Rehabilitation - a caring for every single soul

 We are a varied group, at this rehabilitation day care center in Israel. From Yiddish-speaking Chassidic to secular and sporting tatoos, we are a team united by our dedication to the children, and by a basic respect for each other. The variety that exists within the staff adds to a rich experience and the promise of how good things can be when we are united by a vision - that each child deserves the best chance no matter what his or her state of health.

 

Shattered a bit by a visit from a doctor who was reviewing the cases of the four children who need the most care and, admittedly, according to the dry statistics, may not have the longevity that others have. But they are still precious souls and have their own charm and it is a pleasure to care for them.

 

Let me get to the doctor's visit after I share with you the following:  a couple of weeks ago, we were taking turns working on giving Moshe (pen name for the sake of privacy) chest physical therapy as his saturation was low. After an hour, he would have needed to be referred to the emergency room for higher level acute respiratory therapy. The oxygen supplement was on atr the highest it could be - 3.0 liters, and it looked like his SaO2 (oxygen saturation in his blood) was not maintaining above the minimum 92% in his case (I shoot for 95% like anyone should have).

Finally, Moshe did something I had not seen before, rattled with uncontrolled epilepsy since his premature birth in which he was deprived of oxygen,  his function is decreasing slowly. 

 

But he raised his left hand. I said, "ok Moshe, I will move your arms", and I did passive range of motion of his arms, bringing his SaO2 up to normal, even to the extent that we could wean him off oxygen supplementation.

 

I thought, wow, I cannot prove this but, it seems like Moshe was signalling me what to do to help him. People want to live, even those who are blind and almost immobile due to a birth injury.

 

So the doctor visited, graced us with his presence, meeting us on our level and even throwing in a bit of religious lingo here and there to appeal to what appeared to be, in his eyes, a sadly traditional-minded staff.

 

We were there to secure medical orders regarding the following - how much extra water may we give him, what is the highest level of oxygen we can administer and for how long, how much Buculam medicine can we give and in what time frame?

 

Well he kept steering up to his agenda - let's let nature "take its course" and mourn the boy that will inevitably be mourned.

 

The mother remained poised and calm. She has been hearing this for years. The expression on her face did not change one bit. 

 

She asserted, "I request all interventions for Moshe including advance resuscitation."

 

I took the floor, pointed my questions along with my pen and demanded an answer to the following - "how much fluid may we give? what is the maximum oxygen administration allowed? How much Buculam, in what time fame, and how many times may we administer it? "

 

I got the doctor's answers, if not his agreement.

 

The next day, I said to Moshe, "we are with you all the way, we believe in you, your parents love you very much." And I sang to him the blessing after bread. 

A tear rolled down my cheek that I did not wipe away. 

 

Still morning, I told the assistant that I need a few minutes to recite the morning prayers and started to walk away, lo and behold, Moshe raised his left arm. I grasped it and said, "I will pray right next to you, we are here for you."

 

I recited the morning prayers, Moshe grasped my hand.

 

A tear rolled down my cheek that I did not wipe away.