tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33746531410211095552024-03-14T05:13:10.679-04:00Mishaneh Makom Mishaneh MazalYet ANOTHER aliyah blog -- but one I hope that will be source of hope for myself and inspiration for others.Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-88052599024024856252013-03-01T05:07:00.002-05:002013-03-01T05:07:34.625-05:00My week of R and R...<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well...much has changed since my last post. On Thursday evening, a week ago, I suddenly experienced excruciating and immobilizing pain in my leg. I was screaming. Somehow, I managed to get into my bed, and get my leg into a position that was comfortable. My daughter came in, in response to my yelling and asked what she could do. I did not know. I lay there for a little while, crying, trembling, and anxious, not knowing what to do. Finally, I picked up my cellphone and emailed my doctor. "I am having excruciating pain and I cannot move", I wrote. He responded, "Come to the ER at EinKerem". I was so befuddled I had to ask him how I should get there. He told me either with a friend or in an ambulance. I realized very quickly that there was no way I would be able to go with a friend. I could not move. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Having never had the experience of having to call an ambulance before (in Israel) I was unsure how to do this. I asked my daughter to call my friend, Robin and ask her to come over. But Robin was not answering her phone. So then I asked her to call Pam. Pam was home, and she came over immediately. It seemed to me that she must have FLOWN she got there so fast. She came to me and I was crying and shaking and told her that I needed to get to the ER. She knew just what to do, and she called Hatzalah and in less than one minute Hatzalah was there! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was so terrified because I could not see how they were going to manage to transfer me from my bed to the gurney without causing me pain. But they did! There were so professional about it I was able to relax a little bit and to know that I was in good hands. One of the EMT's was a friend, Sergio Geralnik. He was extremely considerate of me, and he even asked the other EMT to drive instead of himself, so he could sit in the back with me. He did that because he knew me, knew about my hearing impairment and knew that I did not speak Hebrew so well. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We made it to the hospital in pretty good time. I was then brought into the ER and transferred to a hospital gurney. Again, it was done pain free. Pam had followed them in her car and came in to give me my things that she brought with her (that my daughter had put together for me). She was only able to remain for a few minutes because she had to get back to her children. And then Robin walked in. She had food for me (yummy sesame noodles) and she stayed with me for company and moral support until the wee hours of the morning. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had remained in contact with my doctor the whole time via email - "Hatzalah is here", "We are leaving now", "We are on the way", "We are at the ER", and "my X-rays were taken". My doctor was performing surgery at Hadassah Har HaTzofim. He came to me as soon as he was done, which was not long after I had arrived. He looked at my X-rays, he looked at my leg, and could not see anything wrong. But he had me admitted to the hospital for "pain management". He also informed me that he would be away for three days (it was Purim, a holiday weekend). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, I spent another Shabbat in the hospital only this time it was not so bad. I had a better expectation of what would be. I was also too emotionally and physically exhausted to care so much. On Sunday another set of X-Rays were taken. On Sunday one of the nurses came to me and urged me to get out of bed and into a wheelchair. I was terrified but I finally agreed. I agreed because I was in pain -- I needed to use the bathroom. I had been given a diaper to wear but we are so conditioned to only relieve ourselves when we are sitting over an open hole, so I was unable to do so. After much cajoling I agreed and he helped me into the special bathroom wheelchair I took a book and went into the bathroom and sat. Later when he came to take me back to my bed he inquired as to my "success" -- I answered him with a smile, and his entire face lit up and he laughed and he was so proud of himself for having persuaded me to get up and into the bathroom!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Monday my doctor came to see me. He again checked my x-rays and my leg and examined me. And what he told me stunned me. He said, "I'm stumped. I have no idea what is going on with you." And then he said, "I will figure something out" and he left me. Now, you can only IMAGINE what was going in MY mind. I was in tears, terrified, and my anxiety level was through the roof. After I managed to calm myself down, I turned to my computer and logged into Facebook and went to a Facebook support group to which I belong for people who wear frames such as the one I was now sporting. I had been sharing my experiences with them and finding the group to be quite supportive. This time I wrote about the pain I was having and asked about them and what pain they might have experienced. I asked about nerve pain and what that was like. I was able to ascertain that the pain I was experiencing did indeed seem to be nerve pain. I further inquired about whether the pain continued when the frame was removed or if it went away. Those that answered me said it went away. So feeling a bit more relieved I resolved to bring up nerve pain to my doctor the next day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The next day he showed up, with two other people and they examined me and discussed my leg, with me. Again, there was a sense of know really knowing what was going on. I asked him if it could be nerve pain and he said no. I said how do you know it is not nerve pain? He said, because he has seen nerve pain and he knows what it looks like and this is not it. But when it seemed that all they were going to do was increase the narcotics I was taking I interruped them and said, "are you sure that something like gabapentin would not be better?" At that point he turned to his colleague and ask her to put a request in for the Pain Clinic to come by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shortly thereafter, the pain clinicians came by. They looked at my records, my x-rays, and asked me a lot of questions. Then they prescribed Lyrica (pregablin) which is similar to gabpentin and is used for nerve pain. I started on that two nights ago. It is supposed to take about a week or two for it to take effect. In the meantime I am slowly feeling better. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A retrospective look at how I managed myself after the surgery reveals that I was probably doing too much and had too much stress in my life. I was working, working OUTSIDE the home, and going up and down the stairs outside my house on a daily basis, I went away for the first two Shabbatot I was home, I went to a late night wedding, and to add to all this, life in my home was rather stressful. I was having to care for myself without any help whatsoever, while at the same time I was privy to the vicissitudes of my daughter's family. I love my family, and grandchildren very much but I really needed a peaceful, loving, and warm environment in which to recuperate. I was not getting that and my stress level was climbing higher and higher. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was also becoming depressed. I was feeling sad, and lonely, and crying all the time. So, it should have come as no surprise that I "fell apart" by having a major painful episode. The pain was real. I still have it. I do believe that all the factors above contributed. I felt that there was a stunning lack of compassion for me by the players in my life - including my daughter, son in law, mechutenet, and my boss. It was all just too much for me. Perhaps it was MY fault. I played things down. I tried to smile and go along. I tried to be valiant. It simply did not work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have been in the hospital now just over a week and have been given the opportunity to rest, to relax, to heal, and to even treat my anxiety. We are planning for me to go to a rehab center when I leave here. I do not know if that will happen. The decision is ultimately out of my hands. It is up to the nurse from my Kuppah to decide that. If I cannot get into a rehab center, then I will go to my sister in law in RBS. It is not ideal -- their bathrooms are not at all "accessible", even though they are on the same floor as my bedroom and the main rooms of the house. But it is preferable to my only other alternative which is home -- and that is not an alternative for me at this time. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Next update will include news about whether I was successful in getting into a rehab center...</span><br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-40859412849689646262013-02-15T01:13:00.001-05:002013-02-15T07:13:32.161-05:00My post surgery life...<br />
Mornings are the best, but by the time noon rolls around, I am wiped out. My leg either hurts me or is extremely uncomfortable. I am quite helpless. I cannot stand or walk on my own and must use a walker. This means I cannot carry a damn thing. We considered putting a basket on my walker but that did not work because my walker does not fit through the doors to any of the bathrooms unless I go sideways and even then it is a "just fit" with no room for a basket on the walker!! <br />
<br />
In the kitchen I can manage a little bit -- I can get food from the cabinets or fridge and place them on the counter which is close. I can even prepare some food. I can slide my prepared food over to the part of counter close to the table and I can sit down, reach over the get the food and sit down and eat. But I cannot carry anything over to my "office" -- which has now been moved to a corner of my living room as I cannot get down the stairs to where it normally is. <br />
<br />
I can do stairs, albeit with humongous difficulty but there must be at least one railing for me to hold onto. There are NO railings on the half flight of steps at the end of the hall which leads to my office. The only way in and out of my home is to go down or up a flight of stone steps. There is a railing, but only one one side of the very wide staircase. I use the railing with a crutch to make my way up or down. Up is excruciatingly difficult. Down is less so. <br />
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I have exercises I am supposed to do daily. I finally got smart and started doing them first thing in the morning rather than heading straight for my corner with the computer and cup of coffee. So, now that I am doing them I hope it will help to strengthen the leg so I can start putting more and more weight on it and less on my hands, arms, and pectoral muscles. Speaking of my pectoral muscles -- they HURT -- from using them! It makes moving around ever that much more difficult. OY! <br />
<br />
I am taking drugs aplenty. Targin, Optalgin, Percocet, Cephalex, Vitamins C, D and Calcium, a drug to prevent blood clots (injected into my abdomen daily), Xanax (prescribed as a muscle relaxant when the calf muscles of my right leg were cramping -- but Xanax is also helpful at reducing my anxiety a bit and helping me sleep, nice side effects). I am taking Arnica (sublingually) to help my bone and muscle tissue to heal, eating a banana a day for the cramping. <br />
<br />
I do not have much of an appetite, but I eat. Yogurt and granola for breakfast, soup or pasta for lunch, or maybe a sandwich. Dinner is whatever my daughter decides to make. Could be chicken, or meat, or soup or something. I miss cooking. <br />
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I am keeping my leg elevated much of the time but I alternate and sometimes sit normally with my leg down. My PT told me I should vary my position a lot and I should get up and walk a bit. Hard to do with the upper muscles in pain! <br />
<br />
Everything I do takes SO MUCH longer to do. I have to plan ahead because if I forget something it means another long painful walk to get it (esp if no on else is home or if my daughter is pre-occupied with caring for the kids). I was recently invited to spend a Shabbat at the home of a friend who is getting married, for her Shabbat Kallah. The plan was to make the "party" time of the Shabbat Kallah at her neighbor's house. I told them that I cannot do that kind of walk and their response was, "it is only one house over". They have NO IDEA that "only one house over" FEELS like a hundred houses over for me. It is too much for me yet. The plan was changed, however, when they learned that the forecast is for rain. Now it will take place in my friends home where I will be anyway. <br />
<br />
Taking a shower. Now there's an experience! The shower in my private bathroom is a small stall with a very narrow aperture through which to access it. So, I cannot use that. That means I have to use the shower/tub in the main bathroom. As I mentioned above. access to the bathroom is sideways, the only way I and my walker will fit through the door. Once in, I shut the door and then: I place a large towel on the floor. Then there is a folding chair I open on top of that, and I place the chair so it is facing the tub, up against the side wall of the tub. (Bear in mind, I am doing this standing on one good leg and one bad leg with my walker next to me in case i need to grab it.) I get undressed (I actually get undressed in my bedroom, and I have to remove all the surgical dressings from the pin sites before I shower, I put on a bathrobe and hobble out to the bathroom.) I drape my bathrobe over the walker (where I have two towels waiting for me there as well). I sit on the folding chair, and then very carefully lift up my legs and bring them down over the tub wall and into the tub. Then I shift my body forward until I am sitting on the tub edge. The folding chair remains in place behind my butt. I turn on the water and using the hose and shower attachment I get myself wet and then soapy and then rinse and then shampoo my hair and rinse that. Then, I carefully go back onto the folding chair and move my legs out of the tub. I cannot use a shower chair in the tub -- it is too narrow for any tub chair to fit. (no matter which way we face it). I cannot use a tub bench -- the tub edge next to the wall is far too narrow for that to be secure. I do not OWN the place so I cannot invest in adding accessible fixtures to the tub. So, this is what I am stuck with. It works. I get clean. It is just a bit more work than ideal. <br />
<br />
I am back to work already, which has its good points and bad. Good in that it forces me up and about and out of the house and up and down those stairs. Bad for the same reasons and it both tires and stresses me out. No choice for me really, as I need the moolah, even if it is really a pittance. I get home about 2 PM from work and I am exhausted. I eat lunch and then I either take a cat nap or a shower, depending on the day and how I feel and what else is planned. If the PT or OT is coming that is a consideration. <br />
<br />
I have at times been so exhausted that all I could do is cry - not the tears of emotional overwroughtness, but tears that stem from a physical organic source that I cannot stop even if I wanted to. Similar to the post partum tears I shed after I gave birth to my daughter Chloe. But there IS some emotional fallout for me. I am so independent and am trying to be so strong, wanting to be strong and not to fall apart -- it is at times overwhelming for me to feel this way. It is a new way of being for me and I am NOT used to it. My surgeon tells me, he is glad I am so independent. He likes that I am being so strong. And, I want to tell him, "but I am not. I am weak. I am feeling totally dependent." And I want to cry about that -- that I may not be living up to his perception of me as a strong person, someone who is so independent. Because I do not feel strong. I do not feel independent at this moment. <br />
<br />
This is my life -- for now. I know it is temporary. I know it will change -- for the better. I know I have to go through this. And I am blessed -- I was given the opportunity to do this, to have this surgery, and in the process I am learning so much more about myself and what I can tolerate and what I can do, and what I cannot do. The hardest part for me is to forgive myself when I feel I am being weak and scared and stupid. It is hard to allow myself that. Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-82310666348754236942013-02-05T03:49:00.001-05:002013-02-05T03:50:23.096-05:00I was framed!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On January 29<sup>th</sup> I entered Hadassah Ein Kerem
hospital for a major surgical procedure to correct a deformity in my right
leg. You may read my previous posts for
more information about that deformity and about my travails dealing with the
medical system here in Israel where I now live.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went to the hospital by taxi,(costing me a pretty penny),
armed with a walker, all my medical records, a few changes of clothing and
underwear, some toiletries, my cell phone, and eReader. And of course, a certain amount of confidence
mixed with trepidation. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I went alone as I was unable to arrange for a family member
to accompany me. This is Israel and life
in Israel can be rather inconvenient under the best of circumstances, and this
was not one of those times. However, I
was able to arrange for a very good friend to be there for me when I came out
from under. I chose her not only because
she is a good and dear friend and because I trusted her implicitly, but also because
it so happens that by avocation she is a health information management expert,
and by experience she has intimate knowledge of the Israeli medical
establishment and system. It also did
not hurt that she speaks Hebrew fluently.
I have a pretty good grasp of conversational Hebrew, and she would later
write in an update to my friends and family that “her Hebrew is good enough for
her needs”. As promised she was there
when I came around. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">After I arrived at the hospital and went to the Orthopedics
ward I was checked in and assigned a room.
I was shown where to put my things – there was a safe in the room with
an electronic keypad with which I was to create my own passcode. Unfortunately, the safe’s locking mechanism
was broken and I was unable to lock it up.
