My Mother’s Wish

When I was a young child my mother took care of a cancer patient, who was also a medical doctor. Then suddenly she was gone. I didn’t think about it much and didn't ask my mother. But when I was  older my mother and I once walked by that woman's house.  My  mother asked me "do you remember the time when I cared for the doctor who lived here?"  I said yes that I remembered her and asked my mother  what had happened to her. My mother told me that one of her friends "helped her," and explained that this was a kind of "professional courtesy" carried out by doctors to help  the suffering of one of their own. 

My mother wasn't much of a talker, but at that point i was old enough to understand exactly what she meant.  never heard about it before and my mother was "only a nurse," but I  promised  myself that, when the time comes, if needed, I would do my best to help my mother.  

My mother studied to become a nurse in Mandatory Palestine. In 1936 two new hospitals were founded in Palestine, one in Jerusalem and another one in Petach Tikva near Tel Aviv, and they also offered nursing training. My mother, who immigrated with her family a year earlier, was one of the first nurses to be trained in Tel Aviv.

Growing up in Israel in the early 60s, not many of us had a working mother. Mine worked as a nurse in our community until she retired and was always passionate about nursing and proud of her vocation.

When I was myself a mother we lived in the US, and whenever my daughters were ill they asked me to call their grandmother so that she could give them, over the phone, a medical advice and some kind words.

We returned to Israel in 1994, two years prior to my mother’s passing. I feel grateful for the gift of those two precious years.

It was only natural that when my mother was hospitalized due to strong abdominal pain I remembered my promise, and as soon as she was diagnosed with cancer I asked to see the doctor  and specifically asked him about the hospital's policy regarding euthanasia. My brother, who sat next to me, was startled; he obviously had not talked with my mother about this topic and was not aware of her wish. But I was calm, and the doctor who promised that he would do his best for my mother, was professional and forthcoming.

The next day I took my mother for an additional exam. She sat in a wheelchair and on the way we passed through a beautiful garden overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. “Look mommy” I said, “This is such a beautiful spot.” My mother, who used to love the sea, seemed detached and said nothing. I realized that she was getting ready to leave. When she asked me a little later to take home some of her things, because she “won’t be needing them anymore,” I didn’t protest, and accepted that it was her time.

My mother died that night, for weeks I was relieved, even glad, that her suffering ended. Then I started noticing that something unusual happened. My mother became part of me, and there was plenty of room for the two of us, it felt natural and comfortable.

I just got off the phone with my brother, and as usual we talked about our childhood. We laughed that our mother always asked him not to tell dirty jokes in front of the kleine (my brother is seven years older than me). My mother was right, I was still the little one when she left me at the age of 40, and even today twenty years later, I still get embarrassed when I hear bad language or dirty jokes and I need my mother to protect me.

Bring Back Mother's Day

Growing up in Haifa in In the early 1960s, Mother’s Day was celebrated in Hanukah. Our' was the only city which made the sensible connection between the holiday of light and life, and motherhood.

Then, unfortunately, the only day dedicated to honor our mothers, was taken away and replaced by the politically correct “Family Day.” It is not  the same.

Please keep reading in the Times Of Israel

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/bring-back-mothers-day/

"Call The Midwife:" Nurse Matilda

Recently I heard of several women in their early 40s who grew weary of the business world and decided to go back to school and study nursing. They felt an urge to make a difference and to do a meaningful work. Hospitals in Israel offer today a shortened nursing course for university graduates in mid-career who are ready to make such a change.

Traditionally nursing, together with teaching and social work, was one of the few career choices open for women. The inspiring book by Jennifer Worth, and BBC British TV series it is based on “Call the Midwife,” portray a vivid and accurate picture of life of a nurse in the East End of London in the 1950s. At that time in Britain only 1% of women went to university and only 2% went to professional training courses like nursing.  

A few years earlier across the sea, my mother was such a nurse  in Mandatory Palestine . Like Worth’s midwives, she was always passionate about nursing and proud of her vocation. In 1936 two new hospitals were founded in Palestine, one in Jerusalem and one in the area of Tel Aviv,  and they also offered nursing training. My mother, who immigrated with her family a year earlier, was one of the first nurses to be trained in Palestine.  At that time nurses had to board at the dorms in the hospital and were not allowed to marry in the 3 years of their training. Although my mother had met my father soon after she arrived to Palestine, she only married him 7 years later after graduating from nursing school.

I know that my grandfather insisted that my mother, his only daughter, would pursue further education, but am not sure why, especially as her brothers did not go to university.  I would like to think that he believed in education and wanted her to have a profession so she could be financially independent and would not have to rely on a man. But perhaps, like Rachel’s father Laban, he wanted to test my father's love and endurance.

Only when I grew up I started to appreciate my mother's  determination and diligence; it was close to impossible to be accepted to nursing school in Palestine at that time. There were only the two schools and being a new immigrant she didn’t know the necessary Hebrew. She applied at least two times, but as her Hebrew was not good enough, her application was rejected.  She worked even harder on her language skills and finally was accepted in 1939. 

Like in Britain in the 1950s where only 25% of the mothers worked outside the home, growing up in the in Israel at that time, not many of our mothers worked outside the home. My mother worked as a nurse in our community until she retired, and even afterwards she continued to attend professional lectures because she was curious to learn about new professional developments.

 Although as a child I complained when we went out and people would stop my mother in the street  asking  for medical and personal advice,  I was proud of her knowledge and empathy. I believe that these  two qualities are essential for a nurse, and perhaps they explain my grandfather’s decision: he was sure that my mother had the empathy but helped her acquire the necessary knowledge.  

In honor of my mother, nurse Matilda

Photos: my mother in the hospital during nursing training, with a friend on the right side, graduation my mother is in the center.

PS. The British Mandate in Palestine lasted  from 1920 until 1948, at that year David Ben Gurion declared its independence and the state of Israel was established..