He was only getting worse, until he started eating better
Almost a decade ago, Levi Weiss was roughhousing with his kids on the couch when he suddenly let out a moan of pain.
It was his knee.
It was also Rosh Hashanah, but Levi stayed on the couch the rest of the Yom Tov, icing his knee and biting his tongue to keep from yelling out in pain. The Weisses were living in Ramat Eshkol, far away from family, juggling three little ones under the age of three, and they felt alone and frightened in the face of the unknown. On Motzaei Yom Tov, they reached out to Benny Fisher, the medical askan. Benny pulled some strings and got them an appointment for the following day with the head of the orthopedic department at Har Hatzofim hospital.
When the pompous doctor gave Levi’s knee a cursory glance and declared it an old basketball injury, they accepted it without question. And thus followed some of the most challenging years of the Weisses’ life. Over the next decade, Levi had flare-ups constantly. Mostly it was in his knee, sometimes his ankle, and during one fateful incident, his toe. The pain was so bad he would sit a foot away from the table to ensure none of the little kids would accidentally kick him in the leg.
“So many times,” Naama admits, “I felt entirely alone. Physically, like when he couldn’t attend shul on Simchas Torah because of a flare-up, and my kids were begging neighbors to throw them in the air during Moshe Emes, but also emotionally. Levi was the one in agony, but I felt drained, emotionally exhausted by his pain. Then there was the kidney stones episode, which we didn’t realize was related to all his other ‘injuries.’
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