“Shabbos is Shabbos,” he said with finality. “Shabbos comes first. Looking for heterim is not the proper approach”
As told to Shoshana Gross
The phone explodes in my ear, jarring me awake in a shrill tidal wave of noise. Almost mechanically I start to reach for it when the realization strikes — “Shabbos!” Why is my phone ringing? Through bleary eyes, the name of the chief, our senior resident at the hospital, flashes on my caller ID. She knows it’s Shabbos, and I’m supposed to be off this weekend… but the jeopardy!
Heart sinking, I remember that Estelle, a fellow resident, had asked me the week before if I could take over her Saturday night jeopardy. Any resident on jeopardy is the substitute if something happens to a resident or doctor who’s supposed to be on call. It rarely happens, but this phone call means the person I’m replacing as jeopardy is on duty.
“Sorry, Dr. Rubin,” the chief tells me when I answer. “But we need you here as a replacement. Be here by six a.m.”
I let my groggy husband know. “I’ll take an Uber. I need my things with me, and carrying is a d’Oraisa.” He nods, and I begin to dress in the semidarkness.
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