Dear Chevra,
I'm starting a series of short essays on my unintended life in Jerusalem. As many of you may know, my sister and I visited our parents here in January, and soon after we returned Mom fell and broke her hip, then developed pneumonia at the hospital. Meanwhile Dad, who has some dementia, was left at the apartment on his own. My parents have no family and no longer have close friends here. My dad is 97 and my mom is 91. The crisis that we knew would one day arise, in large part because of their total unwillingness to accept outside help and prepare for the future, was among us. It was a clinging to an independence of bygone days, where they tried like heck to avoid the stigma of old age.
My sister Rimona and I are back here in Jerusalem, nursing my Mom back to health, cooking, cleaning, repairing, keeping the peace between them, meeting with social workers, physiotherapists, occupational therapists, doctors, nurses, government officials, bank officials, and home helpers. Add to this picture our limited Hebrew, the Israeli bureaucracy, sharing until recently cramped quarters in my parents' apartment, and dealing with their outbursts of anger and resentment toward each other and periodically towards us, and you kind of get the idea. A vacation in the Holy Land. Boy, that felt good getting that off my chest - whew!
My purpose is writing these essays is not to give a blow by blow description of our life here or to continue ranting- that would bore you to death, and me as well. Rather, I believe big challenges in life can create unique, and sometimes bizarre experiences, sometimes funny, sometimes exasperating, sometimes insightful. So these essays are snippets of some experiences to share with you.
B'rachot,
Barak
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