His pain was great, but his emunah was even greater
During his last shiur toward the end of Shabbos, he was suddenly bombarded with a constellation of intense symptoms he had never felt before in his life: vicious shaking, a splitting headache, high fever. He pushed through the symptoms, continued his shiur, and almost collapsed as he finished.
A kind congregant drove him back to our host family. When I opened the door and the man told me, “your husband is in the car and is really not feeling well,” I thought he was joking.
But the doctor who was quickly summoned knew this wasn’t a joke. “Go straight to the closest emergency room,” he said. “I think your husband has meningitis.”
We spent a few hours in that emergency room, and all the while I had a very strong feeling that we needed to get back to our home in Jerusalem. It was mere days until Rosh Hashanah, and we were scheduled to fly out to the States a few days later, where my husband was set to speak in San Diego for Yom Tov. I had no idea what was wrong, but something was telling me that this was not the right place for him — that we had to get back home, where there was a hospital just 30 seconds away.
Create a free account to keep reading.
