Back to Hadassah Hospital

It is over 35 years since I last underwent a surgical procedure, and now another (smaller) one is looming up ahead of me. Once again I find myself taking the winding route that leads up to the hospital on the outskirts of Jerusalem. When Hadassah Hospital was first conceived and built, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, David Ben-Gurion declared that the good air and peaceful surroundings of the Jerusalem Hills would help to cure the patients. The circular building, which was built with the help of the Hadassah Organization of America and was revolutionary in its day, with a view over the scenery from every ward, was based on advanced theories of medicine and drew much of its inspiration from the American way of life.

My stay in the hospital all those years ago was lengthy and painful but had a happy outcome. I emerged from it on the road to recovery, and I have enjoyed reasonable health ever since. When we moved to Mevasseret Zion, almost 25 years ago, the view from our house across the valley included Hadassah Hospital, as it nestled cosily on the hillside opposite. Over the years buildings have been added, and most recently an enormous new edifice, the Davidson Building, has been completed. Now the hospital complex occupies a large part of the hillside, and looks more like a factory than a hospital. In addition to the hospital it now incorporates a medical school, a dental school, nurses’ and students’ quarters, a hotel, a shopping centre, and many more things besides with which I am not acquainted.

In addition, medicine has advanced greatly in that period. I remember X-rays of various nasty kinds, but there was no such thing as Ultrasound, a CAT scan, an MRI or microscopic surgery. The surgeon who operated on me 35 years ago has long retired (and attends many of the concerts I go to), and several cadres of medical experts have come and gone meanwhile.

Today, the staff at the hospital is much greater in number and in variety. Sitting in a corridor, waiting for one of the high-tech procedures, an endless succession of uniformed individuals passes by, of every colour and ethnic affiliation, speaking almost every language under the sun. The patients, too, are drawn from all walks of Israeli society. I’m told that medical treatment is also accorded (for payment) to people from other countries, and that this constitutes a considerable source of income for the hospital.

The procedures. too. both medical and administrative, have been changed and updated. Thirty-five years ago there were no computers, and the ragged cardboard files that bulged with the various pieces of paper recording each patients’ progress had to be summoned from an arcane archive somewhere in the building. Today all that has gone and the X-ray I had done in one department was instantly sent to my computerised file, to be duly retrieved by the relevant physician.

I am also conscious of a marked change in the attitude of the personnel towards patients. I am just another member of the public (I decided not to take the private medical option, even though this was open to me through the medical insurance plan at my previous place of employment), using the same facilities that are available and compulsory for the entire Israeli population, but I can definitely sense a warmer, kinder attitude on the part of nurses, clerks, and physicians. Another welcome innovation is the pre-operative process, which involves a day spent in a pleasant, modern part of the hospital, and in which the patient is seen successively by a member of the surgical team, an anaesthetist, and a nurse, all of whom endeavour to explain the procedure. This is both efficient, as it does not require an overnight stay, and helpful, as it prepares you for what is to come. Hot and cold drinks are provided, and kind volunteers come round bringing sandwiches and cake.

I have been told that I will be staying in a ward in the brand new building, with every imaginable convenience and comfort. Each bed in a single or double room has its own TV, unlimited internet access, and even a safe for valuables. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but at least I’m not dreading it as much as I might have otherwise.

Lovely London

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Brahms' German Requiem, British Museum, Don Giovanni, ENO, Hob Nobs, Ilona Domnitch, McVities, One Man, Oxford Street, Parliament Choir, Simon Over, Southbank Sinfonia, Two Guvnors, War Horse, Westminster Cathedral

London in November. The thought conjures up visions of grey, cold misery as one fights through the driving rain to get to one’s destination, be it school, work or home. Such are, in fact, my memories of my childhood and youth in the city, at a time when central heating was less prevalent and perhaps what one wore offered less protection from the elements.

But the ten days or so that Yigal and I spent in London this month belied that image. For a start, when one is in a hotel not too far from the British Museum and the centre you spend less time travelling and more time enjoying the wide range of cultural entertainment on offer. Second of all, the autumn colours of the trees in the park that could be seen from our hotel window offered a daily show of aesthetic delight that simply demanded to be photographed or even painted in their changing hues of gold, red and brown (see above). We even had some days of beautiful sunshine, and hardly any rain at all.

