I first heard about this when I got a phone call from Israel, early in the morning on Sunday, May 18, 2003 as I was getting ready to teach Hebrew School. I was told that my good friend, Steve “Guns” Averbach was on that bus and was among the injured. Here’s a news article from that day:

Two Suicide Bombings in Jerusalem Area
Associated Press
Sunday, May 18, 2003; 12:16 AM

JERUSALEM – A suicide bomber blew himself up on a Jerusalem bus early Sunday, and seven passengers and the bomber were killed. At least 20 others were wounded, four in serious condition, and another bomber blew himself up on the outskirts of the city.

The attack was on a number 6 city bus at an intersection at the northern edge of the city, according to a police statement. Israel Radio said seven were killed, in addition to the bomber. Four dead passengers were still in their seats in the front of the bus, one leaning out a window, an hour after the blast.

Police said the second bomber blew himself up at the entrance to the village of Dahiya el-Barid, near Jerusalem. Police said the bomber was killed in the blast, and no one else was hurt.

There was no immediate claim of responsibility.

The Sunday bombings were part of a sudden surge in Palestinian attacks – four in 12 hours – including a bombing in the West Bank city of Hebron in which an Israeli husband and wife were killed. Also, two armed Palestinians tried to attack a Jewish settlement in the West Bank and were killed by soldiers.

The attacks appeared to be timed to coincide with a summit between the leaders of Israel and the Palestinians. Also, Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon canceled his trip to Washington in wake of suicide bombing. He was to talk with President Bush about the Mideast peace plan.

The bus bomber struck at a few minutes before 6 a.m. on Sunday morning, a work day in Israel, at the beginning of rush hour.

Witnesses said the bomb went off on a large bus divided into two sections as it neared a bridge in one of Jerusalem’s largest intersections, outside the Arab neighborhood of Shuafat and the Jewish neighborhood of French Hill, in the part of Jerusalem that Israel captured in the 1967 war – an area that is also claimed by the Palestinians.

Jerusalem police commander Mickey Levy told Israel Radio that the bus had left the suburb of Pisgat Zeev. “The explosive was large,” he said, “and the bus was shattered.”

It was the first such attack in Jerusalem since last November. In 93 suicide attacks since the current violence erupted in September 2000, 357 bystanders have been killed. Most were carried out by Hamas and Islamic Jihad, but recently the Al Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigades, linked to the mainstream Fatah, have taken responsibility.

Witnesses and rescue workers said the bomber blew himself up in the front of the bus. The long vehicle was blown onto the side of the road, and all the windows were shattered. A woman’s purse lay in the street about 70 yards in front of the bus.

The attack came a few hours after the end of the first Israeli-Palestinian summit meeting in almost three years. Palestinian Prime Minister Mahmoud Abbas and Sharon met at the Israeli prime minister’s Jerusalem office.

In a statement after the meeting, Sharon said it was agreed that the first priority in peacemaking must be stopping Palestinian attacks.

Responding to the Sunday morning attack, David Baker, an official in Sharon’s office, said the Palestinian Authority must use “all means available” to stop the attacks. “Palestinian terror cannot rule the Palestinian agenda,” he said.

Just before the summit meeting, a Palestinian suicide bomber blew himself up in a crowd of Israelis in the West Bank city of Hebron, killing an Israeli man and his pregnant wife.

Our friends thought that if we wrote stories about Steve, it might cheer him up. I sent the following story to be read to Steve:

It was the early 1990’s. The Swamp was in full swing. Champs was still on Yoel Solomon street, the internet had not yet caught on and the only available draft beer in Israel was Goldstar. The bar currently known as the Blue Hole was called Batzir Tov, or Good Vintage, and we used to spend a lot of time there (and in other bars as well).

We used to have all kinds of fun bar games. The most famous was called “Where’s Freddie?” which was highly adaptable. One time the game ended up with people running laps back and forth to the bar while one person would chug (or BURDEN, as we would say) and the rest of the crew would sing “Vee Ven Da Kumpedai” (which means “We’re All Waiting for You” in Danish). Mmmmmm Danish.

Sometimes we would pretend that we were pirates, put on red shirts and demand that the waitress serve us boiled rats. “Boiled rats! Bring us boiled rats!” This should not be confused with our most disgusting cocktail: the boiled sock. A boiled sock is made with flat beer, bad vodka and cheap whiskey. There was also the Hoo-ahh! Hoo-ahh!, but lets not get into that now.

We also played Freddie Fresh Rules Operation. You know the game of Operation where you have to extract tiny plastic pieces with small metal tweezers without touching the side and buzzing? In Freddie Fresh Rules if you buzz, you drink, and if you don’t buzz, everyone drinks.

Another fun game was the wedding ring game. A napkin would be stretched over a glass, and Steve Guns’ wedding ring would be placed in the center. We would take turns burning cigarette holes in the napkin until the ring would fall into the glass. That person would then have to BURDEN. One night, at Batzir Tov, after playing this game, we lost Steve’s wedding ring. We turned the bar upside down, and even went into the back to fish around in the sink, but alas, it was gone. Steve had to buy a new ring quick before his wife would notice that it was gone.

