OTHER VIEWS
Back From The Dead
Los Angeles
I am determined to learn nothing
from my cancer.
Last month, I had lung
surgery known as a thoracoto-
my. A cancerous tumor in my lower
left lobe is gone. I'll have chemothera-
py, and pretty soon I'll be bald. That's
all I care to know about this complete-
ly- hideous, unprovoked and unpre-
dictable disease until the CT scan says
that the cancer on my chest wall is
under control.
I don't have a prayer of realizing
this goal, do I? One way or another, I
am destined to meander through the
bramble of "meaning" we impose on
any affliction. If I don't do it for
myself, you'll do it for me. That's the
way we humans are built. We are
"meaning-makers," genetically
inclined to connect the dots between
disparate events. And Jews, I think,
are the best at it.
A friend came over today in the
spirit of bikur cholim (visiting the
sick), just to tell me he envied my
grand moment, the make-or-
break confrontation with
reality
Forget it. I want my can-
cer to be just a disease blip
that, given the best medical
attention in the world, will
soon be over and out.
I don't want it to be poetry,
adventure, a journey. I don't
want my life to become,
4
God forbid, heroic
metaphor, sermon or midrash
(learning). I don't want to look
into cause and effect, stress and
the mind-body connection. Fat
chance.
It began seconds after
surgery; my impulsive,
chaotic pursuit of "under-
standing." The wheels of my
gurney "kerplunked" down the long
hallway, and then a strong voice call-
ing to me:
"Marlene! Refuah shlemah —
speedy recovery!"
I opened my eyes to see my dear
friend, Cantor Chayim Frenkel of
Kehillat Israel in suburban Los Ange-
les, standing by my side. Chayim's
voice, both buoyant and grave, pene-
trated right through the anesthesia
and warmed me. In my stupor, he
clung to me, praying for my welfare.
My heart lifted.
Marlene Adler Marks is a senior
columnist at the Jewish Journal of
Greater Los Angeles. Her e-mail address
is wmnsvoice@aol.com
3/23
2001
32
LIFELINES from page 31
But why was
Chayim there?
My mind, fren-
zied from post-
surab ery, hunted
and pecked for
meaning.
MARLENE
ADLER MARKS
Special
An Angel?
The Frenkels,
Chayim and his
wife Marsi, had
Commentary
just had their sec-
ond baby, Molly,
in the same hospital. I was thrilled for
the Frenkels, but now a vague, lint-
like terror floated by.
First, my mind replayed the
sight and sound of Chayim waving at
me. Then, I went back in time and
recalled the cantor as he had stood at
the bimah (dais) officiating at my
daughter's
borderline of life? For hours, I could
not settle down.
That was my first post-surgical con-
frontation with ancient superstition,
though certainly not my last. Worse
yet, after the ancient bubbemeises
(Grandmother's tales), came the mod-
ern ones — created by those with
learning.
The gist of these theories is that
nothing happens by accident, that
everything is as God plans it, includ-
ing, I suppose, my cancer.
Rubbish. These literary devices
can be heartwarming as one takes
the plunge into marriage or child
rearing. But for random, life-threat-
ening situations, they can be debili-
tating or worse. Must I fight my
own tradition by thinking that I'm
not only getting chemo, but crossing
a "narrow bridge;" that I am not
only killing deadly cells, but being
tested by God?
God's Will
Copyrig
.4: Johnson.
Distributed by Los Angeles Tunes SyndicAte.
bat
mitzvah
six years ago.
Then a fast forward, to the Saturday
before, during Torah study.
He had embraced me, offering
prayers and blessings before I'd gone
into the hospital. No cantorial voice
could be more comforting, but for
that reason his was also more terrify-
ing.
Putting these events together, my
warped, drug-soaked brain worried:
Was Chayim a messenger? Was he
somehow an angel, ushering his new
baby in, while I, with such a similar
first name, was moving out? Was this
the famous exchange of souls at the
The idea that God tests us is deep
within Jewish reading, and I'm
not only talking about Job. The
patriarch Abraham endured 10
tests to prove himself worthy of
founding the Jewish people.
Jacob, of course, was tested
spiritually and physically, finally
winning a brutal battle (with
himself or an angel) in which
his name was changed to
Israel.
Joseph's whole life was
deemed a test; sold into slavery
by his brothers, back and forth
into prison. When he and his
brothers are united he says, "You
meant it for evil, but God meant
it for good."
But it isn't so. God does not
really "mean" something evil
for good. Nor is all the world
and its difficulties to be sum-
marized as "Egypt" — Mitzrayim
in Hebrew, meaning "narrow birth
canal."
My cancer isn't "my Egypt." It's my
contact with the best of American
medicine. I'm not praying for free-
dom, for reasons or for literary sym-
bols, but for access to the best clinical
drug trial I can find.
"There's room for both you and
Molly to live a full life," Chayim told
me.
"One day, we'll dance at your
daughter's wedding!"
That's why I'm committed to learn-
ing as little as possible from my can-
cer. Stay with me. ❑
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•
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