Chemo Day (26.02.08)

Chemo day started so well!

I had a great day, despite the chemo.

As soon as I arrived, a nurse was available to "open my port" (insert a special needle, attached to a tube, for the chemo infusion). Usually there is a line ("queue" for you Brits), and a significant wait (often around 1/2 an hour)

Then, straight away, I had a wonderful massage, which totally relaxed me.

Then I got hooked up to the IV, and hung out with my "gang."

Moshe was with me (he stayed longer because we had a doctor's visit scheduled), my friend LG came from out of town to visit with me, and another friend, EA (who is LG's cousin), also came to visit. I was relaxed and had great company.

Even after Moshe and EA left, I was thrilled to have so much time to "catch up" with LG.

The day got even better!

We were in our own little room (more on that below) and LG revealed that she had packed a delicious "picnic lunch" (quiches, salad & a sinful dessert) and had brought several fun "brain games." (I LOVE games!!) We played Abalone (It's a good game!! I'd never played before) and another called Tipover. I love those types of games!

By the end of the day, I was in such a good mood; I could almost forget the disturbing event that had threatened my usual effervescence.


Disturbing Event:

The TV was on in the "day room." (Not, in and of itself, a terrible thing, though it adds noise, and the room was already full)

From the music and cinematography, it was clear that the movie on TV was a horror film.

Spooky music fills me with dread.

Years ago, I requested that Moshe only watch the X-Files when I'm not home. He found it amusing that, even from across the house, the music haunted me.

But that's the way it is.

And the X-Files is like a children's show compared to the movie that was on TV in the oncology ward.

I tried to ignore the movie, but between the flash of images and the music, it was too much for me. The images and music distracted my attention, and I would glance at the TV and see disturbing, violent images (including graphic sexual violence).

I asked one of my friends to turn off the movie.

Being more courteous than I, she asked around to see if people minded. Most people were not watching and did not mind if the TV was turned off, but one couple was watching the show. So my friend simply lowered the volume.

I will not get into the details about the verbal attack I received from the couple.

I did not engage them in dialogue, beyond explaining my sensitivity and suggesting that they sit closer to the TV. (As I did, a few months ago, when watching a comedy that disturbed another person in the room). The couple (neither of whom was actually hooked up to an IV) was hostile and raised the volume.

I approached the head nurse for assistance, but she felt it was not her place to "get involved," even after I explained that it was a horror film with graphic violence.

The head nurse graciously offered my friends and I a "private room", which was a very comfortable solution for me.

The only negative element was that the chairs were not recliners, and it hurts my back to sit for so long. But it was a small conference room, with comfortable chairs and a table. It was much more private and relaxing.

Overall, I preferred to sit in a less comfortable chair, than to be bombarded by those images, which still flash into my consciousness, even now.

Meanwhile, this encounter has left me disquieted.

There is no justification for subjecting patients to such disturbing images and sounds.

The hospital clearly strives to create a positive environment. In addition to the highly professional and caring staff, there is a bright room with comfortable recliners, and let's not forget about the wonderful massages!

There should be some sort of policy regarding films with tension and violence.

No patients should have to fight for their rights during chemotherapy.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Water (and the Second Temple)

Did you know that in the time of the second Temple, there were two aqueducts bringing water to Jerusalem from the Hevron hills?

The upper aqueduct brought water to the "upper city" and the lower aqueduct brought water to the Temple Mount.

On Friday I attended the postponed tour about water, and I'm glad I did.

It might not sound interesting, but it was! Our guide, Eyal Davidson, who wrote an interesting tour book (currently available in Hebrew only), was excellent.

We began tracking the lower aqueduct at Armon HaNatsiv (near the Tayelet).

From there, we went to Mishkenot Sha'ananim, where we can see a section of the aqueduct that was covered with stone slabs to protect it. There aren't many sections like this anymore, since the stone slabs were often taken and reused in other building projects. Eyal showed us a picture from his book, drawn during the late 19th century from where we were standing in Mishkenot Sha'ananim, of a bridge that carried the water across the Gai Ben Hinnom valley.

Then we crossed over to the other side of Gai Ben Hinnom. We saw a section of the aqueduct that was cemented over by the Turks on Rehov Hativat Yerushalayim, the road leading from Derech Hevron up to Jaffa Gate. The Turks got tired of trying to protect the aqueduct, which was still in use, so they installed ceramic piping and then poured cement over the aqueducts.

We then walked up Kvish HaApifiore (the Pope's Street, so named because it was paved in honor of the Pope's visit), and saw sections of the "renovated" pipe line, including one section that "fell" down.

Then we climbed around the ruins behind the bus stop by by Sha'ar HaAshpot (Dung Gate) and saw where the aqueduct entered the Old City walls. We also saw Mikvaot from Second Temple times.

Then we entered the Old City and saw where the aqueduct reentered the city walls, by the main steps to the Kotel plaza (at the base of the steps leading up to the new Aish HaTorah building).

