When any of us think of solitary confinement our minds usually wander to prisoners who are sitting alone in their cells day in and day out with little future ahead of them. I remember how we worried when we heard that people like Natan Scharansky were sitting in a bleak desolate cell with little light.
Last week the words came to mind in an entirely different way. I spent several hours sitting in the Lenox Hill Hospital waiting room as I awaited word on the outcome of minor surgery that my amazing Mordechai was having done. As pristinely clean as the room was, and as kind as the hospital staff is, our minds seem to take us on a long lonely road awhile awaiting outcomes of this sort.
I thought of Danny Greene, a fantastic guy who as a child went with his parents to the Montreal Children’s Hospital for minor surgery on his elbow and there was an accident with the amount of anesthesia that he received–since early childhood he has been a quadriplegic. His mind works perfectly but his physical condition is extremely challenging.
I thought of the excitement of maternity waiting rooms when the outcome is generally miraculous. While waiting the other day they began to page over the loudspeaker system for a team to come running to the labor room for someone in distress. These are the occasions we do not want to think about.
I remember waiting while my father had surgery many years ago. The doctor walked out to speak with my mother, my brother, and me, and before we had a chance to greet him he informed us that my father was in extremely grave condition.
I watched a doctor come to speak with an African American gentleman who was sitting alone and saw the urgency on his face when he saw the doctor. Immediately the doctor informed him that everything was good. When the gentleman sat down he immediately crossed himself–his way of thanking God. Another doctor called upon two other African American gentlemen and from the look on his face, and his desire to take them to another room privately, one could tell that the news was not what they wanted to hear.
As I sat there waiting for the outcome for what we were told was a simple procedure, I thought of my entire life and the person who has always been most important to me. I always told my children that he came before them. I remembered all of the wonderful times and the difficult challenges that we faced together and I recalled his strength and his love for me when things became overwhelmingly challenging. I realized that as outstanding as the doctor might be, little is really in our hands.
I davened to Hashem to take good care of his physician and to watch over my special life partner.
In the midst of my day dreaming, it was my turn to be suddenly approached by the doctor with the great news that all was well. It is a humbling experience to be surrounded by strangers all in various stages of anxiety.
Once again, another Hodu Lashem Ki Tov moment.
By Nina Glick