Satan, Steve Guns and Chuck were concluding a night of drinking at Batzir Tov, and as the bar closed, we started walking on Yoel Solomon Street toward Jaffa Road. Suddenly, Steve said, “Oh shit! I can’t find my gun!”

“Oh shit!” Chuck and Satan responded. So Chuck went back into the bar. He lifted up the cushions on the benches, asked the staff about it, looked high and low, and could not find it. Meanwhile, Satan and Steve removed all the stuff from Steve’s bag, laying the contents of the bag on the cobblestones. Chuck returned from his unsuccessful mission at the bar, and we wondered what we were going to do.

Then Steve reached around to his hip and said, “Oh, here it is.” Chuck and Satan then spent the next 20 minutes pummeling Steve.

I hope Steve has a full recovery so I can beat the shit out of him once again.

My friends felt that it was important that I go out to Israel in order to be with Steve during this time. So an international group of friends chipped in and bought me a ticket. I kept the rest of the world informed by sending out mass emails. A collection of those emails follows:

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Prelude:

This past Saturday I had to go to a meeting in Williamsburg. Apparently, the only time you can get successful Satmar businessmen together to talk about their community’s work situation is on Shabbos. They claimed that since the theme was “public need” (tzorchei tzibur) that it would be alright to meet on shabbos. Anyways, I walked over the Williamsburg Bridge on my way to the meeting. I thought I was ahead of schedule, so I asked a group of guys standing on the corner of Broadway and Havermeyer for the time. “Five minutes to five,” said a tall African-American man.

“Thanks,” I said, and continued walking.

“Have a good shabbos,” he called after me.

We were walking in the same direction and the man asked me how my shabbos was going. I told him that it was not going well, I was not happy about having to attend this meeting, but my thoughts are with my friend who was just injured in a suicide attack in Jerusalem. I had just purchased tickets and was going to head out on Tuesday.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “What’s his name?”

“We call him ‘Steve Guns.'”

“Well, I will pray to hashem for Steve Guns. We always pray that things should go well for the Jews. Have a safe trip out there, you are doing a good thing. You have to keep your faith in hashem.”

The whole incident was very surreal. Why would this man refer to god as hashem? And why is he so genuinely concerned for him and for all the Jews?

Yesterday:

I landed in Ben Gurion airport at about 1:15 local time. I was exhausted since I was unable to sleep on the plane. I was seated in the second to last row of the plane. The woman behind me could not recline her seat, so as a courtesy, I did not recline mine. As usual, the El-Al stewards were rude, but I suppose they can be since they are packing heat. Besides, nobody rides El-Al for the service.

Jeff picked me up at the airport and took me directly to the hospital. When I arrived there, Steve recognized me immediately and a big smile appeared on his face. He even tried to talk to me but it is impossible for him to do so now.

Steve is hooked up to a variety of different machines. Some pump fluids into his body, others drain fluids out of his body. Near him is a monitor which states his heart rate, blood pressure, lung capacity and temperature. He is able to move his head a bit, but he can neither move nor feel anything from the neck down. His feet are in these air boots that inflate and deflate regularly. They have been keeping him on serious sedatives including morphine and possibly MDMA. There is a tube that runs up his nose, and another one that runs down his throat. The tube down the throat is a respirator, without it he is unable to breathe.

Steve’s parents are with him almost constantly. His father is a general surgeon and his mother a surgical nurse. They both can appreciate that Steve is getting the best medical attention available in the world. Steve’s wife, Julie was not there when I was there yesterday since she was at home with their two sons. Unfortunately, due to another medical situation, Steve’s folks have to return to New Jersey on Sunday. They were happy to know that there would be someone available to watch Steve for some of that time.

Steve’s mother said that she had not seen Steve smile that much in days. One of the only ways that Steve can currently communicate is with a chart that has the alphabet on it. But using this chart is a long arduous process, since he can’t point to letter but can only communicate by blinking. After trying to understand what he was saying or asking for, he became frustrated, gave up, and passed out again.

Jeff then dropped me off at the home of Donna and Fred Moncharsh. They are our friend’s parents who offered for me to stay with them, and since they live in Ein Karem, a 7 minute walk from the hospital, I decided to take them up on the offer. I can’t say enough good things about them. They are beautiful, friendly, generous, cool, sagely wise and hospitable in a way that would make Avraham Avinu blush. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Their son-in-law, Underpants dropped by and Donna served us dinner. After a quick shower, Underpants showed me the path to take back to the hospital. I walked back up, and found Julie’s parents there. Steve was pretty much out of it, but he did open his eyes briefly. Julie’s brother and a friend of Steve’s from work stopped by as well. Steve’s parents had gone to the Kotel and when they returned at about 9:30, I went back down to the Moncharsh’s to finally get some sleep.

Today:

Slept through the alarm. Still managed to get out of bed by around 9:00am, had some coffee, and then trekked back up to the Hospital. Julie was there, and Steve was still, pretty out of it. He has been running a fever all week. Since he has been laid out on his back he has come down with pneumonia. Usually, if a hospitalized person has pneumonia, they put them on a rocking bed, but since Steve has a spinal cord injury, they are unable to do that. The pneumonia has delayed an operation that they would like to give him. They want to give him a tracheotomy. What that means is, they are going to slit his throat so they can run a tube down into his lungs.