From there, we tracked the aqueduct to Wilson's Arch, below Sha'ar HaShalshelet, leading onto the Temple Mount. Sha'ar HaShalshelet is a Crusader entrance to the Temple Mount, built on top of the earlier Herodian gate. The aqueduct ran under the gate, then to the right, into a large well on the Temple Mount.

From Sha'ar HaShalshelet, we were able to glance onto the Temple Mount.... (so close, and yet so far away...)

Opposite the gate, is a Turkish Sabil (drinking water fountains), whose water source was from the aqueduct. There are several other Sabil's in the Muslim Quarter which also drew their water from the aqueduct. As well as a Hammam (Turkish Bath), which also had a Mikveh (Jewish ritual bath), which served the local, mainly Jewish population in that area during the 19th century.

Walking around the Mulsim streets, it is easy to forget that this area was once a Jewish neighborhood.

Both the upper and lower aqueducts were still in use, until the first modern pipes were laid, during the British Mandate, in Mahane Yehudah.

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Post Script:

During Shabbat, Moshe's cousin and his wife, M & ZE, stopped by.

ZE told us that there are remnants of upper aqueduct on Derech Hevron, and remnants of the lower aqueduct on the hill opposite our window. We can actually walk along the ridge, alongside the aqueduct.

History is right here, just outside my window.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Hello Old Friend

One of my oldest friends in the world, ER, is in Israel for 2 weeks.

We got together last night and had so much fun, talking and catching up.

We are friends since high school, and we also attended the same university. After that, our paths diverged. He is also a strong Zionist, but his real dream is to be an astronaut.

Talking about high school friends, made me wonder where all my high school friends are these days, and how they are doing.

We swapped information about the friends with whom we are each in touch. But we had many more questions about "what ever happened to....?" than we had answers.

Some of the stories that ER told me were sad. (There is a lot of tragedy in the world) Other stories were just bizarre. And some just magnified the different paths that all of us have taken.

I lived in such a different world back then.

First of all, I felt split in many directions. Socially, my friends were all over the place -- there were my friends from school (mostly, but not exclusively, Jewish, secular and assimilated), my friends from NCSY youth group (Orthodox, FFB), my friends from Habonim youth group (Zionist, non-religious), and my friends from frisbee. (yup, even then I had a "frisbeechevra")

Even within school, I was split. I went to the A-school (Teaneck's Alternative 1 High School -- which deserves a blog post of its own). I also took science courses at Teaneck High. And I also took courses at Fairleigh Dickenson University, as part of my high school curriculum. (Where I passed as a college student, and prayed that nobody discovered that I was really just in high school).

And then there was my involvement in the theatre community, which is how I became the confident, outspoken person that I am. (Can you believe that I used to be really quiet and introverted?)

My friends from high school were so different than I was, in so many ways. But I LOVED them. I loved hanging out with them. I loved hearing their stories. I loved experiencing all their wild adventures vicariously. I loved being on the fringe of their outrageous world.

And I was on the fringe. I was a serious kid. Serious about not taking drugs. Serious about "waiting until I was married." Serious about going to classes. Serious about being Jewish. Serious about Israel. Serious about everything.

Maybe even too serious.

I was on the fringe of the fringe group.

Maybe we all were -- fringes on the fringe.

I think about my high school friends, and I think about the unique paths they took.

Compared to the rest of my high school crowd, I took a unique path as well.

I'm the only one living in Israel. I'm the only one who is "dati leumi" (Religious Zionist). I am the only one who married a religious Jew and whose children are religious Israelis.

To them, I might as well be an astronaut and live on the moon.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

SNOW DAYS

I woke up this morning to a beautiful flurry outside my window....

It was just an illusion. We could see the snow settling on the next hill. But, once again, no snow in Homat Shmuel.

It turns out that, despite appearing to be a tall mountain, Homat Shmuel is actually one of the lowest hills of Jerusalem. We get less snow than anywhere else in Jerusalem!

So, when the radio announced that there would be school today (starting at 9:00, instead of 8:00), we (read: Moshe) woke up the kids, got them ready, and drove them to school.

Moshe dropped off Y, waited for her to confirm that the gate was open, and then drove away.

A minute later, Y called. The gate was open, but her school was locked.

Moshe drove back to pick her up.


*** Meanwhile, back at the ranch... ***

The phone rings.

It is one of the parents from the kids' elementary school.

School is cancelled.

The teachers, and the principal, who live in the "gush" (Gush Etzion), can't get into Jerusalem (THEY have snow!). And the hasa'ot (children's mini busses) aren't working.

I wonder why everyone realized this less than half an hour before school starts. But, no time to argue. (Besides, I don't believe in shooting the messenger)

I run to call Moshe.

"Where are you?" I ask, without bothering to say "hello."

"I just dropped the kids off and am heading home," came his response.

I drop the bomb: "School is cancelled," I inform my dear, sweet husband, knowing how frustrated he will feel driving around and back into the Old City.

Now to track down our kids...

It didn't take long. Some kids from their school were playing outside in the snow. MD & A went to their house and called Moshe.

With kids in the car, and on his way home, again, Moshe called to ask "What about Y?"

