Coincidences

Life's Felicitous Subtleties

Coincidences

I’ve been blessed with a truly remarkable congregation. It’s not something I ever took lightly. My prayers of gratitude were offered often, and my words of appreciation were voiced and written. Kindness was genuine, generosity of time and resources always seemed to meet the immediate needs, derech eretz – respect in how people treated one another was normative, the Temple made being a rabbi a daily gift.

This is a quick account of one person, one very dear and charming woman, wife of an adoring husband, and mother of three talented young adults. Friendly, outgoing, a volunteer for many things, of a sudden she wasn’t feeling well. After a few false diagnoses, she received the very worst imaginable – Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease. Within a few months an insidious paralysis became noticeable. With each passing month it became more and more evident. She was losing strength in her extremities.

She was an avid reader, so when I called once a week or so we usually talked about books. There were no iPads or Kindle Readers in those days, and the fading dexterity in her hands made holding a book difficult.

Coincidence #1: I called one afternoon to find out that we just happened to be reading the very same book, and that we were even in the same chapter, but she couldn’t continue reading because she could no longer turn the pages. We picked a time each day for me to come over and finish our book together. She’d close her eyes as I read – 20 minutes, a few chapters was enough for each session. I’d tell her what time to expect me the next day. That week of reading and finishing the book and discussing it together was for me an experience to savor.

Her husband and children were her main care givers at first. They helped her transition from walker to wheelchair, then to oxygen and to help with eating and then to feeding ... and then, when it became too difficult for them, they got her the needed nursing care. When her ability to speak disappeared, her nurse created a large poster board with letters, numbers, and 25 or so of the most common words, and had it laminated with a thick cardboard backing. It rested lightly on the patient’s lap or on a tray placed across the arms of her wheelchair. In responding to others she used a pointer to indicate letters and words, thus forming sentences. Though a slow and tedious process communication remained possible. When she could no longer move the pointer, she blinked yes or no, and communication was now up to the talker to frame questions so as to elicit a cogent response.

We’ve all experienced coincidences. Some are of an undramatic sort – you start to make a call to someone and just then the phone rings and that very person is on the line. You’re thinking about taking a trip to this place or that and a neighbor or a relative out of the blue suggests that ‘you should go there.’ A friend once opined that coincidences are a sure sign that angels are at work. I’m not into angelology, but I’ve had more than a few coincidence experiences.

Coincidence #2: A year or so later, her ALS had now progressed toward an end stage. Sight and hearing and the ability to blink were still functioning, but not much else. She was in the hospital for the flu. Two of her children and her home care nurse were there when I walked into her room. She blinked hello, and as I greeted the kids, the nurse said that the oldest sibling needed to speak to me, but that she was not expected back to town for another day. I told them to have her give me a call whenever she got in.

At that moment the hospital room door opened and there is the daughter who did indeed need to speak with me. We went into the hall to talk. She wasn’t due back to town until tomorrow, but something made her want to get back to the hospital today and somehow she expected that I would be here at this time today. Well now, that’s interesting.

What she wanted to tell me was that this private nurse was leaving that week and that Mom needed a new home care giver who was excellent at administering to the needs of an ALS patient who has lost all functions except for sight and hearing. I told her that we had had another Temple member with ALS who had died about four years ago. He had an outstanding nurse whose first name was Debbie. I didn’t remember her last name, but I thought I could find it. She was an outstanding nurse to the patient, and a great help to his wife and children. I haven’t seen her in all this time. She only did private patient care in homes. I have no idea as to whether she is available or even if she is still taking patients, but I’ll check it out for you.

“Thanks, Rabbi. For Mom, it would be a great comfort. She really wants to remain at home. And, so, for us it would be life saving.”

“I’ll make some calls and get back to you in a day or so.”

Coincidence #3: I had a few other Temple members to see one floor down. I spent a few minutes with each saying hello and being relieved to see that there was nothing serious with any of them. In the pre-HIPAA law days, clergy was given full access to the list of patients by religion in the hospital. There was one non-member on the list who I knew quite well from various committees and community involvements. The world would not come to an abrupt end if I did not stop in to see him. He wouldn’t even know that I knew he was here. Do I stop by? Don’t I? Okay, I’m already here at the hospital, and he’s on the next floor down. I’ll take a few minutes to chat and recite a Mi’shehberach – prayer for healing.

I take the stairs down to the second floor, walk down a long hallway and into an alcove that serves as the entrance to the patient’s room. Standing in the alcove is his wife. I ask what happened and then how he’s doing. It was serious, she tells me, but he seems to be improving. Then as I turn to walk into the room, she says, “Wait just a moment, Rabbi. He has an old friend of the family in there now. They’ll be finished shortly and then I’ll bet he will be delighted to see you.”

We sat in the two alcove chairs and continued the conversation. My back is to the hospital room’s door. I hear it open, and the wife rises and says, “Rabbi, I’d like you to meet our dear friend,” I rise and turn ....

“Debbie,” I nearly scream her name.

“Rabbi Z, I haven’t seen you in ... what has it been, three or four years?”

“Please pardon us,” I say to the wife, “but I have something of vital importance to tell Debbie. I need to whisk her away for a few minutes, but I’ll be back shortly. I’ll stop in to see your husband.”

Without explaining, I usher Debbie to the elevator. On the 5th floor, I take her hand and rush her to the door of my ALS patient, and there I pause and tell her about the woman, her family, and her situation.

“I’ll talk with her, Rabbi. You introduce me and I’ll take it from there. I’m between patients now, and if we connect, I’ll work out the details with her husband. It’s so good to see you again. She gives me a hug. Don’t feel that you have to stay here. I can handle the situation. Please do stop in and share a few words of comfort to my friend downstairs.”

After introducing Debbie to the family, I said my good-byes. She immediately sat in front of her new patient and began to speak softly with her. The patient’s lids were blinking.

As I walked out into the hallway, it was as if I could almost hear angels whispering.