Steve dad is walking around in surgical scrubs today. He has been looking at other operations and will be on hand when they do the tracheotomy to Steve.

After walking back into the room from a short break I saw Steve’s mother talking to an American woman named Barbara Goldstein. Apparently, she is a close friend of theirs and a serious macher in the Hadassah organization. She impressed me with her strength of charecter and her devotion to her friends and the whole cause of Hadassah. At some point, the nurses told Steve’s mother that there were unable to get Steve a new pair of air boots. He had been without them since his CAT scan the previous evening. Steve’s mom asked Ms. Goldstein if she could do anything about it. Within five minutes she returned with a new pair, sealed in that freaky green sterile bag.

Periodically, the nurses throw us out in order to move Steve around, or if they doctors are rolling by. While sitting in the waiting room, Ms. Goldstein came in with an elderly couple from Baltimore who did not know Steve or his family. The woman worked at the local Baltimore Fox affiliate station, and the husband was an engineer. They expressed their sympathy, and we had a conversation about Steve, the situation in Israel, the media, etc. As it turns out, these people are $100,000 donors to Hadassah and just felt that it was a good time to come to Israel. I am touched their support and their genrosity. For all the news that we hear about tragedies, I find it heartwarming that there are people like these, who just want to help and they do it by whatever means they have.

At some point, Steve’s parents and Julie went in to speak with the doctors. When they came out they said that Steve is doing better. I asked them what they mean by “better.” Steve’s father explained that his heart and kidneys are working better. (But still no improvement in the lungs, they are still of no use.) When we had a moment alone, Julie told me that Steve is going to be in the hospital for at least another two or three months. When he gets out of there, he will go to rehabilitation in Tel Hashomer, which means that the kids are going to have to move and leave their current friends behind. They would need to move to a house that has ramps, a special bathtub, special bed, etc. This process is not easy now and it will not be much easier in the future.

At about 4:00 they decided that they were going to perform the tracheotomy on Steve right there in the ward. I figured that it would be a good time to leave and do a little typing. As I left the hospital, it began raining. I lived in Jerusalem for 7 years and have never seen rain in the summer. Fred and Donna had never seen anything like it either.

That’s all for now. I am going off to Mike’s Place to meet up with all of our friends. Among other things, we will discuss the fund that is being established to help Steve and his family. I will provide more details about this fund at a later date.

Peace from Israel.

May 30, 2003

Prelude: The Scuba Gear

When I left Israel in 1991, it was supposed to be a temporary thing. So for the first year that I was in the US, I tried to prepare myself for my return. Among other things, I got a scuba license. I also bought some top of the line scuba gear, figuring that there was some really prime diving about a four hour drive from my place in Jerusalem. I never ended up moving back (for reasons I will not go into now) but my scuba gear ended up moving here. The gear hopped from storage room to storage room. Last summer I almost brought the gear back to the US, but my friend Hymie told me that he would hang on to it.

In a few weeks, Hymie is giving up his villa, and the gear needs to find a new home. I figured that I would finally bring the gear back to the states, for a miserable life of wreck dives off New Jersey. My friend Maimon, who loaned me the cell phone that I am using here, was going to drop me off at Hymie’s place last night. I asked him if he had any use for some scuba gear. Well, as it turns out, Maimon is a licensed dive master, but he does not own any gear. So it looks like the gear will stay in Israel after all.

Steve Guns Update:

The tracheotomy was a success. He no longer has a tube running through his mouth, and his stitches were removed from his forehead. For the next three days he will be heavily sedated, so that his neck has a chance to heal from the operation. They do not want him to move around his head too much. For the whole day he was pretty much out of it. If he did open his eyes they would be looking in opposite directions, or he would be kinda wonky-eyed like a person on an acid trip.

Although his eyelids were shut, his eyes were constantly moving as if he was dreaming in REM sleep. He was also moving his lips and his expression was constantly changing. I kept on talking to him which seemed to have a soothing effect on him. I kept it to positive responses with the occaisional, “Sure man, I know what you’re saying.”

Steve’s parents were strong as always. I tried to divert their attention by boring them about my job. Barbara Goldstien came by with a past president of Hadassah. Steve’s boss from the firing range came down to make sure that I was doing all I could to keep Steve positive. Steve’s friends from Mike’s Place came by as well, tomorrow they will take Steve’s kids to the pool, which should be a great thing for the kids, and for Julie. Julie showed up at around 3:30, about the time that I was heading out to write this email, shower and then get back before shabbat.

Shabbat starts in about two hours, so I gotta run.

June 3, 2003

Steve Guns Update

Prelude:

On May 17, Raizy Iskowitz started to feel contractions, and decided it was time to head for the hospital to give birth. Since she and her husband Avi or Avi-Yoda or By-Tor are orthodox, they would not carry money for a cab. They managed to get a cab driver to take them to the hospital. Avi asked the driver for his address, and said that he would send him the cash, but the driver would not hear of it. Shabbat came and went and she still did not give birth, nor did she sleep. The midwife arrived after shabbat to help with the birth, and with her pain level increasing, Raizy thought about using an epidural. In the wee hours of the morning of Sunday, May 18, she was ready to give in. “Enough already with this natural childbirth, I want the epidural! Where is that anesthesiologist?” she screamed. By this time it was morning, and the anesthesiologist could not be found. He was busy treating the wounded who were arriving from the #6 bus bombing.

She ended up getting the epidural and giving birth to a baby boy. They named their son Zvi, adapted from Steve’s Hebrew name. In the future, they will celebrate each May 18 as the day that they were blessed with a son.

Shabbat:

Shabbat at the Moncharsh’s was great. Steph, Ari and Sasha stayed over, the meals were great, and Todd and Zoe came by for shabbat lunch.

After lunch Ari and I went to the hospital. Steve’s parents were there all day. They looked tired and I offered for them to take a nap while we watch over Steve. They politely refused, and ended up passing out in a sitting position in the waiting room. Steve had the tracheotomy two days earlier, and was still under heavy sedation to keep his head from moving around and interfering with the proper healing of his neck. So Steve was pretty much a zombie through this.

Sunday:

Steve’s parents were leaving on Sunday night. Steve was still very sedated. He spent most of the day unconscious. Steve’s father removed stitches from his son’s forehead. His mother spent a lot of time at his bedside reading psalms. They were both very emotional when they left. For all the strength and courage that they showed, when it came time to leave, their faces could not mask their pain. I assured them that I would be around at least another 10 days and would do anything I could to help. Unfortunately, they both have some very serious health issues of their own which need to be treated immediately. They may not be able to return for another month.

Monday:

I went up to the hospital rather early, around 7:00am. I brought my Nomad mp3 player and set up a playlist of some music that I know Steve likes. A lot of Steely Dan, Bruce Springsteen, Blues Brothers, John Lee Hooker and Robert Cray. Steve was in great spirits. The sedation had worn off quite a bit. He often smiled and bobbed his head to the music. He no longer had the tube running through his mouth since it was now going directly into his throat through the tracheotomy. With this new freedom, Steve was trying to speak, but no sound was coming out of his mouth. It’s kind of like a flute: you need to put your finger over the hole to make sounds. For the life of me, I was unable to make out what he was trying to say. I wished my sister Karma was around, since she is an excellent lip reader.

There was a steady stream of visitors and well-wishers all day. Late in the evening, a producer of Nightline stopped by. They were doing a story about the doctors who treat victims of terror. They wanted permission to take some shots of Steve. After talking it over with him, he seemed to give his consent. This story will air on Nightline on June 3, so I would appreciate if someone could tape it for me.

I ended up staying at the hospital until a little after 8:00pm. I was waiting for Julie’s Mother (Steve’s mother-in-law) to arrive. She was supposed to be there at 7:00. I left Steve in the caring presence of Big Mike, who has really impressed me with his compassion and commitment. As it turns out, it took Julie’s mother about 2-1/2 hours to get to the hospital from Pisgat Ze’ev. There were roadblocks all over town because of an increased terror alert. The army had pulled back from the Palestinian areas and apparently a bomber from Ramallah is on the loose.

Tuesday:

I arrived at the hospital at around 10:00am. They moved Steve into a chair for a little while. He did not seem to be comfortable. In fact, he was not in a very good mood today. He kept trying to speak, but this ended up frustrating all of us. We could not make out what he was saying, and he could not make himself understood. He frowned and squinted and shook his head as he tried to get up from the bed. With the sedation winding down, he seemed to be more aware of his condition. He kept staring at the machinery and at his lifeless arms. I did not know how well apprised he was of his situation. Throughout the day his anger and frustration grew. When I arrived, Julie’s mother told me that she managed to decipher something he was trying to say, “Please bring me my clothes.” In a later conversation with Julie I learned that he wanted his clothes in order to leave. He strained and struggled but it was to no avail. His heart rate jumped to higher levels than I had previously seen.

The hospital staff was trying to limit the amount of people that came in to visit. My friend Maimon stopped by, since he was released early from reserve duty. He was shot at in the morning hours outside Qalkilia, which he said happens all the time. Just five shots, none of them hit, but still…

The amazing Barbara Goldstein managed to organize a TV and VCR for Steve, but to be honest, I don’t know if he is going to be in the mood to watch any movies, and it is also unclear how well he can focus his eyes. Julie arrived at about 7:00pm right after Big Mike’s daily visit. I stayed with her until she left at about 10:45pm.

Today was very frustrating. I kept looking into Steve’s eyes and watching his lips but was unable to understand what he was saying. He did not have many happy looks. Tomorrow I will speak to the social worker and ask about how to deal with all this. When I saw her today she told me that I should not pretend to understand him when I don’t. She said that it was patronizing and demeans our friendship. I could not give Steve any information about his condition since I do not know how much he already knows and am not an expert on speaking with quadriplegic terror victims. I figure that they have psychiatrists or doctors to do that. I don’t even know that much about the medical side since I get thrown out of the ICU whenever the doctors come around.

In any case, I’m pretty sure how Steve feels about his condition. Later this evening, I spoke with Barbara Goldstein about my concerns. She reminded me that I was there to make sure that Steve wants to live. But he is unable to move, unable to feel anything from the neck down, unable to breathe on his own and unable to speak. I told her that I was pretty sure that he does not want to live like this.
“Tell him that he needs to get through this first tough part, and you can always kill him later.

Wednesday, June 4, 2003

Steve Guns Update

Prelude: Mob Scene In the ICU

Even when I try to go out and blow off some steam, I am constantly assailed by people wanting to know about Steve’s condition. Some tell me stories about how they heard about the incident. One guy, named Dan Vered, told me that he went straight to the hospital when he learned that Steve was there. When he arrived they told him that they had just managed to get the family and friends out of there. The hospital workers said it was such a mob scene that they thought about calling the riot police. Then they realized that half the people visiting WERE the riot police.

Update:

Today was not as bad as yesterday. Steve did not seem as angry and was able to communicate better. Maybe I am able to understand him better. When I arrived today he asked me if I would please get his gun and shoot him. I asked if I should shoot him gang-land style, execution style or to just follow my heart. I think that this is Steve’s sense of humor returning to him. He said that he wants to move, which seemed to indicate that he is willing to try and fight.

At some point he asked how bad it is. I told him it was pretty bad. At another time he was asking about the tube going up his nose. The nasal tube is connected to some kind of blue chalk looking liquid that seems to be his food. He wanted me to take it out. He wanted to know why I put it there in the first place. It took a while to explain to him that I did not stick that tube up his nose.

He is no longer receiving morphine, but instead, they have him on methadone. There are some tubes that are connected to his jugular vein. At some point a nurse came around to remove the tape that is holding the tubes in place. You know how painful it is when you remove a band-aid from a hairy area? Now think of removing something the size of two business cards. Oww. Poor guy, this is one of the only places that he has any sensation, and he’s gotta have a painful one. The nurse said that if she does it slowly it will hurt more. Steve gave her “the look of death.” There is no mistaking that look. His eyes got all wide and wild and angry. The nurse tried to closer his eyelid because she was getting scared. I said, “Meet Steve Guns.”

There was a steady flow of visitors today. Some friends from his army unit showed up including his company commander. The officer would like to make direct contact with Julie to find out how he and the guys can help, whether with money, or food or setting them up with an au pair. There was also a visit by an organization called “One Family” which assists the families of terror victims. They brought flowers. They also wanted to take a picture of me recieving the flowers, which they said they were going to send to their donors in the US.

There are many organizations that assist victims of terror. For a list go to:
http://www.techshoret.com/charities_Israel.htm

Thanks for all your letters of support and encouragement. It means a lot to me, and helps me get through those long shifts at the hospital. If you would like to give me a call the number is …

Thursday, June 5, 2003 Shavuot Eve

When Julie arrived at the hospital, Steve told her that there was an explosion in the hospital. 52 people were injured and the nurse was a real hero and she should be commended on the way that she handled all the injured. Julie was confused and a little curious about all this and decided to ask the nurse about what had happened. The nurse said that as she was removing Steve’s air boots, they popped with a loud bang. This must have given Steve a flashback.

Steve and I are definitely communicating better, but I wouldn’t characterize today as a good day. I arrived at the hospital at 11:00am. Steve told me that he had a fight with Julie. He said he was crying. He was afraid that she may unplug him and he was afraid to die. I reminded him that it is illegal to unplug him, I love him, so does Julie, and we will make sure that nobody unplugs him. Within the hour, he was looking at the tubes of the respirator and kept asking to “open the box.” The box he was referring to is a small box which contains an air filter of some kind that is connected on one side to the tracheotomy and on the other to the incoming and outgoing respirator tubes.

“I can’t do that, Steve.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I do that you will die.”
“No I won’t.”
“Yes you will.”
“I’ll show you.”
“Steve, I can’t.”

This conversation went around in circles for about half an hour.

At one point he threw a tantrum. He was rocking his head up and down and from side to side. He asked to be taken home immediately. He asked us to remove the “zonda,” which is the tube that goes up his nose and to his stomach. Each time that I would refuse his requests he would get angry and frustrated. I was instructed by Julie to keep all the visitors out for the day. Julie, who has been like a rock through this entire ordeal was visibly frayed by the time she had to leave at 3:00pm.

The shavuot holiday was about to start that night. It is traditional to eat dairy on the holiday, so somehow, cheesecake became a traditional holiday treat. My late mother’s cheesecake was a much anticipated holiday treat, looked forward to by friends and family alike. Many of the people who stopped by the hospital brought me cheesecake. One of them was even homemade. Here’s the problem: I don’t like cheesecake! This has caused me to feel like a freak for my entire life. “You don’t like cheesecake? How can you not like cheesecake? Everybody likes cheesecake. You should try this cheesecake, it’s the best! Just try it.” I don’t like cheesecake! I keep refusing the Sam-I-Am-like arguments of all these people. “I do not like it in a car, I will not eat it in a bar…”

I tried passing off the cheesecake to two different shifts of nurses, but they did not want the stuff. I finally brought it out to the waiting room and gave it to the Christian Arab family that seems to live there. They thanked me profusely. But more on them and the fate of the cheesecakes later.

