M O N T H LY S E R I A L
WEEK 134 CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR HONORARY CITIZEN “Okay, so what do we do now?” I asked the doctor.
reprinted with permission from the author Aharon Margalit
told him, “I want you to personally operate on Judge Margalit.” (They were still calling me “the judge.”)
As yet, only Dr. Ron, the paper, and I knew the secret.
We scheduled a date, I wrote it in my business appointment diary, and left the hospital, feeling somewhat dazed.
“First we excise the suspicious gland and send it for a biopsy. After we get the results, we’ll have a better idea of how to proceed,” he said.
The easy part was behind me. Now I had to break the news to my devoted family and my good friends. How could I burden them with my seemingly endless bouts of suffering?
The scenario was chillingly familiar. Until the results of the biopsy, we couldn’t know if it was lymphoma or some other malignancy. The gnawing doubt was familiar, too.
Driving home, I put on a CD. From the car’s speakers burst the crystal-clear voice of a wunderkind singing, “Avinu Malkeinu, Avinu Malkeinu, have pity…have pity on us and on our children.” Tears sprang to my eyes, and I joined in his prayer.
Dr. Ron accompanied me to the surgical ward on the fourth floor to get things moving. The elevator and corridors hadn’t changed. Neither had the traffic of people coming and going. Most seemed in a hurry, as if chasing some treasure that they’d lost within this huge facility. What am I doing here, for Heaven’s sake?
STORY CENTER
Dr. Ron found Professor Micha Rabo, the department head, and
6 / The Center Spirit / July 2021
“My Father in Heaven, I believe with perfect faith that everything is for the good. Just give me the strength to bear it, that’s all I ask. Give me the strength to stand up to the task. Give my wife strength. Give my children strength. Give my friends strength. We’re still reeling from the past trauma. I’m still going to periodic follow-up tests. Now, all of a sudden, I’m forced to deal with another tumor. And we’re still in the year of mourning for our beloved son! At night we weep and mourn his loss. “My beloved Father, don’t cast me away at a time of illness. Dear G-d, strengthen my dear mother, a Holocaust survivor and a bereaved parent, who cares for Abba with such devotion. Have pity, Tatte, Have pity…have pity on us and on our children.” Convinced that the operation wasn’t urgent, the surgeon had set the biopsy date for another three weeks, namely, two weeks before Pesach.