I thus refused to leave the room until it was either fixed, or I was moved
to a room with a working safe, or some other viable alternative was offered to
me for the security of my cellphone, eReader, and cash/credit cards. I left my jewelry at home. The aides came with the gurney to take me to
the OR, but I refused to go. They kept
telling me “but they are waiting for you in the OR”. I would not move, and said, not until my
belongings are secure. One of the nurses
suggested I leave the stuff in a bag at the nurse’s station. I asked if she would take responsibility for
my things to which she replied, “no way!”.
Again I refused to move. Finally,
they brought in security. After a failed
attempt to fix the safe’s locking mechanism, they used a key to open and then
lock it. But they would not give me the
key (it is a master). But, they agreed
to take responsibility for my things.
And so, I agreed and then was on my way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Interestingly enough, I was still pretty calm and not so
scared at this point. Last month, when I
had been originally scheduled for the surgery, I had been far more
nervous. (Read previous post to learn
why that surgery was cancelled at the last minute). I was brought to the prep room that is
directly before the OR. There, I was
prepped for the surgery. Connected to
IV. Last minute vitals read. Then the anesthesiologist arrived. We spoke
briefly and then I was brought into the OR and placed on what I can only
describe as a board. People refer to
this as the operating table but it was little more than a board.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Since I had elected to use regional
anesthesia, an epidural, I was first instructed to sit on the board, legs
hanging over, hands on my knees and then to lean over a bit while the lumbar
puncture was made.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After successful insertion
of the catheter for the administration of the epidural, I was told to “sit up
straight” and then I began to feel an icy cold liquid begin to course through
me.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Before I move on, I want to remind my dear readers that I am
severely to profoundly hard of hearing and wear hearing aids. But for the surgery I’d been told to remove
my hearing aids and they were locked up in the safe. (At a cost of appx $8000
USD of course they would be locked up!) Without my hearing aids I am
functionally deaf. So all of the input I
was experiencing at this point was visual, or via my sense of touch, or smell. Taste was not on the menu here! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Shortly thereafter I was told to lie back on the board. By now I was shivering uncontrollably, teeth
chattering audibly. My arms were placed
on boards perpendicular to the one on which I now lay, and strapped down – a surgical
cross or crucifix, if you will. Then, I
began to feel slightly “woozy” which indicated to me the beginning of the
administration of a sedative, as per agreement I had with the anesthesiologist.
I had told him that I wanted to be as unaware as possible of what was going
on. I thought it would be too scary for
me otherwise. After that moment I
remember nothing of the surgery (although I discovered some vestigial memory,
about which I will write a bit later on). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My next memory is of coming around, becoming conscious, and
feeling weird, and some pain, and seeing a hustle and bustle of nurses and
doctors around me, and then seeing the smiling face of my good friend, Yocheved
Golani – the aforementioned good and dear friend who would be there for me when
I came out of surgery. As promised,
there she was. I vaguely recall checking
under my blankets to see my new body piercing. Here is what it looks like:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdnrwqWzlksUJbManrrFYn9E94NOwGmzoX6ncx-ZWmOB4IgedutvgE0ZoTQrzNwdLFaKSflOIkv_3AJi1FkrDCfCllYE1lLljEBsMypFnOf2HKUPgsYQk3-8REQD5puCUAH85xPblYR-t/s1600/Framed+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHdnrwqWzlksUJbManrrFYn9E94NOwGmzoX6ncx-ZWmOB4IgedutvgE0ZoTQrzNwdLFaKSflOIkv_3AJi1FkrDCfCllYE1lLljEBsMypFnOf2HKUPgsYQk3-8REQD5puCUAH85xPblYR-t/s320/Framed+1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZuPULH1Hqvjr6FFYvZeo8wqUE4DNr08KKmBTrZFvQ5PYE4-0NLxlhhiGAay2mWbD61s52IVSB7eNEQwCI_m7z4J7UwdAxTgVGY75OpC2NJduxMKh_1v1ykvqp8Yj6QhU8BAiGWqkXqo7/s1600/Framed+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZuPULH1Hqvjr6FFYvZeo8wqUE4DNr08KKmBTrZFvQ5PYE4-0NLxlhhiGAay2mWbD61s52IVSB7eNEQwCI_m7z4J7UwdAxTgVGY75OpC2NJduxMKh_1v1ykvqp8Yj6QhU8BAiGWqkXqo7/s320/Framed+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My memory of being in the recovery room is somewhat
vague. I do know that I was after a
while somewhat lucid, I vaguely recall my surgeon coming to check on me, and I
recall talking to Yocheved, and being shown my PCA –although perhaps that did
not happen until I was safely ensconced in my room. I will have Yocheved add to this to fill in
the gaps where my memory has lapsed. I
also do remember being told that the anesthesia stopped working at some point
but everyone was quick to tell me that it was already after the surgery had
been completed. But I fear I went
through some real trauma beyond what was expected in terms of pain that I was
feeling. That fear is fueled by some of
the “nightmares” I have had subsequently in which I seem to be in a dark, cold
place and I experience the feelings of my body being yanked and clamped and
invaded – and during which I experience a real full body “jerk” in my sleep
that wakens me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As mentioned before, I was given PCA (Patient Controlled
Anesthesia) of morphine. I think it
helped me. It is hard for me to
know. I was still bedridden and
suffering the indignity of wearing a diaper.
Gosh those things are HUGE!
Initially I seemed to be unable to urinate—which I was told is a “side
effect” of the medication. I felt
enormous pressure on my bladder and it was overwhelmingly uncomfortable. I found that I had to “help myself along” by
using my hands to press down on my bladder.
(Is this TMI? If so, sorry – but I
feel that these are details that no one discusses and so the reality of what
one can expect to experience remains a secret.
The unknown can be very scary, at least for me. I prefer to know more rather than less. </span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Some of my memory in terms of the sequence of events is a
bit hazy. My friend went home early
Tuesday evening (at my urging as I knew if she stayed longer she would have a
harder time getting home – she was dependent on either public transportation,
or “tremping”, the Israeli term for hitchhiking). I think I slept well that night. In the morning I woke in pain but a few
presses of the “pain pump” helped me with that. I do not recall if it was on Wednesday or on
Thursday that I asked to be taken to the bathroom using the special wheelchair
with a hole in it that can be wheeled right over the toilet. I THINK I did that on Wednesday. I do remember
that when my surgeon came round to see me and I told him that I was using the
toilet and not a diaper he was quite surprised.
He had not expected that I would attempt being “up and about” so
quickly. It was not until the next day,
Thursday, that the physiotherapist came
around to see me and to begin his treatment with me. I remember I was terrified
of it. I had, at that point been taken
off the PCA and given a round of drugs which I could (and would) take. The main pain drug I was given is Targin
which has oxycodone and naloxone. I was
also given Optalgin (dipyrone- an analgesic).
I have limited my intake of this and I may substitute Tylenol for
this. The third drug for pain I am given
is Percocet. That has Tylenol in it and
more Oxycodone. I guess I have to be
careful of the amount of Tylenol I ingest.
I only take the Percocet “as needed”.
I have been limiting myself to taking it only once a day. I think I would deal better with the pain if
I took it once in the morning and one at night.
I might do that and stop the Optalgin altogether. Other meds I am taking are Clexane, an
injected drug once a day that is an anti-coagulant to prevent blood clots, and
vitamins D and C and Calcium, and Cefurax, an antibiotic. I have added the homeopathic Arnica to this.
Arnica is supposed to promote healing of muscle and bone tissue. I also must change the dressings on my pin
sites 2x a day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Anyway I made sure to take Percocet about a half hour before
the physiotherapist was due to see me. I
figured, rightly, that it would make it easier for me to do the exercises which
he would surely give me. It was VERY
scary for me to take those first steps, albeit with a walker. I am not putting full weight on my leg, I
cannot do that, but partial weight. It
is scary and, without the Percocet, painful.
But I am doing it and putting myself through more exercise by taking “walks”. I would walk the length of the corridor and
back. It might take me a half hour or
more to do it and I would be EXHAUSTED at the end, but I feel that it is very
important for me to remain active. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Wednesday morning, when my surgeon came to see me, he
told me, upon examining my leg in the frame that the rotation looks good, but
the angle may need some correction. On
Friday morning when he came I told him
that I agreed that the angle did not look right. He said he would fix it on Sunday morning. I said no, I wanted him to fix it right then
and there. He told me it would hurt a
bit and I smiled and said, I just took Percocet. Strike while the iron is hot. He went and got his wrench and made the
adjustments. It did not really HURT, it
just felt like a lot of pressure on my leg and was not comfortable. But I am glad I insisted on his making the
correction sooner rather than later. It
made it easier for me to straighten my leg at the knee – I would not be able to
have x-rays until I could do that satisfactorily and I would not be able to go
home until x-rays could be taken and they were satisfactory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On Sunday morning I was taken to the X-ray dept. I was told
I would need to stand with my knees straight for the x-ray. No problem, or so I thought. Upon arrival I was asked to “please step up
onto this (little itty bitty) stool” for the x-ray…! Well, there was no way I could do that. I had not brought my walker or crutches with
me – I had not been told I would need them and there was nothing for me to grab
hold of, to put my weight on so I could LIFT myself into that position. Finally, the aides there were “helping” me
get up but they were so inept that I inadvertently wound up putting my FULL
WEIGHT on the broken leg! I SCREAMED,
and nearly passed out, but hyperventilated instead. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Finally, though I was in the right place and
I stood there, stony faced and ANGRY.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There was NO REASON I should have had to endure that.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I also asked to be brought to the offices of Yad Sarah. Yad Sarah is an organization in Israel that
helps to provide medical equipment and supplies to patients who need them. They actually do it for free, but one must
pay a nominal fee to borrow an item – a fee which is reimbursed to the patient
upon return of the borrowed items. I
needed crutches as I had thought only to procure a walker prior to the
surgery. I knew I would need the
crutches to learn how to navigate stairs.
An aide brought me down to the Yad Sarah office where I not only
arranged to borrow a pair of crutches, but I also arranged for purchase and
delivery of a showering chair. I could
not borrow one as they did not have the kind that would be good for my needs
and that would fit in my bathtub or shower!
It was not so expensive (about $63 USD) and when I no longer need it I
will likely donate it to a “gemach” here on the Yishuv in which I live (a
Gemach is similar to the Yad Sarah service but they do not always require a
deposit for borrowing. A Yishuv is a
village.). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Later that afternoon, my surgeon came by and told me that he
saw the x-rays and told me “they are PERFECT” and “you can go home tomorrow”. Of course, I was ecstatic about the return
home but still worried about the issue of the stairs. There is a double set of wide stone stairs
that leads (down) to my home. I still
had not learned how to manage them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The next day, in the morning, the PT came by and I told him
he had to teach me to use the crutches and do stairs. He brought me to the PT room and began to
teach me. In the hospital the PT is
allotted only twenty minutes to spend with each patient. He stayed with me for a half hour. It was TERRIBLE. I absolutely could NOT manage the stairs. Believe me, I tried hard. So hard that I was
DRIPPING sweat, I was SOAKED with sweat.
In the end, I collapsed, crying.
I finally realized that I was going to have to ask for a couple of
friends to physically help me down the stairs to my home. My very good friend Moshe Fuld came. Upon arrival home I discovered that my memory
had been faulty and that there actually was a railing on the stairs, albeit on
only one side. Using one crutch and the
railing I was able to make it down. At the point where the staircase took a
turn, the railing disappeared. My friend
Moshe was my “railing”. I leaned on him for each step the rest of the way
(about 6 steps). It turned out not to be
as bad as I had feared. But I knew that
would not be able to manage the stairs inside my house – a half a flight down
to the laundry area, guest room, and more importantly, my office. I spoke to my son in law and just this
morning he moved my computer and phone upstairs to a corner of the salon. It is not ideal but it will suffice until
such time as I am able to manage the stairs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And this is where I am at now…I am home. Figuring things out, best ways and means of accomplishing my daily tasks, managing my pain, etc. </span></div>
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Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-31264509969555811692012-12-26T02:53:00.002-05:002012-12-26T02:53:38.747-05:00I fell through a big hole...<br />
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<br /></div>
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Baruch Hashem, I am blessed with much intelligence, and a
reasonableness that enables me to weather the vicissitudes of Israeli life,
both socially and professionally, and most importantly in my dealings with any
or all of the bureaucratic “systems” in place here. I place the word
“systems” in quotes, because quite honestly, I do not see any real
system. The words “streamlined processes” are not heard here, and have no
meaning here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was prepared to accept all this. But my most recent
experience tells me that there is much change needed. I think a Patient’s
Rights should also be about being treated with dignity and respect and about
there being open lines of communication between the various “parts” of the
“system” which the Patient is required to navigate when in need of
medical care. Perhaps my having grown up in the US where processes are
streamlined, where everything seems happen smoothly and seamlessly has spoiled
me. The health care system in the US, while unaffordable and unattainable
for many (Obamacare notwithstanding), is at least streamlined and patients are
treated carefully, and lines of communication appear to be more open and
used. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here is my story: (it is long, but please read to the
end. The issues I raise have to do with both the bureaucracy of the
financial aspects (Sharap/Kupah) and with the lines of communications between
doctors.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made aliyah in August 2011. About six months ago I
began a search for an orthopedic surgeon who could correctly diagnose and treat
a leg deformity of mine that was causing me pain. The first two
doctors I saw, with hafnayot from my family doctor, were unable to do
this. I then, on my own, searched out a top notch doctor – by looking
through the Hadassah profiles of medical personnel. I found Professor
Meir Liebergall, who is the head of Orthopedic Surgery in Hadassah. I
contacted him and described my problem. He then put me in touch with Dr.
Vladimir Goldman. Dr. Goldman is the head of Limb Lengthening and
Deformities. Within two weeks I had an appointment with Dr.
Goldman. He was very thorough in his examination of me, even accompanying
me to the X-ray department to provide oversight for the x-rays he requested –
he wanted to be sure they x-rayed exactly to his specifications.