Hot Tea in the Zonda

A short play

The scene: Thursday afternoon in the ICU, Hadassah Hospital, Ein Kerem, Jerusalem, Israel. The holiday of Shavuot is about to start. The hospital is slowing down and getting quiteter. The coffee stand, cafteteria and sundries shop are all closed. As the rest of the city was making last minute preparations for the holiday, the afternoon shift at the hospital was heading into the last quarter of an 8 hour shift. There are two nurses: Felix, a short, dark haired, spectacled man and a tall short haired woman; both are Russian. They wear teal hospital scrubs. Steve and Adam are trying to communicate. Steve has expressed that he feels as if there is ice on his feet. Adam is having a hard time understanding Steve. He keeps asking him to slow down and get small bits of information out. Steve rolls his eyes. No sound comes out of his mouth, but his lips move and his facial expressions convey a lot of meaning.

Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: “I want…”
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: What? Slow down. Gimme a second Steve.
Steve: (rolls eyes)
Adam: Sorry. (Adam removes his hat, scratches the top of his head like an inquisitive chimp, gives a long exhale, places the backs of his wrists on his hips, rolls his head around, gives another long exhale.) Lets try again.
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: “I want…”
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: A drink? You want water? You want me to get they syringe and squirt the water into your mouth or do want to suck on the sponge?
Steve: (nods his head no)
Adam: No? You don’t want a drink?
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: “I want…a beer?”
Steve: (nods no, moves his lips with more emphasis.)
Adam: “Tea?”
Steve: (nods yes)
Adam: Iced tea?
Stevc: (nods no)
Adam: Hot tea?
Steve: (nods yes, moves lips)
Adam: The tube? The zonda? You want me to pour hot tea into the zonda? What kind of tea do you want? Herbal?
Steve: (nods no)
Adam: Earl Grey? English Breakfast? Darjeeling?
Steve: (moves lips with emphasis)
Adam: “Earl Grey.”
Steve: (nods “sure, fine, whatever)
Adam: Let me just sum up here. You want me to get some hot tea and pour it though the zonda.
Steve: (nods yes, moves lips)
Adam: What? It will cure your lungs?
Steve: (nods no, moves lips)
Adam: “It will…” What? Cure your.
Steve: (nods no, moves lips)
Adam: Hang on, hang on. (Adam removes his hat, scratches the top of his head like an inquisitive chimp, gives a long exhale, places the backs of his wrists on his hips, rolls his head around, gives another long exhale.) Slow down Steve, let’s try again.
Steve: (rolls eyes, moves lips)
Adam: “It will…”
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: “warm my feet?”
Steve: (nods yes, expression of satisfaction spreads over his face)
Adam: So lets sum up again. You want me to get some hot tea and pour it down the zonda so that it warms your feet.
Steve: (nods yes)
Adam: The coffee stand is closed. It’s erev shavuot. I can’t get you tea.
Steve: (looks toward nurses station, moves lips)
Adam: “Ask him?” You want me to go ask Felix for some hot tea? Steve, this guy does not like me at all. I don’t think he’s gonna give you any tea.
Steve: (moves lips)
Adam: “Ask him. Now. Right NOW!” OK Steve, I’ll ask him right now.

(Adam walks toward nurses station. Felix is seated with his back toward the nurses desk. He is preoccupied with deep thoughts, perhaps pondering the nature of the universe or reminiscing about some deep and obscure passage he once read in Tolstoy. Adam is afraid to disturb him, since he has been rebuffed by him previously in the same hour. Adam walks back to Steve’s bed.)

Adam: This guy won’t give me the time of day.
Steve: (moves lips and cranes his head around)
Adam: “Ask the other one.”
Steve: (nods yes)
Adam: OK. I’ll go ask the other one.

(Adam gingerly approaches the other nurse.)

Adam: Steve wants some hot tea in his zonda. He says it will warm up his feet.
Nurse: Hot tea?
Adam: Yes. Earl Grey preferably.
Nurse: I will ask the doctor.
(Nurse walks out of the room and Adam walks back to Steve’s bed.)
Adam: She’s gonna go ask the doc.
Steve: (nods yes, OK)
(Nurse walks back in.)
Nurse: The doctor says that it’s OK to give him tea, but not hot tea, warm tea.
Adam: That’ll do.
Nurse: And you should give it to him with a sponge.
Adam: OK. Uh, but we don’t have any tea, would you mind making us some?
Nurse: Alright. (walks off to the nurses room)
Adam: Good news Steve. She’s going to get us some tea and I can give it to you with the sponge.
Steve: (nods OK)

End of the Hot Tea in the Zonda Scene

***
At the end of the day, Barbara Goldstein came to see how Steve and I were doing. I’ve begun to think that she is just as concerned for my sanity as she is for Steve’s well being. We walked outside to wait for Ari and Steph who were going to escort me back to the house for the holiday. I recounted all the whacky events of the day and the emotional roller coaster he had put us on. When my escorts arrived, Barbara said that she was going to swing by the “mother and child ward” or what we call in the US, the maternity ward. She said that she likes to end her day on a positive note.

