By: Shoshana Gross

 

Prologue

Once upon a time, there was a story called “normal,” full of homework and laundry, sedarim and suppers, dishes and bedtime. Until…

Dishes became diagnosis.

Supper became struggle.

And normal became nightmare.

It’s a story so many people never imagine writing.

And when Chai Lifeline becomes part of the narrative, we don’t change this new reality. But together, we can change the story.

 

Chapter 1

Totty

I’m late for seder. Again.

I rush into Beis Shalom, stammering excuses to my chavrusa. He doesn’t know that behind the words of the sugya, other words are going in endless circles around my mind.

“Your wife has cancer.”

“Where’s Mommy?”

I buy endless containers of takeout, chauffeur my kids around town, and sit through sedarim. But I can’t think. If my mind strays too far, I can’t be strong.

I tell my kids Mommy has the flu and ignore the disbelief in my teenage daughter’s eyes.

Through the unfamiliarity of dentist appointments and PTA and bedtimes (that don’t happen), I daven to Hashem that He give me the strength to hold everything together.

I can’t stop to feel.

***

Rochie

I’m making supper. Again.

Even takeout gets boring, so tonight I made ziti and salad. It was cheesy, gooey, and satisfying—but I’m empty.

Mommy’s here, but not really here. She’s always too tired to talk, and Totty’s so busy he can’t help with my mefarshim. Mrs. Kleinberg’s Chumash test is in two days, and I’m never gonna pass.

Last night, Totty admitted that Mommy’s very sick, and I have no one to talk to. How do you tell your best friend that you’re afraid your mother’s going to die? I’m davening like I never davened before, and yesterday Shaina marveled at how long it took me to say Minchah. I just changed the subject.

For now, my life is a blur of chores. Laundry.  Reuven’s homework. Gitty’s snacks. And loneliness.

***

Reuven

Rebbi didn’t punish me. Again.

I wish Rebbi would punish me like everyone else because Yitzy made fun of me yesterday and said Rebbi’s playing favorites. Is Rebbi being nice because he knows Mommy’s sick? It’s for sure not just the flu. She’s always exhausted, and I heard her throwing up last night. I keep thinking about Mommy, so it’s tough to listen in class. Sometimes I whisper. Or make jokes. I laugh, but nothing is really funny.

Mommy’s always running to appointments. My neighbors, Feivy and Binyomin, asked me questions when we were shooting hoops. “Why is your Totty home early again? Where are your parents going?”

I shrugged. How could I say I’m terrified that I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t know what to do?

***

Gitty

Somebody new is picking me up from playgroup. Again.

Mommy used to, but today it’s Baila’s Mommy. Her car smells funny.

Totty says Mommy’s sick. When I get sick, I swallow yucky cherry-flavored medicine and I’m fine. But I heard Mommy crying yesterday, and mommies don’t cry.

When I wake up at night, Rochie gives me a drink and a hug. Where’s Mommy?

***

Mommy

I adjust the sheitel. Again.

It doesn’t sit right anymore, but I don’t want pitying glances.

We’re managing ourselves… I think. The house is clean, and Maria is coming extra hours this week. Yosef arranged Gitty’s pickup, and Rochie’s been making supper. In between appointments, nausea, guilt, and a mental haze, I tell myself we can do this.

Night is an endless round of retching and the deep ache of knowing my children are scared. I have no words to comfort them. Every day I breathe doctors and chemo and fear. When it’s dark and the house is quiet, I cry. And I daven. Because we’re in Hashem’s hands, and we hold on through the pain.

I don’t want help. But I do.

 

 

Chapter 2

Totty

I’m on time to seder. Again.

I slip behind my shtender, and I can once more taste the sweetness of a Tosafos.

At 6:30 a.m., a wonderful Chai Lifeline volunteer discreetly whisked my wife to her hours-long appointment in Manhattan. The morning routine was surprisingly calm—maybe because I was, knowing that my wife is in good hands.

When seder is over, I see her text: Baruch Hashem, M’s driving me home in a few hours. Don’t know what we’d do without Chai Lifeline.

I don’t either.

Chai Lifeline Big Sisters are scheduled to take my kids to the Art Spot after school, and a fresh supper will be delivered when they come home. And another amazing volunteer will help with the bedtime routine so I have time to learn with Reuven, like only a totty can. And I will have time to say Shema with my children.

I can finally focus on my family.

Our case manager put us in touch with a Chai Lifeline crisis interventionist who understood the fear and anxieties of my children, and how I didn’t want to reveal my wife’s difficult diagnosis. But he empowered me to share the news in an age-appropriate way with each child.  We talked and cried and talked some more, and the terror has left their eyes.

I also spoke with Reuven’s rebbi. He finally understands that Reuven needs both sensitivity and structure, and I arranged for the rebbi to receive guidance from the Chai Lifeline interventionist. And I know it’s working because Reuven is once more running to board his bus in the morning.