His diagnosis was spot on and he then requested a CT scan. For that I
needed a hitchayvut. A request was sent to Maccabi via my family doctor
for the hitchayvut. It was initially denied, requiring my family doctor
to supply more information, and then it was approved. I took the hafnaya
and hitchayvut and went for the CT scan. Even though I had gone to the
wrong Hadassah center, the personnel there were nice and arranged for me to
have the CT scan there – right then and there! I was , as you can
imagine, quite impressed with this. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I then made an appt. with Dr. Goldman for a follow up to
review the CT Scan. It was at that time that I met Professor Meir
Liebergall who was providing oversight for Dr. Goldman. Together, the
three of us looked at the CT scans and Dr. Goldman explained everything to me
and then described the surgery to correct the deformity. I remember being
a bit shocked initially as I learned the scope of the surgery – it would
involve making two cuts to the bone – one long vertical cut and one short
horizontal one. The bone(s) would be moved into the correct place, and
pins inserted to hold them together which would then be screwed to an external
device – a Taylor Spatial Frame. I would wear this frame on my right
lower leg for three months. I agreed to have the surgery. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About a month later I was given a date for the
surgery: December 25, 2012. That was four months out at that
point. I immediately was in touch with the Sharap office of
Hadassah Medical Center, as I knew that since I had chosen a private doctor, I
would need to make my arrangements for payment through Sharap. It was my
understanding that if I chose a private doctor, my kupah (Maccabi Magen Zahav)
would cover a portion of it (less than if I chose a non-private doctor) and I
would have to pay the balance out of pocket. Sharap informed me that
everything would happen a few days before the surgery. I then explained
to them that I needed to know sooner the amount my share would be as I would
need to make arrangements to get that money in hand to pay it. They
understood and told me they would be in contact with my kupah to ascertain what
that amount would be and they would be in touch with me. BTW, I wear
hearing aids and using the phone is VERY difficult for me, in English which is
my native language, and impossible in Hebrew which is not. Throughout all
this I succeeded in requesting and receiving all communications via
email. In this, the service was good. Shortly thereafter, Sharap
informed me that they had been in touch with Maccabi, and that my share of the
payment would be 5,491 NIS. At this point Maccabi was now aware, that
I , Rachel Stern, a participant in their Magen Zahav supplemental coverage, was
scheduled to have surgery on December 25, 2012, with Dr. Vladimir Goldman, as
the primary surgeon. There were no secrets here. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made the arrangements necessary to ensure I would have the
money available to pay for my share of the surgery. I put all the wheels
in motion arranging things in both my personal and professional life to
accommodate up to three weeks of being “out of commission”. And
then I waited. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About three months before the surgery, I took ill. It
started as a cold, turned into a sinus infection, and then wound up as
bronchitis. This has been a normal pattern for me with regard to upper
respiratory infections/illness. For about 25 years of my life I was
exposed to second hand smoke by my mother who was and still is a heavy smoker.
I have always felt that it is this that made me susceptible to upper
respiratory infection. I usually wind up with bronchitis, and a cough
that lingers. Only this time, it lingered far longer. I saw that
the cough would likely be with me at the time of the surgery. I was very
concerned. I felt that it could be dangerous for me, with regard to general
anesthesia. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
EVERY DOCTOR I saw on my way to the date of the surgery was
informed by me that I would be having this surgery. I asked every doctor
about this issue. Every doctor informed me that it would not be a
problem. I emailed my surgeon and told him about my cough.
He, too, assured me this would not be a problem. My family doctor, the
pulmonologist, the ENT, my surgeon, all knew about my coughing. I had
done bloodwork, x-rays, eeg, ekg, spirometry, and other bedikot – all either as
routine in preparation for the surgery, or in effort to cure the cough (or both).
On Monday, December 17<sup>th</sup> I went to Hadassah to the pre-op
clinic for a pre-op workup. There I met a nurse, an anesthesiologist, and
an orthopedic doctor. I told EACH one about the cough and asked if it
would pose a problem. Each one assured me that it should not.
I saw them writing things down in my charts and forms (albeit in Hebrew) and I
assumed they were making notes about the cough as well. I still am not
sure if they did so or not. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day before I went to the pre-op clinic I was informed by
Sharap that Maccabi would NOT cover my surgery. They were claiming that on the
day of my surgery I would be six days shy of one year of participation in Magen
Zahav. I immediately understood what had happened. When I
arrived in Israel, at the airport I chose Maccabi as my kupah. About a
week later, I attended a NBN klita fair in Jerusalem. Maccabi had a booth
at the fair and I went over to it and sat down with a Maccabi
representative. She and I discussed the options for supplemental health
insurance and I ultimately choose to sign on for Magen Zahav. I filled
out the forms and went home, feeling secure in the knowledge that I was
“covered”. A couple of months later I was sick and needed some
medication. I had gone to the Maccabi pharmacy to purchase the needed
medication (prescription). When the price was stated to me I was taken
aback at the cost and said as much to the pharmacist. His reply to me
was, “Well, if you participated in Magen Zahav, it would be less
expensive”. I explained to him that I was indeed a participant and he
double checked and said, “No you are not, according to the computer”. I
then went to the Maccabi office to check this out. I was told that I had
never been signed up. The woman who helped me signed me up right then and
there. I erroneously thought I was signed up “retroactively”. Hence, by
my reckoning I was in my second year of participation for the surgery, but by
Maccabi’s I was six days shy. Sharap told me I would have to go into the
Maccabi office and request a “kitzur” of my account. This I did and was
told I would need to write a letter to Magen Surgery to ask for this.
This I did (in Hebrew with the help of two friends). On December 18<sup>th</sup>
I sent the letter to Magen Surgery. This was just 7 days before my
surgery! Two days later, I received the response from Magen Surgery that
they would forgive me the six days and would cover the surgery. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That same day, I received a call from Sharap, again telling
me that Maccabi would not cover the surgery. This time the reason
give was that Dr. Goldman was a “private doctor” and they would not cover him.
I would have to choose a different doctor. I argued, unsuccessfully, that
they had known this since FOUR MONTHS AGO, I was given an amount based on them
covering him, and that at the last minute they should not be changing their
tune. Finally, I turned to Dr. Goldman and explained what was going
on. Dr. Goldman then told me to give Maccabi the name of the doctor who
would be assisting him in the surgery, Dr. Naum Simanovsky. This I did, and
Maccabi agreed to cover him. By the time I got this resolved it was
Thursday afternoon, just four days before the surgery. Now suddenly, the
amount of my share rose by 2000 NIS. As you can imagine I was none too
pleased to discover this. However, I decided to suck it up and just pay
it. I had been told I could pay it the day of my surgery. (I had
also explained to them that I was paying in CASH (mezumanim). (Let’s
leave out of this story WHY I was doing that). <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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On Monday, the day before the surgery, at 4 PM I get a call
from Sharap that I have to come in right away and pay. Well, even though
I have a car, I could NOT just drop everything (my grandchildren whom I was
babysitting) to go to Sharap. So Sharap tells me that if I am paying that
day, then my surgery is being moved from first thing in the morning, to the
third slot. Of course I was not happy about this. I wanted to have my
surgery early, when my surgeon would be alert, fresh and awake. Again, I
turned directly to my surgeon (he is a real mensch, by the way) and informed
him of what was happening. He assured me my surgery would take place on
time. I should show up at 6:30 am as planned. This I did, and my
sister came and met me there. First I was sent down to the Miyun Kabbalat
Cholim where I paid for my surgery – 5,491 NIS in cash! Then I returned
to the fifth floor. Everything happened very quickly. I was given gowns
to change into, placed on a gurney and wheeled to the OR. I was in the
prep room in front of the OR and already hooked up to an IV. We
were waiting for the anesthesiologist. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now before I tell you what happened next I want to refer to
my state of mind. I was very nervous, very anxious, and scared. I
was about to go under anesthesia which can be dangerous under the best of
conditions, and my leg was about to be cut open, cut in the bone, and metal
screws inserted into me. I would wake up in pain, and on PCA Morphine
(Patient controlled analgesia, morphine). In the days that led up to this
point I was stressed to the max in my dealings with Sharap and Maccabi –
dealings which to my mind could have been taken care of MONTHS in
advance. All the information that Maccabi need to process my
coverage, they had from the very beginning. None of it was hidden or
secret. But they chose to deal with my account only days before the
surgery, needlessly stressing me out when I was already stressing with worry
over the actual upcoming surgery. Now, I was sitting on a gurney, a
black mark on my leg (courtesy of my surgeon), a white bracelet on my right
wrist, and a catheter and IV hooked into my left hand. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The anesthesiologist arrived. He was none other than
Dr. Alex Avidan, Senior Anesthesiologist. I coughed. And then I
coughed some more. He questioned me about the cough. He was
frowning. This was not good. I told him everything about the cough that I
had told all the other doctors I had seen on my way to that point!
He then went and had a conversation with Dr. Goldman. He came back
to talk to me. He told me “he is very worried about that cough”. He told
me that he did want to put me under General Anesthesia. It was too
dangerous with that cough. I asked about regional anesthesia. He
said it was an option but not a good one. Why? Because if, G-d forbid,
anything were to happen, he might have to administer General Anesthesia, and
again, that would not be good. So, long story short, the surgery was not
performed. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I did ask, ALL the doctors that were there – WHY was
this not addressed sooner? My coughing was not a secret. I told everyone
about it. I asked if it were a problem. Why did it have to wait until I
was sitting on the gurney, butt naked except for a flimsy hospital gown,
already hooked up to an IV, just minutes away from having the surgery to learn
that it was NOT okay?? From beginning to end the lack of communication along
all lines from Sharap to Maccabi, from doctor to doctor, FAILED. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is no way for a patient to be treated. Patients
are already stressed out, worrying about their health and trying to take care
of themselves. I had wanted to spend most of the week before my surgery
relaxing and calming myself down so I could go into surgery, and under
anesthesia in a good state of mind. I know how crucial this is to
healing. It is one of the great intangibles of health care, that costs
nothing, is for patients to be able to “self heal” using various methods of
positive imagery, calming and de-stressing, and of course, laughter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout this entire ordeal I tried to remain calm.
I tried not to stress too much. But by the time I was on that
gurney, I was stressed to the max. And then, MY concerns were
confirmed and the surgery did not take place. I now have to figure out how
to get rid of this cough – which to date has stymied everyone – my family
doctor, my ENT, and the pulmonologist. I will be seeing an allergist
soon. Dr. Avidan says I must be 8 weeks cough free to have the
surgery. I will have to go through this process ALL OVER again,
needlessly! I will once again have to make accommodations in both my
personal and professional life to accommodate a new surgery date. I have
plans to move this summer, and now I have no idea if and how all this will
happen. (I HAVE to move, I will no longer be able to afford to remain where I
have been living for the past year and a half.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not know if sharing my story will have any impact
whatsoever. I do not even know with whom I could or should share it that it
would make an impact. But what I just went through is something that NO
PATIENT should have to go through. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think my doctors are terrific doctors. I have asked
for and received the promise that Dr. Alex Avidan will be my anesthesiologist
when my surgery is re-scheduled. He is a doctor who CARES. I was
blessed to have him come to me. Dr. Goldman is a mensch of the highest sort, an
amazing person. Everyone I dealt with – doctors, nurses, people in
Sharap, people at my kupah, were all wonderful. But that does not make up
for the huge gap, the huge canyon, through which I fell. <o:p></o:p></div>
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-30958207626215722712012-12-21T04:42:00.001-05:002012-12-21T04:42:16.542-05:00Jumping through the hoops of the health care system in Israel...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I go in for my surgery on Tuesday and I am nervous as
hell. The process of getting my surgery
to be paid for by my insurance, here in Israel, has been rather daunting. Just so you all understand: I am from the US and I moved to Israel just
over a year ago. In the US even though
health insurance is ridiculously expensive, and does not cover enough of costs,
it is a remarkably streamlined process which can be effectuated months in
advance and can take a few days to get set.
Here the process is NOT streamlined in the least and everything takes
place at the "last minute".
That can be quite hairy for someone who may not have enough moolah to cover
anything that may not be covered. So
here is how it panned out for me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It was about six months ago that I initiated the process of
diagnosis and getting recommendations for correcting the issue. As soon as I learned it would take surgical
intervention, I agreed to the surgery and began to put the wheels into motion
to enable it. First, I had to wait to
receive a date for the surgery. That
took about a month of waiting and it was scheduled for December 25th - four
months out from the time I received the date.
I immediately asked what the procedure was for getting it covered by my
kupah (health insurance). I was told
that since my surgeon is a "private practitioner" I would need to
contact the "Sharap" office at Hadassah Hospital, where my surgery would
take place, and the Sharap office would be in touch with my kupah and then they
would contact me. But, I was told I
would not know anything until a few days before the surgery!!! At that point I explained that I needed to
know at the very least how much my share of the cost would be, due to the fact
that my funds are tied up in the States and it would take me some time to
arrange for the release of the funds to pay for it. So Sharap understood and contacted my kupah
and got me the info. In effect, they
"neogiated" with my kupah about this.
Ok, fine. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last week, I was contacted by Sharap and told that my kupah
was refusing to cover the surgery because I was not a participant in their Gold
plan for a full year -- I would be shy by SIX DAYS on the day of the
surgery! That is by THEIR reckoning, not
by MY reckoning – what happened is this:
when I arrived in Israel, just off the plane, I was met by an agent from
the Jewish Agency and told to choose a health insurance provider. I had done some research before I arrived and
I chose Maccabi. Then, a week later I attended
the NBN Klita Fair in Jerusalem. I knew
there would be a booth there for Maccabi and I would be able to select a
supplemental health coverage plan. I
went to the Maccabi booth, sat with a Maccabi representative and chose Maccabi
Magen Zahav. I filled out the forms, and then went about my way, feeling secure
in the knowledge that I was covered. I had been assured that all my info would
be “put into the system” the very next day.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A couple of months later, I was ill and needed prescription
medicine. I went to the Maccabi Pharmacy
to fill the prescription. The price
seemed rather steep and I said as much to the pharmacist. His reply to me was “If you were a Magen
Zahav participant it would not be so expensive”. I told him that I am indeed a participant in
Magen Zahav. He double checked and no I was not. So I went down to the Maccabi
office to find out what was going on.
There, I spoke to a lovely woman named Nochi (just so you know, I have
found EVERYONE in the Maccabi office in Modi’in to be exceedingly nice and
helpful). She confirmed that I was NOT a
participant and there was no indication that I had ever signed up. But she signed me up right then and there. I erroneously thought my participation would
be counted as retroactive from when I signed up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">So, back to Sharap informing me that Maccabi would not cover
it due to my being six days shy of a full year of participation in Magen
Zahav. The Sharap office suggested that
I needed to go into the Maccabi office and ask them for a “kitzur” of my
account (shortening of it) to allow me to have the surgery and for them to
cover it. This I did, that very evening.