Spending a few days in London means that I indulge in a feast of theatre and music, and this trip was no exception. The highlight this time, and the main reason for our visit, was a performance of Brahms’ German Requiem at Westminster Cathedral in which the soprano solo was sung by a young artiste, Ilona Domnitch, whose career was originally fostered by my late father, among others. Ilona has managed to forge a path for herself in England, and now resides there on a permanent basis. The cavernous interior of Westminster Cathedral is not the best venue for a musical performance, as the acoustics are decidedly unfriendly, but the orchestra of young musicians who form the Southbank Sinfonia, together with two choirs, all of this conducted by Simon Over, managed to get the message across. One of the two choirs, the Parliament Choir, consists of people who work at the Palace of Westminster, peers and MPs, and it was a heartening sight to see and hear them all, young and old, viscounts, lords, ladies and commoners, as they raised their voices in Brahms’ great work.

We also went to see several plays, some of them moving (War Horse). others rib-ticklingly funny (One Man, Two Guvnors), as well as an opera (Don Giovanni)
at the ENO (English National Opera), which means that it was sung in English, in a clever and entertaining translation by Jeremy Sams and a refreshingly modern production directed by Rufus Norris, giving the eighteenth century piece a thoroughly contemporary feel.

And above all, visiting London means meeting old friends and catching up on news and views, finding out what everyone’s up to, what’s new with their families and lives, and assuring one another that ‘you haven’t changed a bit,’ or admiring one another’s new hairstyle. There is also an opportunity to do some important shopping, mainly for such delicacies as McVities digestive biscuits (but only with plain chocolate), Hob-Nobs (a more recent and very delicious addition to the McVities stable), but also to take a stroll along Oxford Street in order to see what’s on offer, remember the annual outings there with my mother and my two sisters and also to try and buy a little something for myself. This year I also managed to catch the Xmas lights and decorated shop-windows, which were as delightful as ever.

But the last few days of our visit were overshadowed by events on Israel’s southern border, and it was with no little trepidation that we read the newspaper each morning and evening (given away free outside the tube stations and generally containing a mountain of rubbish focused on TV celebs and Tweets culled from social networking sites). This is the nonsense which people read every day to pass the time as they travel to and from work, and it makes you wonder what it does to their minds. It is not a comfortable feeling to be away from Israel when you know that the situation is tense, and now that we are back in our home near Jerusalem we can begin to understand what the country has been going through this last week, with radio programmes being interrupted by announcements stating which areas are being targeted by rockets.

Where has Winter Gone?

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Jerusalem, rain, water shortage

We’re already well into November. Here in Jerusalem we’ve hardly had a drop of rain, even though it’s officially winter in Israel. How do I know it’s officially winter? First of all, orthodox Jews started praying for rain over a month ago. Second of all, drivers have to have their lights on throughout the day on intercity roads. But the temperatures remain high, and we are still unable to wear our warm winter clothes. The coats and boots remain in the wardrobe, lonely and unwanted for now.

There has been some rain in the north of the country, but that hasn’t lasted very long and hasn’t extended down south. I think the plant life has become quite confused by this climatic oddity. The leaves on the trees are still green, and we are not able to enjoy their changing colours, as the populations of Europe and America do. Even the dratted elm tree in our next-door neighbour’s garden hasn’t yet shed its leaves. This is quite a blessing for me personally as they land directly onto my entrance path and stairs, making them slippery and dangerous, and obliging us to be continually sweeping them up. But even that has its positive side, as we afterwards use those leaves for kindling in the log fire that heats our house, as and when heat is needed. Needless to say, we haven’t had to use it yet. Worst of all, we haven’t yet been able to turn the sprinklers in our garden off.

Frivolity aside, naturally the main sufferer from all this is agriculture. Crops that rely on the winter rainfall have to be watered, and that is doubtless a strain on the pocket of the farmers, as well as constituting a drain on Israel’s limited water resources. To make matters worse, the price of water has recently been raised inordinately in the wake of a law requiring water to be supplied by a recognised company rather than a local authority, as has been the case till now. I have heard rumours that all kinds of dirty deals were involved in this transition, but there’s no way of proving anything.