Friday June 6, 2003 Shavuot Day

This morning I missed Julie’s phone call. It was about 11:50am. I had been up for about an hour and a half. I overslept and Ari and I missed shul, which was a bummer, because I was looking forward to hearing the haftorah for Shavuot which is the first chapter of the book of Ezekiel. The story is a wild one, where Ezikiel is standing by a river in Babylon to where the Jews have just been exiled after the destruction of the first Temple. Standing by the River Chebar, he sees the skies open up and god come down on a chariot, accompanied by mystical four-headed creatures with sparks and lightning whirring about their feet. The meaning of this story is that even though they have just been exiled to another country, god will be there for his people in exile. It is a message of comfort.

Over the night, we learned that Fred’s mother had died. So when I woke up, he was at the synagogue asking his rabbi about the proper Jewish laws concerning death and mourning over a holiday and shabbat. I was lazing around the house, drinking coffee, eating freshly baked home made sticky buns. When Fred got home, we continued drinking coffee and talking. Fred and I watched a team of ants try to drag a crumb down into their hole in the flooring.

When I called Julie back, she asked when I was planning on coming. I said that I would be there within half an hour. She said that she had to go help her mother with the kids. Steve was sleeping, a video was on, and the sound and lights from the television lulled him to sleep. She reminded me to bring tapes and said that she would probably leave before I got there.

I quickly slapped in my contact lenses and got dressed. Then I went out to the enclosed patio to tell the famil that I was heading up to the hospital. I could see that they were concerned, I know they worry that I spend too much time in the hospital. I asked Ari to please bring me up some lunch when they finished eating.

I did the nature walk up the path, through the dorm parking lot, up the stairs near the Nursing School dorms, around the road, through the medical school and up the stairs to the ICU. It took me about 23 minutes from hanging up the phone to being in the hospital. Steve was sleeping with a video on, and Julie had already left. As the movie, Spiderman, was over, I faded out the sound, put on Lord of the Rings and faded the sound back in.

Then Felix, who was back on duty, asked me to step out since they were going to put Steve into the chair. “Great,” I thought. “The Chair. Steve loooves The Chair!” I went outside and called Julie.

“Is he in a good mood today?”
“Well, yeah, better than yesterday.”
“He’s not giving you a hard time?”
“No, but he thought he was at a wedding and kept asking me if I saw his friends Sheera and Debbie there. He also kept looking at the ceiling and asking me to take something down from there.”
“Uhhhhh…OK. Sounds like he may be having a good trip today.”

As I got off the phone, I thought that Barbara Goldstein is probably right, they are giving him ecstasy. A half hour later I tried to get back in, but the guard told me that they are still doing some kind of treatment on him and that I should wait another half hour.

There is a family of Christian Arabs that spend all their time in the hospital right near us. I’m not sure what is wrong with their relative, a middle aged man with a scary looking x-ray, who is in an isolation room right off Steve’s room. They camp out in the waiting room, and when I say camp out I mean CAMP OUT. They have a few mattresses, a cooler and a few bins with food, clothing, blankets and other stuff. We exchange glances and pleasantries from time to time.

When I returned about half an hour later the guard said they still could not let me in because they were changing shifts. The Christain Arab family in the waiting room were sitting down to a pretty serious lunch. There were about a dozen family members sitting around a waiting room coffee table. It seemed like some of the male relatives were able to come out for the meal and join the women folk and young men who were normally there. There were salads, cooked dishes, breads, all kinds of stuff laid out. An older man wearing a kafiyya waved me over.

“Ta’al hone,” which means “come here” in Arabic. They were offering me to sit down with them.

“La, la, uhhhhh, shookrahn,” I replied in my poor Arabic, smiling broadly and trying to convey a “no thanks.” I really did not want to seem rude, but Ari was going to head up to the hospital with lunch from the house. It was a very sweet gesture though.

Since I could not walk into the ICU ward, I decided tofind a secluded corner of the hospital and do some writing. As I was working on my notes, one of the young men from the Christian Arab family walked by. He asked me in Hebrew why I did not sit down with them. I explained that they were bringing me lunch any moment from the house, but thanks so much for the offer. He thanked me for the cheesecake. I told him it was no problem. He wished me a “chag sameach” or “happy holiday” in Hebrew. I thanked him again.

On the one hand, this trip has really radicalized me politically. I keep moving further and further to the right. On the other hand, I am touched by the kindness I have seen in individual Arabs. One of Steve’s doctors is a Palestinian woman. The best nurse he has is a young thin Arab named Mohammed. Mohammed makes more of an effort to understand Steve and always treats him with patience and compassion. The real tragdy of this conflict is that there are human beings on both sides. Us Jews are really not so bad when you get to know us. Arabs are not so bad when you get to know them. Some things are strikingly similar between the two, like the food. It’s not Arabic food or Jewish food, it’s all what you may call “Middle-Eastern food,” but around here we just call it “food.”

Saturday June 7, 2003 Shabbat

Steve was very difficult. Julie told me that he was describing a wedding or something where his friends were around. He was saying some thing to her about his friends Sheera and Debbie. He also was under the impression that there was some kind of writing on the ceiling and florescent lighting. He kept asking what was written there. He told Julie that he had put on his sneakers that morning and gone for a walk, some 300 meters. “Kol hakavod,” (Hebrew for: way to go!) Julie told him.