(Yes, they have evening hours!) There, I
was told I needed to write a letter explaining all this and requesting the
kitzur. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With the help of friends I wrote a letter which I then sent
to Maccabi Surgery. It was an excellent
letter, even my surgeon said so when I shared it with him. It did the trick and Maccabi agreed to cover
the surgery. Great! Or so I
thought. That same day, I was contacted
by Maccabi and told that they will NOT cover the surgery because the doctor I
chose is a “private practitioner”. I was
kind of surprised (although not so much because now, I was used to expecting
the other shoe to drop!). I told them
that I had addressed that issue by dealing the Sharap office which had already
been in touch with Maccabi and had already negotiated the fees. It was to no avail. So, I explained this to my surgeon, not
knowing what else to do. Maccabi wanted
me to choose another doctor – and I would NOT do that. My surgeon is the top doctor in the field and
I trust him implicitly. I would not
choose any other doctor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, he came to my rescue.
He told me that another doctor who will be assisting him would be the
name we would give to Maccabi. Maccabi
would cover him. So, I did give that
name to Maccabi and sure enough they agreed to cover him. I suspect this is a game that is routinely
played by the doctors and insurance companies here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But now, Maccabi requires a new hafnaya (referral) naming
the new doctor. Again, I turned to my
surgeon who told me “No problem, we will get a hafnaya to them on Sunday.” Mind you, my surgery is now four days away
and on Sunday will be two days. When I
was told initially that everything gets arranged at the last minute, I realize
now that was the honest truth!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Personally, I think it is a very bad way of doing
things. An individual who is facing
major surgery, scary and painful surgery is already stressed out about that and
working hard to be calm, relaxed, and positive – which is crucial when one is
about to undergo anesthesia and surgery – does not need the added stress of
worrying about whether or not the surgery will be covered by their kupah at the
very last minute! It is something that
should be worked out WELL in advance of any surgery that is PLANNED. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In any case, it appears that everything is working out as it
should and as always I give my thanks to Hashem for His hand in it. I know he is orchestrating much of this for
me! </span></div>
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-67503786703049946632012-12-04T15:18:00.001-05:002012-12-04T15:18:42.558-05:00Fitting In<br />
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<a href="http://www.google.com/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://anatbaron.com/wp-content/uploads/wichita-fitting-in.jpg&sa=X&ei=RFq-UKjgKMnD0QXj84HgDQ&ved=0CAkQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNG0-lKDoHcVOuEi9UcT9htLsy7G-A" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://www.google.com/url?source=imglanding&ct=img&q=http://anatbaron.com/wp-content/uploads/wichita-fitting-in.jpg&sa=X&ei=RFq-UKjgKMnD0QXj84HgDQ&ved=0CAkQ8wc&usg=AFQjCNG0-lKDoHcVOuEi9UcT9htLsy7G-A" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Last night I went to a Bar Mitzvah. It was lovely and I truly enjoyed myself,
with the exception of the thirty minutes I spent coughing!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It is interesting.
When I lived in ---, I wanted so desperately to "fit in"
and to be accepted. I have had trouble "fitting in" most of my
life. It is due, in part, to my hearing
loss which rendered me at times "socially inept". Speaking out of turn, or out of context,
mis-communications or simply missing communications would do that to me. But one would think that as an adult I would
not have such problems. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But --- is a suburb of NY and thus, in a way, part of
the greater NY metropolitan area. People
in that area of NY and NJ tend to be more snobby, more clique-y. Barry and I were very active in our community,
we were founding members, literally of our shul and involved in many of the
shul efforts and activities. But, that
did not buy my acceptance into that society. For the most part, I was snubbed
by many of the members of the shul, in particular the "rich"
people. I saw it, felt it, but for the
most part, I ignored it. To my way of
thinking, if I ignored it, I would not give it any validity or credence. But, that did not mean I did not feel it,
that did not mean I was not hurt by it. I was.
Deeply. My late husband also saw
it. For himself he did not really
care. He had never really concerned
himself with fitting in, because growing up he DID fit in, easily. He did not have the social issues that I had
growing up which later made social acceptance so important for me. He and I did not speak of it much, he had
the same attitude about validating it as I did.
But he did speak of it with his sister, Karen. She told me, after his
death, that he told her how much he loved me and how it pained him to see me
treated with disrespect by the snobby members of our shul. Since Barry died and since I moved away from
---, I actually became closer to one woman there, who, like me, has been
"shunned" by the snobby members of the "rich elite". Barry and she were close when he was alive
but she and I were like oil and water back then. But now we are close. We are very alike in
many ways. I have spoken with her about
this issue of my "fitting in" in ---, and she agreed with me that
we have been snubbed. So I know I am not
imagining it, I have not imagined that I have been slighted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I moved to --- not knowing a soul and I had talked
myself into "not caring" if I would be accepted or not. Of course, it was a lie to myself because of
course, I did want to be accepted. But I needed not to have worried -- I was
welcomed with open arms by everyone, without reservation, without judgment, and
without care for my socio-economic status. It was a totally new experience for
me and I enjoyed it. But I also
considered it to be anomalous within the religious Jewish community at large. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After living in --- for 14 months, I made aliyah to
Israel and went to live in Hashmonaim.
For most of my first year here, I have not really felt a "part of
the community", but just living in the midst of one. I did not feel snubbed, I did not feel
disrespected. At times I felt
disconnected or even forgotten, but not snubbed, and not disrespected. However, I am now in my second year here and
I have been noticing that I am feeling more a part of the community, in a way I
had not felt before. I find that people
come up to me to converse with me and include me in their discussions. It is very nice. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Last night I went to the Bar Mitzvah with a certain
amount of trepidation. I knew it would
be a big, fancy affair and that many of the attendees to the event would be
from the wealthier people on the Yishuv.
I wondered if I would experience the same snobbery I experienced when I
would attend these type events back in ---.
In ---, I would find that women would either ignore me, or talk over
or around me, or more directly, titter at me.
I remember the despair I would feel when I was in those situations,
especially if there were separate seating.
I knew that last night's affair would not be separate seating, but then
I was also going it alone, without a spouse, so it really made no real
difference to me. In --- I would
find that I would be seated with people who were the "odd ones out"
rather than with my true peers. It was
very hurtful for me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Well, last night I arrived at the event, and the host of the party was very happy that I showed up. There
was at first a sumptuous smorgasbord and the inevitable mingling and
schmoozing. I used to keep to myself during the mingling and schmoozing parts
of these events. Last night, I could not
have done that had I wanted to. I found myself mingling and schmoozing, and
WELCOMED into the little discussion groups that sprang up here and there
throughout the hall. It was a very nice
sensation, to know that I was not being snubbed. Then it came time to be seated at our tables.
I was assigned to Table Five and wondered who I would be seated with. I found myself seated with people I know,
amongst couples rather than amongst the "odd ones out". I was included in all the conversations, and
in fact, asked to tell the story of my "amazing reunion" with Judy
M - I had attended ulpan in 1977 with her and her twin sister -- I
believe I wrote about this. I was
invited to sit at other tables to schmooze in between courses. When I went through my thirty minute long
bout of coughing, I was made to feel the concern of others -- for ME, and not
for themselves. A high point of the night was when I returned to the table from
the ladies room and suddenly all the women got flustered. Why? Because they all thought I had left for the
night and had given my shawl which I had left on the chair to another woman to
take back home with her to give to me the next day! It was very funny and it turned out that she
had not left after all and one of the women went sprinting after her (in HEELS)
to get my shawl. I followed her and we
all had a good laugh about it. It was a
laugh of inclusion and it felt SO GOOD TO ME!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #0c343d; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I know I am going on a bit about something that is really much ado about
nothing. But for me, after YEARS of
trying to fit in and finally feeling like I do, it is not nothing, but very
much a lot of something!! </span>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-47251102746149579502012-10-10T13:15:00.004-04:002012-10-10T13:15:40.843-04:00Powerful Women<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This morning I participated in a meeting of a group of women. It is a group of </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">women formed originally on Facebook. The group was formed to allow the women </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in the group to enjoy morning and afternoon chats with friends around a nice, warm </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">cup of coffee. (The idea being that we are each enjoying a cup of coffee while we </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">are chatting on Facebook!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This meeting was to take the virtual concept out of the group and to make it into </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">reality. We would all be able to meet one another face to face and get a better sense </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of with whom we were interacting online. It was a success!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are all English speaking olim, some who have been living in Israel for many </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">years, others (myself) who have been here just over a year, various ages, from </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">various places in the US, and different backgrounds. We are all religious Zionist </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jews. The one thing that did come out, that I found rather interesting, is that many </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of us, if not most of us, write. We write either professionally, or for fun. It should </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">not actually be all that surprising, since after all, the main (only?) mode of </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">communication on Facebook is TYPING (the modern day form of writing – I no </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">longer do longhand writing – due to lack of practice it has been rendered </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ILLEGIBLE!). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Each woman in turn introduced herself to the group and told her “life story” – or at </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">least the salient points of her life, those which were apparently important enough to </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">her to warrant sharing with the group. I learned so much this morning. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Several “salient points” were drilled home in this meeting to me. Most are concepts </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">which I have already formed and this morning’s meeting simply lent more credence </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to those concepts. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Everyone has a story. For many years I have often believed in the “first impression </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">is a lasting impression” credo. There is truth to it, and it has guided my choices in </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">dress and appearance, in particular for job interviews or first dates. It still guides me </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">somewhat. However, I no longer use it to judge OTHERS. These days, I (try) to </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">make no judgments about other individuals until I have heard their story. I must </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">have become pretty good at listening, or at getting others to open up to me, because </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">these days I seem to COLLECT stories. I can point to nearly every person I know </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and say, “that person has a story. It is sad”, or “it is amazing”, or “it is inspiring”, or </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“it is laughable”. And, knowing these stories, each person is very real to me, very </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">dear to me, and I am able to thus empathize and to CARE. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Miracles do happen. But we cannot just sit back and ask for a miracle. We have to </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">do our part, our hishtadlus. Then, Hashem will shower miracles on us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hashgacha Pratis, closely related to miracles is evident in nearly every facet of our </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">lives. One of the participants in the meeting described a particularly amazing piece </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of Hashgacha Pratis which she experienced. I too, have had NUMEROUS amazing </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">experiences of Hashgacha Pratis in my life. There are no coincidences, unless by </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">coincidence one means “an act of G-d”! (My list of Hashgacha Pratis can be a blog </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">entry in itself (or several!)). </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The last concept that I felt was strongly supported by this meeting is the concept of </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“powerful women”. Let me explain:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back in the 80’s and 90’s I had my own business. It was a “woman owned” </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">business which was a “thing” back then. I remember I surrounded myself with other </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">women who either owned businesses or held positions of power – whether in </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">business, politics, or in civic organizations. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would attend meetings with these women and always came away from these </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">meetings feeling rejuvenated, alive, energetic, powerful, and just plain happy. I felt </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">validated both as a woman and as an individual.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After I sold my business and I returned to frumkeit, all of that kind of changed. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Maybe it was because I was not in the right place at the right time, I was not </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">exposed to women, and the kind of women I call “women’s women”. I think I might </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">have thought they did not exist in the frum world. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I joined the sisterhood at my parent’s shul. Every year the sisterhood would put on </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">a performance – a “musical” in honor of the kallot and banot mitzvah. The </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">performance used well known songs from well known musicals, only we changed </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the words to suit our needs. I had a lot of fun doing that. I also designed props and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">décor for the annual dinner for Chessed of New Square. I worked exclusively with </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">women in that effort. But it was not the same. It was enjoyable but very limited and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">limiting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I married Barry I felt like I had something to prove. I needed to prove that I </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">could manage a kosher home – keep it organized, clean, cook healthy and delicious </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">meals, and work full time as well. I would be a great mother, a great wife, and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">involved in our community. And, I DID all those things. Initially, I worked as the </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">registrar for the Bnei Akiva Mach Hach B’Aretz program, I was involved in our shul, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I chauffeured the kids to and from after school programs, and I cooked healthy </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">meals for dinner (we sat down as a family at the dinner table every day!). As far as </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the cleaning goes, I hired a cleaning woman. I loved my job. Even when I left Bnei </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Akiva and went to work for American Friends of Shalva I continued with all </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">aforementioned activities and I enjoyed my work. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But in the last two years before </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Barry died, something changed for me. I no longer was enjoying the job. I felt like I </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">was burnt out, I was listless, I had no energy and I had no relationship with G-d. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Something was wrong, and I knew it. I remember spending some time looking for </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">what I was missing – trying to daven with more kavanah, reading books that were </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">supposed to be inspirational, wanting to sign up for some shiurim (only all the </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">shiurim which I really wanted to sign up for were in the middle of my work day!). </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">None of this helped. I went to my doctor to be tested for I do not know what but </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nothing showed up. He gave me a Vitamin B shot. It did not really help much. By </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the time Barry died I felt wrung out. (A year after his death I would be even more </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">wrung out from the litigation to which I was unwillingly subjected.) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not once during my marriage to Barry was I able to find and be part of a group of </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“women’s women”. It certainly did not exist within the religious community in </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Teaneck. Most of the women in my age group, in my community, or rather in my </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">shul, did not work. They stayed home. They raised their kids. They fixed up their </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">houses. They remodeled their kitchens. They cooked fabulous (and costly) meals. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They went shopping at Riverside Square Mall which is the opposite of a discount </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">mall. I felt I had to compete with these women. The difference was, I worked. I </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">never felt like I really fit in. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After Barry died, and I moved to Baltimore, I encountered a completely different </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">group of people. There, I was accepted – immediately and without needing to prove </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to anyone who or what I was! There, I met several women, “women’s women”, with </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">whom I struck up close friendships. It so happens that several of those women </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">made aliyah and so I am thus able to continue my close friendship with them without </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">geography in the way!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Since making aliyah I have been growing my network of friends, acquaintances, co</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-workers, colleagues and even family, by leaps and bounds. Through this network I </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">was invited to join a special group of women. Meeting some of them this morning </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">awakened in me some of the spirit and energy that I find being with other women </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">opens up. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was my birthday recently and I invited a group of women to help me celebrate at a </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">restaurant one evening. There were ten of us at that celebration. Near the end of </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the evening one woman remarked to me that “all the women here are ‘powerful’ </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">women”! That is how I felt at the meeting this morning: we are all ‘powerful’ </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">women.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thank you all for being there with me.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-24559157846543141962012-10-05T03:56:00.001-04:002012-10-05T03:56:28.764-04:00Facebook and Linked In, Useful Social Media<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Usually when I meet a new person
with whom I wish to stay in touch I will ask for their email address, and I
will ask if they are on Facebook or Linked In.