On the one hand, it cannot be denied that there’s a certain pleasure in waking up every morning to a bright blue sky and sunshine, accompanied by the birds twittering in the trees. This is further supplemented by hearing about the cold, rain and winds afflicting northern Europe and the USA (don’t get me wrong, I’m not glad about Hurricane Sandy in America, just relieved we don’t get hurricanes here in Israel). On the other, waking up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof is also gratifying, in the sense that one knows the dry earth is finally having its thirst assuaged, the air is being cleansed, and it’s time to hunt down our umbrellas before leaving the house.

Walking in downtown Jerusalem one is assailed by the carefree and polyglot atmosphere, with elderly Russian immigrants playing music of various kinds, enlivening the atmosphere, orthodox and secular Jews ambling happily from one shop to another, young people gathered in cafés and eateries, enjoying the balmy weather, Arab women with headscarves wound around their heads, accompanied by their menfolk and children, strolling along as they celebrate the Muslim festival, and everyone, both young and old, benefiting from the relatively unpolluted air now that cars and buses are almost completely banned from the centre of town.

Everyone wants the rain, of course. But equally, everyone is ready to take advantage of the pleasant weather as long as it lasts.

No matter, rain is forecast for the weekend, or next week, or some time soon. Meanwhile, people like me, who hanker for some real winter weather, can take themselves off to London for a few days, to get a taste of the real thing. Watch this space for a full report when I get back in another two weeks!

Apartheid in Israel, True or False?

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Amira Hass, democracy in Israel, Gideon Levy, Haaretz, Moshe Arens

Many people who read the front page of Haaretz one day last week while they were having their breakfast, including yours truly, suddenly felt sick to their stomach. In huge, black letters the main front-page headline read: ‘69% of Israelis Support Apartheid.’ The text of the article, which occupied most of the front page and continued in interior pages, described an opinion poll whose results supposedly pointed to that conclusion.

No matter that a few days later, in an article signed by Moshe Arens, a former Likud minister, that conclusion was refuted as constituting a gross misinterpretation of the statistics of the poll. Following that, the paper ran an article signed by Haaretz journalist Gideon Levy, an Israeli journalist who can be said to belong to the extreme left-wing camp, contained an apology for misleading the paper’s readers, as well as a notice in small print on behalf of the newspaper’s editors attempting to set the record straight.

But the damage has been done. Not a few people out there in Israel doubtless rejoiced at that spurious headline, but the obscene use of the word apartheid in the same sentence as the name of Israel causes many others, and I would venture to say most others, to blush in shame and anger.

An editorial policy that permits such a travesty in what purports to be the paper for thinking people is a serious cause for concern. One might think that the tail has started wagging the dog, providing ammunition for those elements in Israel who criticise the paper, regarding it as the mouthpiece of the PLO. One knows what to expect when an article carries the byline ‘Gideon Levy’ (or Amira Hass, for that matter), and need not read the very predictable text. However, it seems to me foolish, to say the least, to let such individuals take over the front page of the paper and blazon their views in thick, black headlines. Not only is it a distortion of the facts, it projects an image of Israel which is deleterious in the extreme. And it’s not as if our detractors need additional ammunition!

And as if proof were needed (which it isn’t), at 9.30 on the morning of 31st October I happened to be in the shopping mall in the suburb of Jerusalem near my home, and in the vicinity of which there are several Arab villages. The sight which met my eyes impelled me to take out my camera and take the two photographs which head this post. At adjacent tables in the upstairs food court two groups of people were sitting side by side, enjoying a morning cup of coffee. At one set of tables was the local pensioners’ club, and next to them was a group of Arab women doing the same. Granted, they weren’t sitting at the same tables, but there was nothing to stop them doing so if they wanted to.

Anyone who claims that apartheid exists in Israel doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Go into any hospital anywhere in Israel and you’ll find Arab and Jewish patients lying side by side, Arab and Jewish doctors working side by side, and Arab and Jewish nurses, both male and female, tending to the patients side by side. At a recent medical procedure I underwent at a clinic in downtown Jerusalem the X-ray technician was a charming and beautiful young Arab woman wearing a headscarf and a white lab coat. Get onto any bus or train in Jerusalem and you’ll find Arabs and Jews standing and sitting next to one another. Stores and eateries all over Jerusalem serve and are served by Arabs as well as Jews.

Israel is a democratic country. Every Arab citizen in Israel has the vote, and can elect their representatives to the Knesset. At present there are ten such representatives there, in accordance with the proportion of Arabs within Israel’s predominantly Jewish population.

So, please, let’s not have any more nonsense about apartheid in Israel.