“Don’t tell me kol hakavod,” was Steve’s snippy retort. I would have said something else to Steve, since I do not indulge his fantasies.

Steve told us about the incident on the bus, or the way that he remembered it. He was sitting in the four person seat with his back to the driver. There was a cop sitting opposite him. The cop thought there was something strange about the passenger that got on. Steve is under the impression that he fired four bullets into the terrorist. I think his memory of this event may be faulty. They found him with his gun in hand and with a bullet in the chaimber, but the clip was full, no shots were fired.

Ari accompanied me to the hospital today. He has been spending a lot of time there. He works really hard all week, and has an eleven month old baby at home. His shabbat should be spent sleeping, but he has been a good friend to both me and Steve. After Julie left we asked him a little more about some of the strange things that he was telling us. Julie had misinterpreted his comment on Sheera and Debbie. They were not at an invisible wedding. Steve was trying to say, “Sheera and Debbie sold their souls to Chino.” We had no idea what any of that stuff meant. I was not aware that Chino was buying souls, but anything is possible in Jerusalem. We tried to see the words he kept referring to in the florescent lighting. There is a clear plastic panel with a water drop pattern that covers the lights. I assured him that there was no writing on it, but that if I was as drugged as he was staring at the same lights and ceiling for three weeks, I might see the same thing.

Steve complained about not getting enough oxygen.
“Call the nurse.”
“The nurse is busy.”
“Call the nurse, NOW!”
“OK, OK, I’ll call the nurse.”
“This tube is not connected.”
“Yes it is, Steve. Look, it’s connected to this machine right here.”
“It’s not doing anything.”
“It seems to be functioning. What do you think, it’s some kind of Fisher-Price respirator?”

Steve could not get comfortable all day. He either complained about not enough air, the tube up his nose, or his position. We moved him around, put pillows under him, propped his head up, moved the bed up and down, got him water, called the doctors and nurses. Nothing was going well for Steve. He seemed frustrated with us and was in a surly mood. “Move your shoulders for me, Steve.”

“I ain’t moving shit for you!”

Sunday, June 8, 2003

Last night I got together with some good friends. We all met at Steph and Ari’s apartment on Tzfira Street in the German Colony. I used to live on an apartment further down the street. We chose to convene over there because we were planning on going to see a concert in the Jerusalem Theater. As we walked uphill to the theater, I kept looking around for the fruit bat that used to live in the loquat tree in front of our apartment.

The concert was a performance by the Black Hebrews from Dimona. They played an excellent set of music, which was comprised of songs that most Israelis know. They had a great range: soul, funk, reggae and even some dance music. At some point they covered an Israeli song “Ani Ve’atah” or “You and I will change the world.” The familiar old song evoked a more optimistic era, a time when it seemed the future held great potential.

For the few hours that we were at the concert there was no terrorism, suicide bombers, political turmoil and high unemployment. For those few hours we were just a group of friends, listening to some great music in a lovely setting.

I slept in town so I could head down to Misrad Ha’Pnim or the Ministry of the Interior and renew my Israeli passport. In the past Misrad Ha’Pnim was a nightmare; any task there would automatically consume an entire day. There was one time when Steve came to Misrad Ha’Pnim to hang out with me as I was sitting there waiting for my number to be called. Steve brought cold drinks and I brought sandwiches. Unfortunately, I was done in only three hours. Steve was always a good friend in the way that he would make an effort and take time out of his day in order to brighten mine.

I grabbed an “Iced Aroma” on my way to Misrad Ha’Pnim. Aroma is a chain of sandwich and coffee shops that have spread through Israel over the past 5-6 years. The sandwiches are tasty and their iced-frappachino-like drink is heavenly. In a time when many food businesses have been forced to shut down, Aroma continues to expand. I assume that they are able to survive because of their robust product offering. Starbucks has nothing on them…

Once I finished renewing my passport I trekked down to the old city. I had not yet seen The Western Wall. I got there in the noonday sun. I said a few psalms that I felt were appropriate. The wall is filled with notes; it functions as a kind of fax machine to god. Ari put in a few notes over the past few weeks asking to heal Steve. I found myself having a difficult time with my prayers. Among my personal prayers, I asked god to give me the strength I need to get through difficult times. I also asked for help in retaining my faith. But in the end it felt like I was talking to a wall.

I got the the hospital by 3:00pm. Steve had a very high fever, which caused him to be mellow. He was in a decent mood though. We talked about some old times, reviewed some of our old jokes and sayings. I told him about my night. It was not such a bad day in comparison with the past few.

Barbara Goldstein took me out for dinner directly from the hospital. We went to a great restaurant in the German Colony called Olive. The steak was phenomenal. The gesture was very sweet on her part. She just wanted to do something nice for me because I was doing something nice for Steve.

***
I am going to end the narrative here. I need to get up to the hospital for my last day here. I will not send a summary of the events, we can talk about this stuff next time we meet. I was going to end up with some kind of pessimistic moaning about moving from one rung of hell to another, but that’s not how I feel right now. If I learned anything on this trip it’s that life is precious and short, and love is a special gift. Think about all the loved ones around you and do something nice for them. Now is a great time to share the love that we have been blessed with.

Peace from Israel