W e were visiting my parents back in Boston and the long walk to shul I remember as being a real pain when I was a kid was now a great gift. It gave me some extra time to spend with my father an oncologist and my boys.
But on Shabbos afternoon about five minutes before we were slated to head back for Minchah my dad’s pager started buzzing and he was forced to answer a call about a very ill patient who needed admission to the hospital. Having been used to my dad’s work as a cancer specialist since I was a kid I quickly gathered that he was not going to be able make the walk to shul that afternoon. My oldest son Moshe Dovid however was quite disappointed.
“Why can’t Zeidy just tell them to go to the hospital like you do so that he can come with us?” he asked as we headed out the door.
“Zeidy’s patients are sick in a different way than Abba’s patients ” I began to explain.
