I thank You
Miracle stories
When man plans
I By Gidon Orelowitz
It was 2pm, four hours before the start of
Pesach. After sufficient tests, my doctor
called for an operation to remove my appendix which was infected. At 4pm, I
eventually went into theatre for an hour.
When I came out at 5pm, I remember my
mom standing there and I held my sister’s
hand. I was full of drugs and passed out. I
didn’t daven mincha or maariv on Monday, but I reckon Hashem knew why.
Now the story really begins. Before going into theatre, there was a debate going
on. My awesome family don’t like leaving
each other alone. One of them was willing
to spend yom tov with me. My older
brother, Yehuda, decided to step up to the
plate. We secured a room in the hospital
for the two of us, a private room, as opposed to him sleeping in the hotel across
the road. My mom and sister had – with
tremendous foresight – packed everything we needed to spend yom tov away,
and left it all in our room. This included
kosher for Pesach food and drink,
Machzorim, Haggadahs, special dishes
needed for the Seder, clothing, medicine,
tehillim, Gemorah, magazines and toiletries. My mom, dad and sister left at 5pm
to go home, and Yehuda settled into the
room. I was drifting in and out of conscious awareness, not really present. The
anaesthetic was powerful.
Pesach in Rosebank
– what a jol
I awoke two hours later, at 7pm, to find
Yehuda leaving to go downstairs to have a
Seder. I managed to read the Haggadah
myself, in fact, making the brocha at the
end for counting the Omer, not realising
it was the first night of Pesach, so it was
24 JEWISH LIFE n ISSUE 83
actually a brocha in vain (don’t tell any
rabbis). That’s all I managed, and I was
asleep. The next morning, Yehuda explained to me who was at his Seder the
night before. Somehow, all the Jewish patients in the hospital found each other.
There was my brother, who was healthy; a
guy who was in for issues with his kidney;
another who had a stroke and had been in
hospital for a while; and his two sons,
who then went home to have their own.
Then there was Lawrence. I found out
that he had the craziest story. He’s a diabetic, and stopped taking his medicine.
He was fine for three weeks, and then fell
into a diabetic coma for two-and-a-half
months. During the coma, he had a heart
attack, then came out of the coma and developed gangrene in his foot, which subsequently had to be amputated below the
knee. Now, this oke is positive about life!
Anyhow, the Seder they had went for
about an hour; they sang and did everything. They had it on the first floor in the
visitors’ and counselling room, which is
made up of two couches and a coffee table. Between one guy’s daughter packing
him everything and everything my family
brought, they literally had everything.
The second night, there were nine of us
at the Seder. It was the first Seder I was
only allowed water. I bet you no rabbi has
ever been asked what measurement of water should be drunk to fulfil the obligation.
I should write a new section of Talmud. So,
my brother conducted it like a symphony
orchestra. We sang, off key of course.
There was a full Seder plate, and the three
matzahs in a bag, and wine, which my
brother and another patient finished, and
got rightfully merry. So, during our stay
there, my brother and I did our own ward
rounds. In between games of monopoly
and backgammon with my brother and
Lawrence, we got to know all the Jewish
patients. There was an old lady in the room
next door to us who’s kids live in America,
so she was so happy that we visited her.
Bikkur cholim… does it apply if you’re also
sick? An hour before yom tov ended, we
went outside the hospital for the first time
and sat on the steps looking at the “big
world”. My brother reckons we were put
there for reasons beyond our understanding. It wasn’t for us. It was so we could
make a difference to the lives of the other
Jewish patients.
We introduced our fellow Seder-mates
to my parents after yom tov. They were
crying when relating to my parents how
special the Pesach was for them. Lawrence said it was the best Pesach he’s ever
had. I suppose meeting Lawrence taught
us more than any textbook could teach.
This Pesach was not planned. It couldn’t
have been. Well, not by us at least. Hashem was smiling, though, because He
planned it. He had a good chuckle all
along. This Pesach will forever stick out.
You know why? All the other ones were
‘perfect’. But, in my memory, they all
form a blob, they were all the same. This
Pesach was like no other. Going forward,
my brother suggested we start a club and
make a voluntary roster to ensure that
healthy people go to hospitals to run Sedorim over Pesach. Stay tuned, my
friends. Thanks for listening. I hope you
enjoyed. I hope you now have a greater
understanding of how little humans are
really in control. The universe has a plan
for all of us. JL
Keep your stories coming in!
E-mail [email protected]
photograpHs: BIGSTOCKPHOTO.COM
and G-d chuckles