Hadassah Hospital Hospice Diaries: Eliezar and Michelle

This is the second of an ongoing series on volunteering at the Ina and Jack Kay Hospice at Hadassah Hospital Mount Scopus.

 “Suffering is only intolerable when nobody cares. One continually sees that faith in God and his care is made infinitely easier by faith in someone who has shown kindness and sympathy.” – Cicely Saunders

I knew intellectually when I started volunteering at the Hadassah Hospital Mount Scopus Hospice that I would be meeting people who weren’t at the hospital to recover and go home. However, until you start working in a hospice, you don’t really understand that emotionally. You need to put yourself in a different frame of mind when you walk into the place.

To get to the Hadassah Hospice, you need to pass the Labor and Delivery Department. Sometimes the corridor is lined with newborn baby baskets. It feels as if you are walking down a passage that begins with life and ends with death.

Life is not really a circle; it is more like a straight road with several curves and stops along the way. When I enter the Hospice, I say a little prayer: “Please God, help me to make someone’s passage from this world to the next easier, or to meliorate the pain of a family member. Please give me the strength to continue this work.”

In turns out that volunteering in hospice care has opened up a whole new world of experiences for me. I meet people who are interested in sharing their stories with me, their pearls of wisdom and, sometimes, their regrets. The patients are so appreciative of every little action I can do for them.

Eliezar
One patient, Eliezar (not his real name), asked for tea, two sugars. When I returned with his tea, he looked at me with surprise and asked, “No lemon?” I went to the refrigerator and found a lemon. It didn’t have anyone’s name on it so I asked one of the nurses if I could slice a wedge to add to Eliezar’s tea. She said it was okay. I brought him the lemon slice and dropped it into his tea. He was so grateful! He then asked if I would keep him company, just talk a little bit.

Eliezar told me how he had been a representative of Israel in several countries when he worked for a Ministry office. I asked him what was the most interesting country he had been to. “Israel, of course!” Eliezer told me that, in life, you must be kind; you must be honest; and you must be good to your family and your fellow man.

I saw Eliezar a second time. He again asked me to sit with him a little and talk. He told me about his wife and children. Then he looked at me and said something that I will never forget. “I will miss you,” he said.

The next week, when I came to the hospice, one of the nurses’ aides told me that Eliezar had passed away. He had been surrounded by his wife and children and other family members. They had a chance to say goodbye. The aide said it was very moving and beautiful. In my heart, I, too, said goodbye to Eliezer and told him that I would miss him. I thanked him for the optimistic words of advice he gave me that I hold close as I continue to manage the world I am living in.

Michelle
Michelle (not her real name) was born in France. She was a pediatrician in private practice in Jerusalem. We only met briefly on one of my visits. So pretty, so polite, so sweet. I brought Michelle her breakfast one morning. She wasn’t really interested in what was on the tray but knew she wanted a slice of bread with some kind of spread. With the help of one of the nurses, who guessed that she wanted tahini on her bread, I went to the nurse’s kitchenette and opened the drawer I was shown, where there was a stash of all kinds of spreads and dressings. I brought Michelle a piece of bread with a generous spread of tahini. “Merci, merci, merci,” she repeated. After she ate the bread, I offered to bring her another slice. “Oh, yes,” she would like that. She finished off the second slice, followed by another litany of “mercis.”

One of the things you learn in hospice care is that patients often don’t have an appetite, so if you can bring them something they will eat, it is a wonderful achievement. I was so happy that Michelle ate. I know a pediatrician at the pool where I swim every day who also made aliyah from France. I told her about Michelle and she thought maybe she could visit her.

When I came the next week, though, Michelle was no longer in hospice. I felt so privileged to have met her, someone who was so grateful for a slice of bread with tahini spread – someone who smiled until the end and made those around her smile, too.

The author does not speak on behalf of Hadassah and the views expressed herein are the author’s own and not necessarily those of Hadassah.

Karen is a member of the Hadassah Writers’ Circle, a dynamic and diverse writing group for leaders and members to express their thoughts and feelings about all the things Hadassah does to make the world a better place. It’s where they celebrate their personal Hadassah journeys and share their Jewish values, family traditions and interpretations of Jewish texts. Hadassah members are proud of their Zionist mission and their role as keepers of the flame of Jewish values, traditions and beliefs as well as advocating for women’s empowerment and health equity for all. Since 2019, the Hadassah Writers’ Circle has published nearly 800 columns in The Times of Israel Blogs and other Jewish media outlets. Interested in writing? Please contact hwc@hadassah.org.