Responses to these requests/questions will run along the lines of “I
will give you my phone number” or “I hardly use my email” or “Facebook? I have no time for Facebook” or “Linked
In? What is that?”.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">These responses are a cause for
anguish for me. Let me explain. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Remember the big “networking” fad
of the eighties? I do. Huge
“networking fairs” were organized. I was
invited to many at the time – I had my own business and it was a “thing” to be
a female business owner. I went to ONE
such event. Only one. Why?
Because it was a NOISY affair. I
was in a room with some 100 or more participants, everyone was talking, and I
simply could not hear what was being said to me. Due to my hearing impairment I could not
network. I remember despairing of the
ability to be even more successful than I already was. It was a bit of a blow to my self
esteem. I considered myself rather
socially adept despite the disability.
But in that environment – forget it.
And so I considered myself a lousy networker. That is factor one in my explanation. Read on.
You will get the point eventually. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> Growing up I used the phone with the same ease
as a hearing person. I was a regular
chatterbox, talking to my friends on the phone as a teenager. I used the phone both socially and
professionally. I had no hesitation when
faced with having to pick up the phone and place a call. Then, in the mid-90’s all that changed. No, my hearing had not changed. But technology did. Cordless, wireless, digital, cellular
technologies invaded the telecommunications industry. Phones were no longer all analog. In fact,
analog phones were going the way of dinosaurs.
Hearing aid technology was also
changing. HA’s were also using the same
technologies as telecommunications. BUT –
the changes were not occurring in tandem or with any kind of cooperation. Thus compatibility between hearing aids and
telephones, which were 100% between analog phones and analog aids, dropped to
nearly nil. Since then, it has gotten
better, but nowhere near the previous 100% rate. Not only that. Clarity of sound in analog technology is far
better than in digital technology. The
result of all this was that I lost the ability to use the phone with ease. I became MORE disabled as a result of
technological advances, not less disabled!
That is factor two in my explanation.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Along with the technological
advances in telecommunications came the internet explosion. Back in 1995 the internet was still raw, the
wild west of the technoworld. But I
recognized in it the possibility of replacement – I realized that instant
messaging and email could replace for me somewhat what I lost in using the
phone. It was then that I began using
email and IM as a replacement. Of
course, it was a limited replacement – many people still did not have email,
and were not using Instant Messaging (IM).
However, over the years, the usage of email and IM has grown exponentially. Now, nearly everyone I know has an email
address, and most people use IM some of the time. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Then along came Linked In and
Facebook. I joined Linked In first,
since in the beginning Facebook was not open to everyone. I did not see any immediate benefit to joining
Linked In but I stuck with it. As soon
as Facebook opened up to me, I joined.
Facebook gave me an immediate benefit. Suddenly, I was better able to
network socially. All the stuff I missed
in social interactions, the subtleties such as “overhearing” someone say this
or that, was right there in front of me, in print, in black and white! As Facebook improved over time, and as I grew
my social network on Facebook, my social ability also grew. It was quite amazing and gratifying for me!
After all these years of struggling socially, I suddenly felt as if I had
finally “come into my own”. In the
meantime, I was also quietly growing my Linked In network, and fine tuning my
professional profile on Linked In. I was
not finding it particularly useful and so long gaps of time would go by between
the times I would check in on my Linked In profile or network. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">After moving to Israel, and
spending some time fine tuning my Linked In profile further, I found that
suddenly, I was receiving more invitations to connect on Linked In and also was
invited to interview for jobs or invited to consult. It was quite amazing how Linked In has done
so much work for me since I am living in Israel. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Much of this is all thanks to
Hashem’s Hashgacha Pratis – but it is said that He helps those who help
themselves. I do my hishtadlus, and then
He helps me along. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">But I digress. Back to my introductory paragraph, wherein
which I describe encountering people who tell me they do not use Facebook or
Linked In. Not only that they tell me
they do not use those services, but many of them tell me this with a
disparaging tone, and say they “don’t have time for that kind of stuff” and
seem to indicate to me that Facebook in particular is a “waste of time”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">What I have attempted to do with
this little essay of mine is to explain to my readers why Facebook, for ME is
NOT a waste of time, and how Facebook (and Linked In) have improved my life,
both socially and professionally. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Both have provided me with a
network of friends, family, acquaintances, co-workers, employers or potential
employers, and professional relationships.
Those networks have allowed me to read and learn about what is going on in
the world, in my neighborhood, in my town, in my country, in other countries,
amongst my friends and family. Those networks
have allowed me post questions, requests, and information that may be
beneficial to those who read my posts.
Those networks have provided the ability for conversational discourse on
an infinite number of topics. While I know that the printed word cannot always
adequately convey the sense or context of a person’s emotions that the human
voice can, it is still a great
substitute for someone like myself. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">There are those who state that these new social
media are loaded with lies, lashon hora, and have great potential be
hurtful. They are correct. But that has been true of all media, for
MILLENIUM. The big difference is, I will
acknowledge, is that social media is immediate, explosive (exponential growth
or propagation of posts), and far more easily exploited. But just as one does not throw out the baby
with the bathwater, we should not dismiss the positive benefits of social
media. I believe Facebook and Linked In
have been extremely beneficial, not only to me and others like me, but to all
who use them. </span></span><br />
Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-64253762540031505452012-08-07T13:34:00.004-04:002012-08-07T13:34:46.910-04:00My pending surgeryThis is the story about the pending surgery on my right leg. Since my mid-20's I have experienced pain in my right hip, and later in my knees, but the right knee has always been worse than the left knee. However, I was able, for the most part, to remain active. <br />
<br />
In my mid-30's I began to find a need to curtail my activity due to the pain. I was not happy about it. It got worse as I got older and I found myself continually reducing the amount of activity I engaged in, with continuing unhappiness about it. <br />
<br />
Over the years, I saw various doctors about this -- chiropractors, rheumatologists, orthopedists -- with no real positive results. I was told it was "growing pains", "hip bursitis" and even that it was "probably arthritis" -- even though no arthritis showed up in the x-rays of my hips! <br />
<br />
Then, in 2010 I went to an orthopedic surgeon at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Dr. Janet Conway. She did a thorough examination and ordered x-rays. She then diagnosed me with an externally rotated tibia. It was the first time I had a diagnosis that actually fit and that I felt was correct. <br />
<br />
She suggested surgery to correct it but also suggested I try PT first. I did the PT for three months, and was very good about doing the exercises at home as well. It was to no avail. I did not do the surgery with her, because by the time it would have been scheduled I would already be in Israel, as per my aliyah plans. So, I decided to shelve the surgery until after I was settled in Israel and to pursue it there. Besides, in the States I was paying $500 per month for health insurance that would not have covered even most of the cost of the surgery -- I doubt I could have afforded it there!<br />
<br />
After being in Israel for several months I put out requests for recommendations for orthopedic surgeons. The first one I saw told me that surgery could not fix my problems. The second one I saw told me I was "too old" to fix this problem! Finally, I was in touch with Professor Liebergall. He heads up the orthopedic surgery dept. at Hadassah hospital. He told me to see Dr. Vladimir Goldman - he heads up the deformities and limb lengthening unit of the Orthopedic surgery department. <br />
<br />
I made an appt. with Dr. Goldman and on my first visit with him I was very impressed. Like Dr. Conway, he was very thorough, and even came with me and provided oversight for the x-rays he ordered. Then he ordered a CT scan. <br />
<br />
After I had the results of the CT scan, I went back to see Dr. Goldman, and this time with Prof. Liebergall as well. They showed me the pictures from the CT scan and I was so amazed. So detailed! Anyway, it showed a definite rotational deformity of the tibia as well as a minute bowing out of my leg. Additionally, due to the arthritis in my knee, caused by the rotation of the tibia, my right leg is definitely shorter than my left one. <br />
<br />
Dr. Goldman suggested surgery. He told me it will require two cuts to the tibial bones, one lateral and one vertical. Then screws will be inserted and I will wear a halo type thing on my right leg, around the upper shin bones. I will wear it for three months, during which time I will have to make "adjustments" to the frame myself. I will be mobile, it allows for weight bearing, and I can walk -- but I will be unable to drive. <br />
<br />
So, it is really happening. Dr. Goldman wrote the letter and the hafnaya (referral/prescription). Now, I wait for a date - he said likely to be after January. Once I get the date, I go to my kupah and request a hitchayvut, which is like a combo isshur (permission) and havtacha (promise (to pay)). I may have to fight for it but I am not worried about that right now. I will deal with it as it happens. <br />
<br />
I am nervous -- not so much about the surgery itself as much as about the pain involved. I am scared of that. I hope I will not be too much of a bitch during my recovery...<br />
<br />
<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-89609772087321341202012-07-27T09:00:00.001-04:002012-07-27T09:00:20.445-04:00Nine Days I have a good life, really and truly I do. But a few things "went wrong" for me during these past couple of weeks. One thing that went wrong is that my kupah (health insurance) for some reason initially rejected a request made for a "hitchayvut" (permission, guarantee of coverage) for a CT scan ordered by my orthopedic surgeon. It was later corrected. I have yet to make the appointment though, and the procrastination is yet another thing that "went wrong". <br />
<br />
I made the mistake too, of scheduling my driving test during these two weeks. Sure enough, I failed -- 525 NIS down the drain. I failed not because I had done anything wrong. I failed because the tester failed to inform me in time to make a left turn and I was continuing straight as we are supposed to do unless told to turn. He, of course, is not owning up to the mistake and well, just another thing that "went wrong". <br />
<br />
I was supposed to participate in a Shabbaton this Shabbat with another person. She sent me an email at 2 pm in which she wrote she is "rethinking her plans..." and she "decided not to go". But she was referring to a different plan, not the plan we made to attend the Shabbaton. But I completely misunderstood her, since there was no explicit reference, and I thought she was cancelling attending the Shabbaton. I shot off an angry email to her, and then she called me. After some heated discussion, we straightened out the misunderstanding but I had already made alternative plans, so I am not going with her. She is not happy going alone. But I had already "psyched" myself into the change of plans being for the better - saving me 300 NIS which I will now have to use for the next driving test. Either way we look at this it is something else that "went wrong". <br />
<br />
It is the Nine Days, folks! Nine Days of things going wrong, of tragic events, of misunderstandings leading to "sinas chinam" - usually translated as "baseless hatred". We need to be on our guard, on our best behavior during this time. Hashem is sending us all form of nisayonot (trials). We must be aware, on high alert!<br />
<br />
And we are supposed to be sad, very sad. After all, it was due to all these things that we lost a gift, a treasure, the Temple was destroyed, twice - on Tisha B'Av, which technically falls on Shabbat, and thus is observed on Sunday, the day after Shabbat.<br />
<br />
May we all have an easy and meaningful fast and may we all be zocheh to witness the coming of Moshiach, in OUR day!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-32214104487722476212012-06-01T08:23:00.001-04:002012-06-01T08:23:21.832-04:00Acceptance with graceI have been told by many people upon hearing my stories of my life and all that I have experienced that I should write a book about my life. I have always shrugged them off, with the thinking that yes, it is nice to be validated in this way, but no, I do not have what it takes to write a book. Besides, to my mind, a book a person writes about their own life should have a point - a conclusion, a lesson to share with readers. My life is far from over (I hope), and I have been hard pressed to know what the lesson is that I must share. <br />
<br />
More recently, it was suggested to me that my story is a "cautionary tale" for other women either entering into, or considering entering into, or even already entered into marriage with a man for whom it is his second marriage, a man who has an ex-wife with an ax to grind and children from a first marriage who believe their lives are "a priori" for their father. However, I shook my head and said that I could not do that. My reason now was that so doing would be to negate Hashem's plan for me, for my life. <br />
<br />
I have come to conclusion, albeit not easily and not happily, that where I am in my life is where Hashem wanted me to be. I had to endure some nasty moments in my life to get here. I am living a good life. Is it perfect? No. Perfect, if such a thing exists, would to my mind, mean I was married, that I had a husband. But I am living in Eretz Yisrael. I am close to my daughter, son in law, grandchildren, sister, nieces and nephews, and friends -- all here. <br />
<br />
Apparently, I merited to come to Israel and to live here. I get chills when I think about this. <br />
<br />
I have frequently said that I have witnessed G-d's hand in my life - every time some amazingly good thing happens, every time events appear to be fortuitous, every time a seemingly random happenstance that makes everything work out just perfect, I say it was "hashgacha pratis" - divine providence, the hand of G-d, orchestrating my life. But when the bad things happen I have not said that, I have gotten angry, upset, resentful. Perhaps because I believe in a G-d that is good, that is benevolent, I have problems attributing to Him even the bad stuff that happens in my life. Additionally, if I were to admit that it comes from Him, then I would also have to admit a shortcoming in myself - because G-d would not give me "bad gifts" if I did not deserve them. Although, there is a fallacy in that thinking as well. Perhaps G-d "shakes up my world" at times, to force me to pay attention, or to learn a lesson, or to change one or some of my ways. Lately, however, I am trying to change my attitude and the way I view these things. EVERYTHING is from Hashem, the good and the bad, and I have to learn to accept ALL of them with grace. THAT is the lesson I am taking from my life thus far. <br />
<br />
Shabbat Shalom!Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-77801904225149851802012-05-16T12:12:00.002-04:002012-05-16T12:12:26.773-04:00In pursuit of pain-free activity...I have something called "external tibial torsion" in my right leg. That means the tibia of my right leg is rotated externally. In my 20's it was noticed and pointed out to me that my gait was with my right foot pointing rather noticeably to the right rather than in front of me. I became self conscious of it and self corrected my gait. Over time it became natural. <br />
<br />
However, it has had another effect: it has put stress on the muscles in my right hip, causing me pain. The pain only occurs DURING activity: walking for more than 15 or 20 minutes, dancing, hiking, biking. When I stop the activity, the pain also stops. The pain started occurring when I was in my mid 30's -- but periods of rest seemed to help. Then I hit my 40's -- periods of rest did not help. <br />
<br />
I tried analgesics, anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxants, even strong pain killers -- to no avail. No doctor had yet diagnosed me correctly. I was told I had "hip bursitis", or "probably arthritis" -- even though no arthritis showed up in any x-rays! <br />
<br />
In December 2010 I found a doctor in Baltimore who diagnosed it correctly. She told me that before we consider surgery as an option I should try physical therapy. I spent three months, three days a week, plus exercising at home, doing physical therapy. Some of it was painful. It did not help. Surgery appeared to be what I needed. BUT... even with the health insurance I had (for which I was paying $500 per month!), I would not be able to afford it. Additionally, if I were to undertake to have the surgery, I would have had to postpone my aliyah yet another year. That last was most definitely unpalatable to me.<br />
<br />
I decided to make aliyah, and place my bets on being able to get the surgery in Israel, and also to have it covered by the very good health care system here. <br />
<br />
Today, I had my first meeting with an orthopedist. It was a dismal disappointment. He was discouraging me: he intimated that I should "live with it". He suggested that surgery would not help me. He suggested I take drugs to manage the pain. I was really dismayed. But, I insisted that I am ONLY 52, that I wish to remain active - to go hiking, to dance, to do many of the things I had always done. I am too young to spend the rest of my life sitting!!<br />
<br />
He finally conceded and gave me a hafnaya (referral) to an orthopedic surgeon. Let's hope this doctor is more optimistic for me.Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-25391318336745285042012-03-09T08:30:00.002-05:002012-03-09T08:30:45.385-05:00Better Late Than Never…<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyxUiATLFOwx4sxprOLNumIWwD8qxhh5xuQud0h_T_6CCkLKC8dZoCAglOsZgkjEGOKaI3OahnXykc3G84wE7c40GmTkOHxLx32EduZLLOqJ5B5ipRmkKbQwwHgh1bXSp9GeZSCIbxOLd/s1600/Barry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMyxUiATLFOwx4sxprOLNumIWwD8qxhh5xuQud0h_T_6CCkLKC8dZoCAglOsZgkjEGOKaI3OahnXykc3G84wE7c40GmTkOHxLx32EduZLLOqJ5B5ipRmkKbQwwHgh1bXSp9GeZSCIbxOLd/s200/Barry.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><u>Rabbi Barry Stern a"h</u></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">But for the intervention of parental authority and the increasing
obligations of life, I would have made aliyah thirty two years ago. It was not until I met and married my late
husband, Rabbi Barry Stern (a”h) a decade ago that my dream of aliyah was given
free reign and allowed to flourish. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Our longing to live in Israel was
palpable, and while many of our conversations were peppered with discussions of
how, when and where, our fears and familial obligations kept that dream at bay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I made aliyah six months
ago. It has been an entirely wonderful
and positive experience. However, in
reading of other’s aliyah experiences it was all too easy to come away with a
bad impression of life in Israel and to be frightened away from the prospect of
making aliyah. And so, In the face of the
many negative experiences that others have experienced and written about, and
disseminated to the public - particularly via the internet - I feel compelled to
</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">step in and offer my
experiences as an antidote.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">For many years before coming home,
I trolled email lists, blogs, online forums and the like for any tidbits of
information that could aid our planned aliyah. In reflection, I lived vicariously through
other people’s aliyah experiences. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I read about the food in Israel, how we would
not be able to find our favorite brands and how we should be ready to learn to
appreciate the local fare, or expect to spend a fortune of money at the
checkout for the American cuisine we would crave. I learned about cars – owning vs. leasing vs.