I called her school. No answer. I called her teacher. School is open, she answered officially. However, she continued, expecting me to read between the lines, "If most girls don't come, we won't be covering new material." I called Moshe.

"Y called some friends. They are not going to school," he told me.

"Great," I answered, "bring them all home."

Pause.

"What about chemo?" Moshe ventured.

"I'll call the hospital..." I said, hanging up one phone and dialing on the other.

No snow-day for me.


(a special thanks to CV, who braved the snow to keep me company)


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

They Promised Me Snow

I should be in bed, sleeping....

Outside it is windy and rainy.

There is no snow. (yet?)

If there is snow tomorrow, then I won't be able to go to chemo (for the bone drugs, not the actual chemo).

Instead, I'll stay home and play.... very carefully. (remind me to tell you about the last snow day...)

The weather people promised a serious snowstorm.

I LOVE snow!

I am waiting....


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Adventures of a Friday Morning

These last few days, I've been running on empty.

Thursday, I slept late, but not enough. As the morning progressed, I realized that if I took a nap, I would not wake up in time to pick up my kids from school. I forced myself to stay awake.

Then, I dragged myself to pick up my kids. I arrived on time, which was really good, 'cause the weather was awful! (cold and rainy, and windy too)

As usual, teaching swimming invigorated me. For an hour and a half, I felt great. I wasn't the only one. MD was full of energy and continued swimming laps, even after his class was over!

After swimming, I realized we were going to be at least two hours late to a family wedding. Moshe called his mom, who told him the chupah (marriage ceremony) hadn't even begun. So, I shifted back into high gear, and off we went. (you can read all about the wedding here)

Friday morning, I had a hishtalmut (enrichment session) for Migdal David (The Tower of David Museum) tour guides. We were to meet at the Tayelet (The Haas Promenade, overlooking the Old City), and end near the Kotel (Western Wall). It was a bus tour, so I figured I could do it even if I was tired.

I didn't want to leave my car at the Tayelet for the duration of the tour. My car is identifiably Jewish and "nationalist" (note the orange ribbon hanging from my rear-view mirror, and my bumper stickers). It's like a giant sign inviting Arab teens to come and vandalize my car. (Been there, done that). Moshe agreed to drop me off after he took the kids to school.

When I woke up, I didn't check the clock. The kids were home, and Moshe was working at his computer, so it felt early. As I pitter-pattered around, I suddenly noticed the time: 8:00. School was starting...NOW!

I rushed to get ready, pausing only to find a flashlight for the tour. (Finding a working flashlight, with working batteries, is no small feat! MD & A joined the search as I was about to give up. A remembered that she had a small flashlight and MD helped her find it.)

Moshe had to drop me off before he brought the kids to school. The kids would be even later, but there was no choice. The Migdal David hishtalmuyot start on time, and I didn't want to miss the bus. I had to be at the Tayelet by 8:30.

We left the house at 8:15, and Moshe dropped me off at 8:23 - 7 minutes early.

As Moshe drove away, I scanned the small cluster of people there and realized that they were not my group. There was one other person walking around; he also wasn't part of my group.

I wasn't that early. I couldn't be the only one there. Unless....

I called RA, from Migdal David. She was home. The hishtalmut was cancelled, due to inclement weather.

I looked up at the bright sky, and felt the crisp air on my cheeks. The weather was perfect.

Three days ago, the forecast predicted pouring rain. Somehow, I missed the email informing us that the hishtalmut was postponed. (I checked, the email was in my inbox since Tuesday)

I could have been sleeping!!

I hadn't brought a book, and the crisp air would begin to feel cold if I didn't start moving. My friend, NA, lives very close to the Tayelet. I called my husband, then walked to her house. My eldest daughter, Y, was at NA's daughter's b-day party sleepover. Moshe could pick us up at the same time.

It was great to see NA, even for a brief visit. To our chagrin, before we could even drink a cup of coffee, Moshe returned. Y was still in pyjamas, like all the other girls, so we left her there, to be picked up later.

On our way home, Moshe needed to stop at the post office. I wasn't eager to stand on line and I didn't want to wait in the car (remember, no book). Moshe thought the post office would take a few minutes, but I've waited on line a lot longer (sometimes up to half an hour). It was too late to go back to NA's, so I decided to visit, IS, who lives near the post office.

I was eager to share (read: vent) my morning's frustrations. As I entered IS's building, I thought of something Yehudit Kotler suggested at her Rosh Hodesh laughter workshop: changing feelings of frustration to laughter, by laughing at adversity. The laughter releases endorphins, and we feel better. (for more information about laughter and endorphins, click here)

So, I laughed. OK, I chuckled. It was kind of lame, actually. So I tried again. Still, only a chuckle. But the reframing had already taken place.

When I described my morning's mishaps, it was with a spirit of laughter (and just a touch of irony).

In the end, Moshe was right; the post office did not take long. As I finished my tale, Moshe called to tell me he was waiting downstairs.

Walking to meet Moshe, my steps were light, I felt free.

Maybe I'd get my morning nap after all.


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA