy bag, two drains, and a tube down his nose. He went for as much as he could.
There are two minyanim in Shaarei Tzedek Hospital, Sefardi and Ashkenazi. But that doesn’t give the whole picture. From my vantage point in the ezras nashim, I noticed the most wonderfully diverse array of hair coverings and clothing styles that you could imagine. I saw and felt deeply that, as different as we looked, each one of us was davening to the same one G-d; our core values and beliefs are the same. Hashem alone sustains us. His compassion heals us. I felt my neshama connected in a way that included so much more than my family, my shul, and my community. I felt an eternal bond with all of my sisters in that shul; we were all one family. Ordinarily, these people would be davening in a wide variety of shuls in their towns, but at the hospital, on Yom Kippur, we were together, and formed an eternal bond.
But as I approached the shul on erev Yom Kippur, I was feeling very defeated, very vulnerable in the face of so many complications and setbacks. I was also ambivalent about going to an unknown shul where I knew no one. Wherever I have davened over the years, my husband Jonny, as baal tefila, sang all the Yom Kippur nigunim I had grown up with. How would I feel with a strange new davening?
How comforted I was when the chazan of Shaarei Tzedek began singing the same familiar tunes! I no longer felt that loneliness; I was at home. Here I was, in the hospital with a very sick child, but it would be okay. I was surrounded by family, and everything was as it was supposed to be. All of a sudden, my emuna came back full force. Hashem was right there. I understood anew the tefila “Shir hama’alos mima’amakim, which is a cry from the depths of our soul. It is called a Song of Ascents, and here I was on the eighth floor, where the shul is located, overlooking Yerushalayim, where the Tehilim was written, calling out to Hashem. On this Yom Kippur, I truly understood what we mean when we daily recite that psalm. Hashem was with us, and I felt it.
As Yom Kippur came to a close, at Neilah, the shul was becoming very crowded. I saw an old man brought to the entrance in his hospital bed. Not only patients but doctors, nurses, and other staff all wanted to be there for the shofar blowing at the end of the day. I kept giving up my seat and moving until, eventually, I walked outside onto the balcony in front of the shul. I could hear the chazan through the open window. Other women joined me as there was no room inside. As the sun set over the hills of Yerushalayim, we all cried out in unison, the “Shema Yisrael…” and “Hashem Hu HaElokim.” We know that Hashem is our Ultimate Protector. Hashem is One, and we ultimately merit Divine protection when we are one. Unity not uniformity. We may look different, but we are all children of Hashem Echad.
As soon as havdala was recited, some men and children appeared, almost magically, and set up tables with all kinds of rugelach, fruit, and drinks for everyone to break their fast. I must say that I didn’t even feel hungry. I had a davening like never before in my life. I felt so connected to my soul that my body wasn’t hungry or thirsty.
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Many diverse individuals and groups visited the hospital to cheer up the patients, especially on erev Shabbos. A group came with musical instruments and asked Dovid what kind of music he liked, and as they played, he sang along, with much difficulty as he was very weak. Some girls came around giving treats like candy to everyone. One asked me if I was the mother of the patient and when I said yes, she gave me a bag of makeup. I could have used it, but when I looked, I saw it was in colors like turquoise eyeliner and mascara: more Israeli style, I guess. But I appreciated the thought.
At Shaarei Tzedek, you don’t have to ask, they do everything through halacha and a Jewish lens; they know what is important to us. The doctors told us that Dovid could go home for Sukkos and they gave him a temporary chofesh (break). He was not discharged, and they kept his room for him to return after the first days. We told them we keep two days, and they said alright to that. Jonny took him back as soon as Yom Tov was over for continued care. The next day they allowed him to go home again, but he had to come back several times for various treatments. All this time, they kept his bed for him, and he was still listed as a patient, in case he needed to return. He was not discharged until Isru Chag, after Simchas Torah.
On Chol Hamoed, the entire Oberstein family in Israel went on a tiyul (trip) and then we had a BBQ at Shmuly’s house. Jonny picked up Dovid for that, so he could be with his family and enjoy some good food. Our Oberstein family in Israel – my two brothers and two sisters (who live in Modiin, Ramat Beit Shemesh, and Tel Aviv) and their families, and our Lasson cousins were with us every hour of the day and night, dropping everything to help. I can’t begin to express how much they did for us.
My father, Rabbi Elchonon Oberstein, always tells us that we must remember two things: We are family and we are Jews. This lesson has been ingrained in us from birth. Our dear son went through a very rough time, but it enabled us to experience incredible chesed, both in the hospital and when he was discharged. His Rosh Hayeshiva at Toras Moshe, Rabbi Moshe Meiselman, and his sons, Rabbis Naftali and Eli, were there for him constantly. Just to illustrate, Rav Eli went out of the hospital to get Dovid the ice cream he craved. He had not had solid food for many days. They did whatever they could do to give him chizuk and cheer him up.
Arielle is a true aishes chayil, a woman of valor. She is chayil, a warrior championing the cause of her husband. She learned how to navigate the complex health care system, and she was indefatigable. A young kallah, married just before Purim, she gave support and love and helped her husband pull through. She of course continues to do so now that he is home.
Baruch Hashem, Dovid is back in his apartment in Ramat Eshkol and is going to his kollel and also to Ner LaElef, a two-year program to train Jewish leaders. He is regaining his strength, and in three months he will have surgery to reverse his stoma. Please continue to daven for Yechezkel Dovid ben Chaya Sara.
We look forward to besoros tovos (good news). In the merit of the incredible chesed displayed to our family, may klal Yisrael have a year of health, strength, and unity!