renting vs. using public transportation and tremping (hitchhiking). I was
mostly told was that we would not want a car because it would be very expensive
and we would, eventually, wind up doing what everyone else does: getting around
by tremping, buses, trains, and taxis. I
learned about banking in Israel – and was drilled expect to be robbed at the
counter because “all the banks in Israel are about taking one’s money, not
helping one to save it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I also read tales of olim who
underwent nightmarish experiences with shippers and customs. Either the shipper would tack on humongous
unexpected fees at the destination and hold their belongings for ransom, or
customs would charge exorbitant customs fees and taxes. Whole shipments would disappear or show up
completely damaged and the insurance which ostensibly was to cover replacement
value would be something one could wind up fighting for months to receive.
There was the story of the refrigerator that was damaged—just the door was
damaged but without the door the refrigerator could not be used - and the
insurance company was insisting it was only “25% damaged”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Additionally, I heard and read
many horror stories of the unwieldy bureaucracy of Israel – of corrupt clerks,
or of being shuttled back and forth between desks or offices with no one
actually helping the individual accomplish the task they had set out to do. I read stories of olim reduced to tears by
uncaring and rude agency officials, having to pay more than their fare share of
fees, and so on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Did these tales of woe frighten
me? Yes, at least a little bit. I also have the additional “burden” of being
severely hard of hearing and I require hearing aids. Even though I had learned to speak Hebrew in
an Ulpan in Israel some thirty years prior to my aliyah, </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">my ability and fluency declined in
the intervening years; as they say,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> “Use it or
lose it” and I feared I had lost
it. Being that much older did not help –
learning a new language (or rather RE-learning it) is harder for us “older
folk”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Then, several years into my aliyah research, tragedy struck </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">when my beloved husband died
suddenly and tragically. He had slipped and fallen on icy pavement, struck his
head on the ground, and suffered a major subdural hematoma. He was brain dead
upon arrival at the emergency room. We buried him six days later. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">After a week of shiva, in which possibly
a thousand people traipsed through my house making condolence calls, I was
alone – incredibly, irrevocably alone.
It was only then, in going through my late husband’s affairs, that I
came to realize that my life had been terribly altered, and the change of
circumstances would be more than just a loss of my husband. Also involved was a
huge change in my financial status – one that would pit me against his family
and ex-wife in a litigious affair that lasted most of the two and a half years
prior to my aliyah. In the end, my
losses included not only my husband, but his family, my house and home, my
community (I had to move to a more affordable community), my car, and my
job. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">None of this stopped me, however,
from pursuing my dream of making aliyah. I even continued to read the horror
stories (while living one of my own). In
retrospect, I realize now that I was trying to internally “prepare for the
worst”. So, in a bid to avert disaster, I
then went to work: I researched <i>everything</i>:
cars, banks, finance issues in Israel, places to live, cost of living, health
care, housing, employment, services for the hearing impaired; you name it, I
researched it. I accumulated all the pertinent
documents and articles and information and compiled all the information into a
binder, organized by topic. I discovered
organizations that offer personal grants to Jews making aliyah. I sold some of my possessions to help finance
my aliyah, in addition to the grants which I received. I reached out to my friends who were already
living in Israel and told them of my plans and asked for their help. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">So here I am, living in Israel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I made aliyah and shipped all my
worldly possessions to Israel. My
interactions with the shipper in the States, the shipper in Israel and with
customs was very smooth. A few boxes
initially went missing, and a few items sustained minor damage. Ultimately four out of the five missing boxes
were returned to me, and the damages were repaired or minor enough to leave
alone. I was insured for the missing
fifth box. My possessions were not held
ransom and there were no surprises like additional fees in store for me. The
workers who came and packed me up and loaded the truck and those who unloaded
and unpacked my belongings were extremely respectful to me and of my
possessions. I would describe this as a
positive experience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IoWr9e36iH1di2zca0QnPjSWPlGIN8J-yK-xKLkLBJqEqgKQmrDmo4wAwXFr7sGDnOo3wCRgZgVm2eU1CkAI-JplbItfy423SelNNyjBg62T_p6BiQ8Tuvgs5F40bi2CkfdEOooJr7hX/s1600/Humous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IoWr9e36iH1di2zca0QnPjSWPlGIN8J-yK-xKLkLBJqEqgKQmrDmo4wAwXFr7sGDnOo3wCRgZgVm2eU1CkAI-JplbItfy423SelNNyjBg62T_p6BiQ8Tuvgs5F40bi2CkfdEOooJr7hX/s200/Humous.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I eat the food that I can afford
to buy and I am not starving nor missing “American” delicacies. Much of what I ate while in the US is readily
available here, and it is not all exorbitantly priced. I drive a car, and yes, it is quite expensive
to drive in Israel. But I had made the decision
before I came to Israel that I would have a car and would be willing to give up
other “creature comforts” for that mobility.
It was a decision based in the reality of whom and what I am: a fifty-two year old woman with arthritis in
her knees and ankles and a congenital hip deformity. Walking to the trempiada, or bus stop, or
train station, dealing with a multitude of weather changes, schlepping bags of
groceries or whatever I had need of schlepping – well, it just was not going to
be do-able for me anymore. A car was
(and is), to my mind, a necessity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I have a US bank account which
does not charge me foreign transaction fees, a credit card with no foreign
transaction fees, an Israeli bank account that does NOT charge fees for every
standard transaction, health insurance with Maccabi Zahav that is quite amazing
(I can make appointments with my doctors online!) and have had no problems
dealing with any of the bureaucrats I have had to do my business with. It <i>is</i> true that many of the
bureaucrats working within Israel’s extremely hierarchical infrastructure lack
a true sense of customer service and are oftentimes rather abrupt in their
interactions with the public, and sometimes even downright rude. However, I learned a valuable lesson from my
mother: honey catches more flies than
vinegar. Translated, this means to
always smile and be nice to those you are dealing with, even if they are not –
trust me, it never fails, to at the very least, to soften them up. I have found it usually changes their
demeanor to downright sunny! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPsgRfiWL3sOzio1sZ6_KHYrOv-ClqNkUN9UXEBRFbOMLJZByMjatartOaAKh3fu_pyBvEWJoFDWnjSJHR1vJgXPP8vP90YK5isH7HBkWatwOywH_GL_6gaOLzaNxhIyaHkeNcVk7B4lT/s1600/alef-bet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPsgRfiWL3sOzio1sZ6_KHYrOv-ClqNkUN9UXEBRFbOMLJZByMjatartOaAKh3fu_pyBvEWJoFDWnjSJHR1vJgXPP8vP90YK5isH7HBkWatwOywH_GL_6gaOLzaNxhIyaHkeNcVk7B4lT/s200/alef-bet.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I have retained enough Hebrew to
manage my life (although holding a deep, profound philosophical discussion in
Hebrew remains beyond my abilities), and I am living in a lovely community in a
beautiful house. I have a blossoming
social life and am close to my family here which includes my married daughter,
two grandsons, my sister and her family, several nieces and nephews, and my
mechutenet. I am close to many of my
friends who made aliyah from Monsey, Teaneck and Baltimore – all the
communities in which I lived at one time or another. I have made many new friends
as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It never occurred to me that I
could not do this. It still does
not. I am here. In the face of many trials and tribulations I
made aliyah in August 2011. I did so
with the help of Nefesh B’Nefesh, The Cyrus Foundation, Ebenezer, and the
Jewish Agency and with the help of my wonderful family and amazing
friends. I did so by being resourceful
and never taking no for an answer, but mostly, I did it with the help of Hashem
– to whom I spoke and prayed on a daily basis – asking for the zechut to make
aliyah and to live in the Holy Land, Eretz HaKodesh. Apparently He said “yes”. I have so much to be thankful for and I bless
and thank Hashem every day for the miracles He has allowed me to witness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-83154037807147872732012-02-27T04:42:00.000-05:002012-02-27T08:34:42.163-05:00The Forgotten SingleI recently posted a rant on my Facebook. Then, I deleted it. But not before it went live and many of my friends likely saw it. I regret posting the rant but I do not divorce myself from the feelings expressed. <br />
<br />
I am single and I truly dislike it. For most of the two and a half years after my husband died, I was alone. Oh, my brother and his family lived nearby for some of that time, and my parents are both (B"H) still around. I am pretty close to them all, too. I also have a number of good friends who would invite me to their homes for Shabbat meals and Chagim. But some of those invitations came by way of me reverse engineering them...<br />
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For the most part, married couples with families tend to forget about us singles. I was once told, when I mentioned this to my Rabbi, that of course I was not forgotten. But he was wrong. I WAS forgotten. It is actually normal: people get very busy and involved in their lives - thus they forget that there are others who do not have such busy lives.<br />
<br />
I tried to arrange my life in such a way as to alleviate this "aloneness" and loneliness. I made aliyah, and joined forces with my daughter and her husband in setting up a new home. We are living together under one roof and sharing our resources. This would accomplish a number of things for all of us. It would enable us to live a higher standard of living and to be able to afford it. It would allow me to be a part of my children and grandchildren's lives and I would not be alone. It would afford Chloe some help at home with my presence. <br />
<br />
To be sure, this is not an ideal situation. But, for the most part, we all get along, with some minor disagreements. But then, that is also normal. I know of no family unit that has no disagreements. In that we are a normative family unit. Historically, families used to be comprised of multiple generations living under one roof, for all the same reasons described above.<br />
<br />
But, for me, the issue of loneliness still exists. Why? As is both expected and normal, my daughter and her husband have their own set of friends -- age appropriate and dealing with the same issues as they are. While I am, of course, friendly to their friends -- and they exhibit the same reciprocal feelings -- they are not MY friends and I am not theirs. In short, it is not MY social circle. <br />
<br />
When I was married I had a large social circle of married couples. We were friendly with many couples with whom we socialized -- inviting them to Shabbat meals, going to their homes for Shabbat meals, and so on. With the death of my husband, I lost this social circle. Over time, and rather quickly, not gradually, the invitations stopped coming, and people no longer accepted my invitations to them to come to my home for a meal. Over time, I stopped asking. Over time, I stopped begging for invites. <br />
<br />
Now, my daughter and her husband would like to go away for a Shabbat or Chag and be with their friends. But that leaves me out in the cold, once again alone. I want them to be able to go, and not feel guilty about leaving me. But I also do not wish to be alone. <br />
<br />
I find that more and more the only people with whom I can be are also single women like myself. While I truly enjoy their company, it gets old, fast. I need the variety of socializing with many people, both men and women and also their children. <br />
<br />
I am not one to call people and invite myself over. It feels rude, it feels demeaning, it feels like begging. Additionally, it is very uncomfortable when I do that and the response has to be no. It is uncomfortable for the people whom I am asking and for me. The best would be if someone would remember me, and invite me to their home for a meal or two. I would accept -- gladly.<br />
<br />
I am just as guilty as others of the crime of forgetting those who are single and alone. I rarely, if ever, thought to call those whom I knew were single and invite them to join me and my family for meals. So, in a sense, this is payback. <br />
<br />
But it does not have to be this way. I just do not know what to do to change it. <br />
<br />
Those are my thoughts. I needed to share them in a nicer way than the rant I should not have posted. <br />
<br />
If I offended anyone with that prior rant, please accept my apologies...<br />
<br />
<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-71713715390162686912012-01-27T05:50:00.001-05:002012-01-27T05:51:07.499-05:00I am flexible...<br />
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<span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">I
started my career in the fashion and retail industries (In 1982). I started in
retail sales. I became a buyer. I then did visual merchandising management (presentation
of merchandise through displays (interior and window) and the arrangement of
the merchandise). I have designed,
produced and sold my own creations:
costume jewelry and 3D collages made from beads, buttons, bows,
rhinestones, watch parts, charms and the like.
I was a partner in a cottage
industry – we designed, produced and sold a modular line of women’s knitwear -- I was in charge of marketing and sales,
and my partner did design and production.
I had my own business in which I designed, produced and installed major
seasonal and holiday themes for shopping centers and malls. An offshoot of this
was that I also did events production and management, fashion shows, pageants,
and the like. When I hurt my back in
1996, I took a job as a merchandising manager for Lee Jeans (wholesale side
now) and Gloria Vanderbilt. It was easy
work for me. While I was doing that, I purchased my first computer system and
taught myself how to use computers, how to use Microsoft Office (word, outlook,
excel, access, publisher, and powerpoint), I taught myself how to use the
internet, and then I taught myself how to set up and design webpages (using
HTML, CSS, and Javascript). I got a job
as a content manager editor for an online Jewish singles website, and then I
became a content manager for an online fashion website (to the trade). The dot com bubble burst and I was out of
work for about a year and a half. Then I
began working for Bnei Akiva of the US and Canada as the registrar for their
Mach Hach B’Aretz program – it was there that I cut my teeth learning about
nonprofits. I stayed there for five
years. I then went to work for American
Friends of Shalva and that is where I learned all about fundraising. When I moved to Baltimore I went to work for
the Jewish Museum of Baltimore and learned how to write grants (literally by
the seat of my pants!). All that has
brought me to where I am now! I am doing
a bit of grant writing and some nonprofit consulting….<o:p></o:p></span></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-55155749571385676952012-01-23T07:22:00.001-05:002012-01-23T07:22:11.275-05:00From my filesThe other day I was going through my files, looking for information pertaining to some contact information I could not locate. In so doing, I had to browse through many of the old files pertaining to the death of my husband including all the many "letters" I wrote and never sent. Below is a revised "letter". The changes I made to it have to do with tense -- at the time I wrote it, it was written in the present tense. I have simply changed all that to the past tense, since all this is now in the past. But it is one of my "finer" letters, detailing what I was going through, what I went through, and its impact on me. I am posting it here for posterity...<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">After the death of my late husband in
January 2009, I was reeling – with all the emotions attendant to losing my
husband – and will all the issues I had to contend with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">My first order of business had been to get
organized – no mean feat – as I still had to continue to work full time. At the
same time I tried to make my life as ‘normal’ as possible and to keep my
relationship with Barry’s family – his daughters, his parents and his sisters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Two weeks after Barry died, my daughter
gave birth to her first child, and my first grandson. I went to Israel, where
she lived, for the bris of my grandson but stayed only for three days. I barely remember that visit, I was still in
a grief and shock induced fog. While I was
still sitting shiva I was offered the opportunity for a new job and I took
it. I took it despite knowing that it
was not a good idea to undertake large changes to one’s life after an unchosen
and life altering event such as the loss of a spouse. I felt
I had no choice: I knew that the new job
about doubled my the job I had at the time, and I also knew that I was going to
NEED the additional income. It was a
risk I felt I had to take. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I had to meet with a number of attorneys –
for the estate, for the wrongful death lawsuit that I had hoped to file, but
which, in the end I was unable to file – no attorney would take the case as
there was little to no forensic evidence to prove any wrongdoing in the death
of my husband. I had to meet with accountants, a
psychiatrist, and a grief counselor. Most of this continued for the better part
of the next two and half years!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">It took nearly two months for the life
insurance money to arrive – and during those two months I had to figure out how
to deal with the mortgage and home equity loan. I learned later that my name
had somehow been removed from the deed to the house and thus I really should
have had zero obligations to either the mortgage or the HELOC. In the end, I was released of the
responsibility. However, upon the bad
advice of my attorney, I continued to pay the mortgage and heloc for the entire
year of 2009! It was lost money in the
end! He thought I would get it back in negotiations with the substitute
administrator of the estate. He thought
wrong! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Every day, I came home to an empty house,
and a pile of mail – from creditors, doctors, letters from the insurance
company, from the accountants, the lawyers, etc. After a full day of work, I
then spent more time working at home on making sense of everything, scanning,
and filing and emailing and making sure the bills were paid. Every day, I checked my budget, and checked
my bank account and looked to see if there was yet something else I may not
have thought of that I have to take care of. I cut out all non necessities –
and, even doing that, I still had a financial burden meant to be shouldered by
a larger income (the combined incomes of myself and Barry). The total expenses
I faced per year were greater than my gross income. I had no choice but to dip into some of the
life insurance money to help me stay afloat.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Had Barry taken care of things as he should
have, I too would have been in better shape—there should have been at least 350k
in life insurance for me and Chloe, and 375k for his daughters. There should
have been a will. But this was not the
case, and so I tried to make the best of a bad situation.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">After Pesach 2009 I received a call from
Barry’s mother. She demanded that I give
the life insurance money to her granddaughters.
I tried to explain to her why I could not do that. I was in a very precarious situation
financially and was extremely unsure of where I stood legally with regard to
everything else- the estate, the retirement accounts, etc. I also simply had not even had time to catch
my breath, and to feel normal. I was being hounded by everyone – doctors,
lawyers, creditors, banks, and then, my in-laws. I was under the care of a psychiatrist and a
grief counselor. I was on medication to help me deal with the anxiety produced
by this state of affairs. His mother refused to understand my position, called
me immoral and unethical and then went on to tell me that, “by the way,
everyone is coming to us for Shavuot”.
It was very clear to me that she was telling me “and you are not welcome”. It was a very painful moment in my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">On top of losing the one person who made me
feel cared for and loved, my husband, I also lost those I had considered to be
my family. Barry’s mother was truly
stunning in her cruelty, with her remarks about the family’s Shavuot plans. She
should be very proud of herself. She was determined to hurt me, and she was
successful. I applaud her cruelty. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I gave each of Barry’s daughters the sum of
$1800 (for a total of $7200). It was
both a gift and a good faith portion of the life insurance – good faith that I
will take care of them as best as I am able – once I was able to ascertain
exactly where I stood with regard to the estate and retirement funds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was truly sorry for Barry’s parent’s loss
– no parent should ever have to bury a child – and while it is not for me to
say who has a greater loss than another - I am the one who has had to bear the
brunt of it far more than anyone else. After all, I am the one who came home to
an empty house every night and I am the one who had to deal with the detritus
of his life and of his death. I am the
one who was homeless every Shabbat and every Chag and went from one person’s
home to another so I should not sit and eat alone. Barry’s family certainly did nothing to
alleviate that for me. Not once did any member of Barry’s family reach out to
me to ask me how I am managing, to invite me to their Shabbat table, to be with
the family as a member of the family. NOT ONCE.
(My sister in law Karen did, but belatedly, when she came around to the
understanding that I was being treated very shabbily by Barry’s ex-wife, his
daughters, and my in-laws.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I am also the one who made Barry happy in
the last nine plus years of his life. I gave him the life he wanted – with the
Shabbatot, with the family, enabling him to sit and learn so he could receive
semicha. I was the one to whom he turned when he came home after being beaten
down by his nasty boss at IDT. I was the one to whom he turned when he could
not win an argument with his ex wife. I was the one to whom he turned in the
middle of the night when he woke with night fears or with leg cramps. I was the
one to whom he cried when he felt that his parents did not think he was “good
enough”. I was the one with whom he
shared his elation at working for IBM and at how well he was treated there. I
also was the one he turned to when he felt that his daughters did not love him,
or even respect him. As they each “came
of age” and were no longer obligated by the terms of the divorce child custody
arrangement to spend half their time with us, they no longer came to us – EVER. Barry was VERY hurt by this. Once in a blue moon one or the other of them
would deign to give him 15 minutes of their time over a cup of coffee at the
Lazy Bean Café (which, btw, was where he fell and died, on his way to meet two
of them for the aforementioned 15 minutes of grudgingly given “quality time”). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Barry had been my rock, my support, my
strength, he was the one to whom I turned. We had a wonderful marriage and were
very much in love. In the last several months of his life he was the happiest
he had ever been. Barry gave me so much,
and one of the things he gave me was a beautiful family. However, that was
simply an illusion – I learned after his death that his “beautiful family” was
not so beautiful after all, and it certainly was not “mine”. They did not love me as much as I had loved
them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-76794560532446549442012-01-07T16:11:00.001-05:002012-01-07T16:11:19.792-05:00Fodder for laughter, after the fact...I was reading some one else's aliyah post and for some reason it put me in mind of one of the sillier experiences I had in the process of preparing for my aliyah. When one is planning aliyah there are myriad details that one must take care of. One of those details is to provide for the reading pleasure of the Jewish Agency a letter written by a Rabbi attesting to one's Jewish identity. <br />
<br />
I am fortunate to have as a "friend of the family" a somewhat illustrious Rabbi -- Rabbi Berel Wein. It was from him that I requested such a letter. He willingly agreed and wrote and sent me a letter, written in Hebrew, attesting to his knowledge of me, my family, and my Jewish identity. That letter was written on letterhead from his organization, The Destiny Foundation. I showed the letter to the Jewish Agency rep who was interviewing me for acceptance for aliyah and she told me that it must be on "synagogue letterhead". I was incredulous. This was Rabbi Berel Wein! This was his Foundation! Nope - not good enough! <br />
<br />
I again contacted Rabbi Wein, explained to him what the Jewish Agency had asked. Again, he willingly wrote me a letter. Actually, this time he wrote TWO letters. One was on letterhead from Beit Knesset HaNasi which is his shul in Jerusalem, Israel. The other was on letterhead from Bais Torah of Monsey, which had been his shul in Monsey, NY. Both letters were written in Hebrew. <br />
<br />
I showed both letters to the Jewish Agency rep. This time she said the letters were no good because he wrote that both my parents were Jewish. She told me that the letter should state that my MOTHER is Jewish! Absurd!<br />
<br />
With some embarrassment, I again asked Rabbi Wein for a new letter, explaining why his two letters were not sufficient. Rabbi Wein is a paragon of patience. He said not a word but simply rewrote BOTH letters to comply with this latest request. <br />
<br />
Again, I showed both these new letters to the Jewish Agency rep. I waited with bated breath for the verdict: "mekubal!". She accepted these letters! B"H! <br />
<br />
I look at this simply as fodder for laughter after the fact...Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-67752503560139603942012-01-01T16:42:00.001-05:002012-01-01T16:42:28.284-05:00Words I cherish...My late husband had written these words just several weeks before his untimely death. I find this to be so validating in light of all the crap I had to suffer through subsequent to his death. <br />
<br />
"We're picking up so much debt paying for your sister's schools that we probably won’t be able to go on aliyah until we retire, IF we will be able to retire. <span style="background-color: yellow;">Rachel's a great wife, and people don't even realize it, but I do. Her only real daughter lives in Israel and she hasn’t complained to me</span> that we are taking these loans for your sister's schools that in our mind now precludes us from going on aliyah and her being with her daughter and me with my other kids."Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-22371285801782912282011-12-20T15:44:00.002-05:002011-12-20T15:44:13.268-05:00It really is a Happy Chanukah -- first time since 2009This year Chanukah is truly a happy one for me. I have not had a Happy Chanukah since before December 2009. <br />
<br />
December 2009 was my first Chanukah alone. I remember returning home after work on the first night of Chanukah. I had set up my Chanukiah the night before and had planned to light the candles and sing Maoz Tzur when I came home from work. Well, I got home, and I attempted to do so. But I couldn't. I could not bring myself to light the candles alone, and to sing the songs. I just was SO SO SO lonely. I had no children with me, no family with me, no friends with me and I was just SO alone. I think I curled up on the sofa and cried. <br />
<br />
I did manage to celebrate Chanukah in 2010, more or less -- I was able to be with my brother and his family for some of it, in Baltimore. I was busy -- with work, and a bit of a social life. I was also very much in the mode of accepting my new reality and creating a new reality by planning for my aliyah. It was still not a particularly HAPPY Chanukah yet, for me, but I was trying.<br />
<br />
This year, 2011, I can say that it is a Happy Chanukah. I am busy. I have my family close to me. I am not alone. I am not lonely. I have many many good friends. I have two grandsons who are absolutely precious. My youngest grandson just came home from the hospital, recovered from his bout of viral meningitis, B"H. <br />
<br />
We gave a present to Gavriel and it was SUCH a pleasure to watch him open it and delight in playing with it. I lit candles with my family, and we sang together. I am meeting many new people, and having a nice life. <br />
<br />
Thank you, G-d! <br />
<br />
Happy Chanukah to all my family and friends. I love you all...Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-83624867269405722862011-12-09T03:46:00.001-05:002011-12-09T03:47:10.062-05:00I hate being singleI HATE BEING SINGLE. ESPECIALLY ON SHABBAT AND CHAGIM.<br />
<br />
I HATE GOING TO OTHER PEOPLES HOMES AND BEING AN OBJECT OF PITY.<br />
<br />
AND I HATE THAT NO ONE EVER BOTHERS TO FIX ME UP WITH ANYONE.Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-80703486742265022692011-12-01T11:12:00.001-05:002011-12-01T11:20:30.850-05:00Taking pleasure in small thingsToday I had a very pleasurable day!<br />
<br />
Today I returned to Tel Aviv, to deal with getting my hearing aid fixed. I also went to a place there for a mammogram. First I went to the Medton corporate offices on Ben Yehuda. I asked to speak with Shay -- CEO of Medton. He was not available for an hour and a half. I had to then explain to the receptionist that I could not wait that long, I had another appt at 4 PM and I was from out of town, etc. I also had to explain to her my reason for needing to speak with Shay. She was very nice to me and she made a few calls to see if she could help me get connected to the person who could fix my hearing aid. I also showed her the letter from Peer Lauritson to Shay and the agreement between them vis-a-vis my hearing aid. <br />
<br />
She was successful and told me to go to the Medton office around the corner on Mendele -- this was the first Medton office I had visited two weeks ago. When I arrived at that office, they were waiting for me and very welcoming. They took the hearing aid and looked at it. Turned out that the wire/tube needed to be replaced. They were able to replace it right then and there and voila! I had my hearing aid back and was able hear in my left ear once again! <br />
<br />
Then I retraced my steps to get back to my car which was parked in a lot and drove to the next place for my mammogram. I had to park several blocks away as there was no parking anywhere near the building. I arrived a bit early but was able to be seen immediately. I had the mammogram taken and then was able to leave and head home.<br />
<br />
So, what was it about doing all this that gave me such pleasure? <br />
<br />
I conducted all my business today in HEBREW. ALL OF IT! Such a small thing that! And yet it gave me such pleasure. I love speaking Hebrew...<br />
<br />
<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-91187055765394244462011-11-23T15:30:00.001-05:002011-11-23T15:38:14.275-05:00Update on the saga of my hearing aids...In my last post I detailed the difficulties I was having in getting one of my hearing aids repaired. The Oticon distributors in Israel were refusing to honor my Oticon authorized warranties which I received in the US. This despite having received assurances from Oticon that the warranties WOULD be honored!! <br />
<br />
I was then in touch with the audiologist in Baltimore who I had worked with to find the best hearing aids for me. It was through her that they were purchased and the warranties provided. She was directly in touch with Oticon and after being unable to obtain satisfaction otherwise, the president of Oticon, Peer Lauritsen stepped in. <br />
<br />
Well, folks, that did the trick. Here is a copy of the letter my audiologist received from Oticon: (I have removed the contact info, sorry)<br />
---------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; mso-outline-level: 1;">
<b>From:</b> Anna Musser<br />
<b>Date:</b> November 23, 2011 10:13:07 AM EST<br />
<b>To:</b> Julie Norin<br />
<b>Subject:</b> <b>Assistance Needed by Oticon Inc.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good Morning Julie,<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Below is information on how we will resolve this matter for
the time being. Our president Peer Lauritsen approved our Colleague in Israel
to bill us for any charges that may be incurred (as the instruments and
speakers are covered under our US new instrument warranty).<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We will be also forwarding a note to our Colleagues in
Israel to confirm this arrangement. They are welcome to work with us regarding
any questions or charges.<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His details are:<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mr. Shay Davidovich<u5:p></u5:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Email: <a href="mailto:Medton-s@medton.co.il"><span style="color: windowtext;">Medton-s@medton.co.il</span></a><u5:p></u5:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mobile: +97254 433 6288<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The company details are:<u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span lang="DA">Medton<u5:p></u5:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="DA">51, Ben-Yehuda
St., P.O. Box 3184<br />
63 431 Tel Aviv<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="DA">Phone: +972 3526
8101<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="DA"><a href="mailto:medton@medton.co.il"><span style="color: windowtext;">medton@medton.co.il</span></a><u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u5:p></u5:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Michael Bjergegaard our sales manager has already talked to
Mr. Shay and he will take good care of the customer. <u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
let me know if you need any additional information. We will
be contacting the office again. Please keep in touch and let us know that
everything is taken care of properly. Thank you. <u5:p></u5:p><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u5:p> </u5:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Best Regards,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #c6168d; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Anna Musser<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Customer Service Representative, Oticon Inc.<u5:p></u5:p></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Oticon, Inc.<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">29 Schoolhouse Road<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;">Somerset, NJ 08875, USA<u5:p></u5:p></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Direct 800-526-3921 X2129<u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Fax 732-560-7376 <u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Email <u5:p></u5:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #464749; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Web <a href="http://www.oticonusa.com/">www.oticonusa.com</a><u5:p></u5:p></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<u5:p></u5:p>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-52215488262070536462011-11-15T23:32:00.001-05:002011-11-15T23:56:43.967-05:00Two more only in Israel experiences good and bad...As most of my readers know, I wear hearing aids. Before I made aliyah I took steps to acquire brand new hearing aids since my old ones were about four years old and already on their way out. I did not want to have to deal with attempting to acquire new hearing aids in Israel so shortly after my arrival. I also understood that there was probably no chance in hell that I could acquire them for nothing. But, in the US where there social services infrastructure is vast, and rather well supported, I felt I had a better chance of doing that. <br />
<br />
I was in a position where I felt I could be eligible for such assistance. I thus went to the Division of Rehabilitation Services of Maryland and applied. My application was successful and after many months of meetings, testing, and working with an audiologist to find the right hearing aid for me, I was successfully fitted with brand new hearing aids - Agil Pro power aids by Oticon. Upon receiving the aids I also received a warranty for repair and a warranty for replacement. I then asked about coverage by those warranties while I would be living in Israel. We spoke with Oticon directly and they told us that both warranties are 100% valid and honorable in Israel. <br />
<br />
In Israel there is only one distributor of Oticon hearing aids, Medton. Medton has a number of offices throughout the country. I decided (unwisely it would later turn out) to go to their "flagship" location, in Tel Aviv. This was the trip I took yesterday, despite not feeling very well. My daughter and two grandsons joined me in this excursion for a break in their routine. Trust me -- this was a break!<br />
<br />
Using my trusty Garmin GPS I easily found my way to where the Medton office was located and then proceeded to look for a place to park. I found one a block away and parked. But this was not free parking. I then searched, in vain, for a nearby kiosk where I could purchase the parking card to display in my window. With an unsuccessful search for such I began asking passerby where I could find such a kiosk. Well, apparently it could be found several blocks away in the opposite direction in which I needed to go. I realized I could get a ticket while I would be on my way to purchase the parking card. (yes, BAD design, and yes, typically Israeli). I was going to move the car when one of the passersby whom I had stopped to ask where the kiosk was, took out a parking card from his briefcase and gave it to me with instructions on how to mark it (by scratching out the day, date, month, time, etc) and display it in the window of my car. I wanted to pay him but he refused. This was the typical really great only in Israel experience for this day!<br />
<br />
With a smile on my face I then proceeded with my daughter, Chloe, grandsons Gavriel and Eliya to the Medton office. We entered the office (a nice but small place, easily accessible, clean and well-lit), and I approached the reception window. I explained my business -- one of my HA's had stopped working, I think it just needs a cleaning -- and I also assured them that if the work was more than just a cleaning, I have the warranties for coverage and showed them these. (Of course, they were in English, but trust me -- they understood). Well, they insisted that they could not honor the warranties and further insisted that my HA needed real work and it would cost me 900 NIS (nearly $250). I told them that these warranties were issued by OTICON and that they, as Oticon distributors were legally bound to honor the warranties -- to no avail. So, we prepared to leave - my intention being to go home and contact both my social worker and audiologist in Maryland and let them know what is happening. I knew my audi has a close working relationship with Oticon and that she (and they) would come through for me. But before we could leave, we each needed to use the facilities and then Chloe needed to nurse Eliya. So we were "hanging out" in the waiting area of the Medton office for a bit. Just before we were prepared to depart the woman at the desk told me that if I could produce a "cheshbonit" (receipt) for the HA's in MY NAME, they would honor the warranties. I explained to her that the HA's were purchased for me by a government agency so I could not produce such a thing, but that the HA's and the warranties are in my name and, more importantly, my HA serial numbers are in the Oticon database with MY NAME. No go. So, we left.<br />
<br />
Upon arriving home I immediately hit my computer and sent out an email to both my social worker and audi back in Maryland. The response from them was swift and completely in agreement with me. My audi was in contact with Oticon and Oticon stated that Medton is legally obligated to honor my warranty. They then asked my audi to provide them with all the names and contact info for the people who turned me away. They said if they continue to refuse to honor my warranty then Oticon will find another distributor in Israel. <br />
<br />
In the meantime, I remembered that I had cut out an advert for a hearing aid place in Jerusalem. I pulled out that ad to look at it. It is also for a Medton office. However, this ad was in English, in the JPost magazine, and targeted to English speaking clientele. The audiologists at this place are American. I have decided that before I proceed with any action against Medton via Oticon, I am going to give this place a shot. I will be calling them a bit later this morning and arrange for an appointment. So, for now, this is a story "to be continued"...Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-64315317055471783662011-11-10T12:35:00.002-05:002011-11-10T12:35:52.510-05:00Bar Mitzvah, Reunions, Emotions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today I took the day off to go to Yerushalyim to attend the Bar Mitzvah of a friends son. I decided to go in with my son-in-law on his way to work, to take the light rail to Sha'ar Yaffe and walk to the Kotel for the Bar Mitzvah. I would then take the light rail and then bus back home. I anticipated a half day...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It took much longer. But first, let me discuss my emotional experience. I arrived at the Kotel just as they were davening Shacharit, right before Kriyat Shema. I was glad that I was able to get there early enough to actually participate. I found Pnina right away, and then, I heard it -- Shabi's voice, just as Pnina was telling me he was there for the Bar Mitzvah! Shabsi was davening for the amud. I knew that I might see some people I knew from Teaneck, but had not expected to see Shabsi. So, I was really surprised and I started crying. (Quietly, so as not to disturb their simcha). Then, I climbed on a chair and saw Carlos, and Moshe, and Aryeh and Shabsi, and I was kind of overwhelmed. Barry had loved Carlos and his son Moshe so much. Moshe did a BEAUTIFUL job leining and the entire Bar Mitzvah was just lovely. I also saw Allison Alt, and Danielle Barta, and Rebecca Furer. They were so cute. They each wanted to take their picture with me. I felt like a celebrity!! I told them that I wanted to have them all come to me for a Shabbat -- it could be a mini Teaneck Shabbaton! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After the Bar Mitzvah we went to the restaurant, Between The Arches. It is in a tunnel and it is really nice. We had drinks and nosh. Then there was a tour. I did not go on the tour. After the walking and standing around my hip was really hurting me. So, I stayed at the restaurant with their things until they returned. Then we went downstairs and sat down to lunch. It was a lovely lunch, with all kinds of salads, and dips and spreads, a tapas bar of sorts. Then there was salmon ceviche, and then salmon teriyaki on skewers with sweet potatoes, green beans and mushrooms, a lentil ball, and cherry tomatoes. There was an assortment of desserts which I passed on. I had limonana (lemonade with mint and crushed ice). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After lunch I walked back to get the light rail. That too was not without incident. First, as I was walking there, I passed through one of the outdoor cafe's that is frequented mostly by young kids and there was Liav Lewitt. I said hello to him. Then a bit later I stopped at a caspomat to take some money out and when I was done, I turned around and saw Alef Lewitt. It took him a moment to recognize me. He looked REALLY tired and out of it. He had no idea that his brother was sitting around the corner! Then, when I reached the intersection of Yaffe Street that leads up to where I would pick up the light rail, a woman fainted, and then began having a seizure. EVERYONE, and I mean EVERYONE went to help her. One man threw his jacket under his head and used a stick to prevent her from biting her tongue. Another woman sat down next to her and held her head. A third woman was on the phone calling emergency and another one called her doctor for instructions. Another person offered water. It was amazing. I stayed for a while because I was so scared for her and wanted to know she was okay but I realized I could do nothing so I said a prayer for her and left. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I then took the light rail back uptown, and found my way to the bus stop to catch my bus back home. Now about the "it took much longer" comment. Walking TO the Kotel was not so bad, it was mostly all downhill, plus it was early in the day and my energy level was good. But by the time I arrived my hip was aching me. Then, I had to turn down participating in the tour -- which was about a two hour long tour -- because I knew that my hip would hurt and that I still had to walk BACK to the light rail later. Sure enough, after lunch, which ended at 2 PM, I walked back. This time it was all UPHILL, and I was tired, and my hip was already hurting me. I had to go S-L-O-W-L-Y. So by the time I made it to the train stop to get the light rail it was nearly 3 PM! Then I had to WAIT for the train, and then the train was FULL and made many stops and took a long time at each stop so by the time I arrived at the Tachanat Mercazit it was nearly 4 PM. Then I had to walk several blocks to get to the bus stop to catch the bus back to the Yishuv. The bus does not go INTO the Yishuv, it let me off outside the Yishuv and I had to walk home from the bus stop. There was traffic going home, so by the time I got home it was 5:30 PM! It took 3.5 hours for me to get home after the lunch was over!!! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now I know why I wanted (and have) a car. I knew this would be an issue for me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway it was a nice day all around...</span>Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3374653141021109555.post-70540165664108801242011-11-09T11:37:00.005-05:002011-11-09T11:37:41.962-05:00Ulpan and a good full life<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have not posted here in a while. That is partly because I have been busy and partly because I have not really had much to say. I go to ulpan every morning for four hours, then I go home and either look for work, or work around the house, or shopping. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Learning in ulpan at this time of my life is so much more difficult than it was thirty two years ago. For one thing, I was much younger then and for another my hearing loss today is greater than it was back then. Additionally, I have the problem of difficulty with making sense of sounds that I hear. It can sometimes be a struggle in English, but in Hebrew it is TRULY a struggle. My issues with using the phone have not subsided in any great deal. I can use the phone but only easily with a handful of people -- such as my mom. But most of the time it is simply a big struggle, and many times simply impossible and I just give up. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">BUT, I can say that after being in Israel now, for a bit over two months, I AM beginning to feel that I can follow spoken Hebrew much better and I can even speak it better. The problem I have is when I am spoken to in Hebrew and I cannot follow what is being said because of my hearing, and I indicate as such to the speaker, rather than attempt to speak Hebrew more slowly, or more clearly, or even more simply -- they switch to English. And that totally defeats the purpose for me. It is just too much work for me to argue with them. They do not understand. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today in Ulpan it was finally my turn to sit in front of the class and tell my story. I had actually tried to avoid it but was unable to do so completely and finally had to do it. So, I told my story but clarified first off that I have a great life, that I am VERY happy in it, and that in no way do I wish to be thought of as a complainer. I was not complaining, just telling my story. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It is far from done, I hope. I hope I have much more life to live. I scare so much more easily today than I ever did. I am afraid of illness, of injury, of bad things. But I try to ignore my fears and just move on. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have a brand new grandson. His name is Eliya Yehuda. He is VERY cute and tiny and adorable. We had a beautiful bris and seudah following the bris in our home. I was very pleased with the turnout. Many of the people whom I consider my friends and who are important to me came. It was an interesting and nice mix of people. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today, I learned something new: I learned that The Evil One got divorced. I am NOT surprised. She once was married to the best man possible and she scorned him. She then chose to marry a real loser - a man who is mentally ill. I am actually sorry she divorced him. I wanted to see her continue with him as an albatross around her neck! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anyway, such is my life these days...</span><br />
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<br />Rachelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12401579760660391194noreply@blogger.com0