With strength to rely on, I can be strong for my family.

***

Rochie

I’m enjoying supper I didn’t make. Again.

It comes hot and fresh, in gorgeous containers. There’s fruit and cake, and the crisp breading on the schnitzel is perfect. Chai Lifeline uses our recipes, so their food tastes exactly like Mommy’s. The freezer is completely stocked, so when Mommy’s home, she can still pull out some food and feed us like she used to. As if we were just a regular family.

Crazy story: Just as we were about to leave for Bubby and Zaidy’s house for Pesach, Mommy received test results and had to be hospitalized. The house was a wreck, and we were totally unprepared for Yom Tov. Chai Lifeline sent a cleaning crew, and everything we needed, from wine to desserts. Their Yom Tov package was stunning, with treats and toys and even magazines. There were also special activities for Chai Lifeline families on Chol Hamoed!

And tonight, I’m going to Clubs. Once a month, I get together with other girls who know about appointments and fear, about juggling homework and wondering if someone you love will ever get better. We crack jokes, laugh, and have fun at paint nights, ceramics… and for a few precious hours, I’m a normal high school girl.

***

Reuven

Rebbi punished me today. Again.

I know it sounds crazy, but I’m grateful. Now my friends don’t treat me differently, and after class, Rebbi gave me tips for concentrating. He cares.

Mommy has cancer (not the flu), but Totty says she’s taking strong medicine, and with Hashem’s help, she’ll get better.

Our Chai Lifeline Big Sisters take us to the Art Spot after school during Mommy’s appointments, and it’s an awesome place to play and shmooze. Big Sisters are the best! I told Chaya that I always wanted to try an Escape Room—so many of my friends say it’s epic. And I said that last year, Mommy and Totty decided we could all go to an Escape Room for my next birthday. But with Mommy sick this year, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t say anything to my parents because I didn’t want Mommy to feel bad.

Then on my birthday, Totty took us for a drive. We ended up outside a huge building, where Chaya was waiting.

“Your Escape Room.” She grinned, pointing to the door. “It’s all planned! Go inside!”

And when we were all figuring out the clues, talking and laughing together? The world outside disappeared, as if by entering the Escape Room, I also escaped the worry and the fear. But really, that’s what happens every time Chai Lifeline helps us.

***

Gitty

I learned a new “sickness” word. Again.

Immunocompromised. That means we can’t touch Mommy until we wash our hands ’cuz then she’ll be sick again. But it’s fun to wash my hands because Chai Lifeline put a machine in our house that makes the soap come down by itself!

My Totty has time to pick me up from playgroup. And I love my Chai Lifeline Big Sisters! They play with me, and they helped us make shalach manos for Purim. We went to Gourmet Glatt and got the best nosh (the sour kind), and they packaged it with us at the Art Spot. We even made special packages for morahs.

When we came home, I showed Mommy, and she smiled. That made me smile too.

***

Mommy

I adjust the sheitel. Again.

This time it sits perfectly. My Chai Lifeline case manager sent me to an incredible lady who taught me how to take care of myself, even while battling cancer.

Malky is my case manager, but she’s also a friend, a confidant, and the only person I’ll call at 2:00 a.m. when I’m worried about test results. Every week she checks in regularly, seeing what I need and offering what I would never ask.

Someone to drive me to appointments? Always.

Clothing for my kids? I forgot, but she remembered. Volunteers took everyone shopping, and now beautifully tailored clothing hangs in every closet.

A difficult round of radiation? Malky swings by with coffee and my favorite cinnamon Danish.

Stuck in the hospital over Shabbos? Malky brings a basket of goodies for the endless hours.

Feeling lonely? There’s a beautiful Chai Lifeline get-together with other women facing similar struggles.

Shavuos is coming, and I’m in the hospital. The doctors think I’ll be discharged before Yom Tov, but I know better than to hope too hard. I want to be home. I want to be with my kids so badly that it’s a physical ache. The uncertainty is wrenching.

But while I battle nausea and submit to the nurses and the medications, I’m also able to smile. I know there’s an army of volunteers taking care of every detail of Yom Tov. Nothing will be missing—from cheesecake to clothes to flowers—and there’ll be a Yom Tov package that brings everyone joy. I thought I knew what Chai Lifeline did… until I needed them.

The shadow of fear is always in my heart, but Hashem led me to the help I needed. I can take care of myself and focus on my family because I’m not alone. I’m embraced by the everything that is Chai Lifeline.

 

Epilogue

Chai Lifeline is part of so many stories. Stories of older patients. Younger patients. Cancer. Pediatric illnesses, both common and rare. Chai Lifeline is there, chapter after chapter. Turning frightening facts into memorable moments. Transforming terror and loneliness into courage and hope.

Because together, we can change the story.