900 Heroines

900 home attendants enjoy a night out in appreciation of their hours and hours of giving

It’s time for lunch and Bracha*, the home attendant, prepared a nice meal of tuna salad with sliced pickles just the way her patient, Chaya* likes it. The corn soup was in the green bowl, Chaya’s favorite. “Come, Chaya. I made you such a nice lunch. Chaya raced to the table and, in a fury, hurled the corn soup at Bracha and dumped the plate of tuna into the garbage.  In horror, Bracha watched as each slice of pickle she had so lovingly prepared flew across the kitchen. “You hate me! You’re trying to poison me!” Hurt? Probably. Sad? It was a beautiful lunch. Frustrated? Well, she is human… Angry? Of course not.  Bracha is an Ezer Mizion home attendant and has absorbed the caring, compassionate and understanding ambience of the organization. She knew it was the Alzheimers that was making Chaya act this way.

“Come, Chaya,” she crooned with her arms around her patient. “Don’t cry. You know I love you. Just sit down for a few minutes and I’ll make you another lunch just the way you like it.”

“With pickle slices?”

“Of course, because I love you.”

Giving, day in and day out, to the elderly
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The Only Thing that’s Impossible Is Saying No

“There’s nothing like Ezer Mizion!” These are the words of a grateful employee who…we’ll let her tell her story.

“On Friday afternoon, my niece’s little girl came home from gan with a high fever. She was put to bed but, only a few minutes later,  there in the thick of her erev Shabbos (pre-Sabbath) cooking, ‘something’ pushed my niece to check on her. As her mother stood there in the doorway, the child turned blue, then purple, then black. Terrified, my niece ran outside holding her daughter and screaming for help.  The end of part one is that the hospital diagnosed it as a genetic reaction to sudden high temperatures. The drama was over but now came the practical questions. If they were released on Shabbos (Sabbath) where would they go? My niece was expecting and traumatized. And, in addition, they would want to be near a hospital just in case. So I dialed the number that is often first on the list of every shaken family member. Within moments, I received a call back. A suite is reserved for her at Oranit, Ezer Mizion’s guest home for families dealing with cancer. A lovely suite with all the trimmings. My niece couldn’t stop thanking them. And me? I couldn’t be more proud to be part of the Ezer Mizion family.

She may be right, you know, when she says there’s nothing like Ezer Mizion. What would she have said had she seen Moriah enter Oranit to put smiles on the faces of young cancer patients. What’s unusual about that, you ask. True, it was Moriah’s regular day to come. She comes every week. But today was… her wedding day. Busy? Certainly. But she’s never miss her weekly visit with Ezer Mizion’s cancer kids.

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More than a Room Number

pr doorOur precious elderly holocaust survivors have reached their golden years. Some are surrounded by family with constant reminders of the place they have created for themselves in the world. Others are not so fortunate. Over 500 are living in nursing homes, no longer in charge of their lives. They have become a number, the patient in Room 346, and are no longer able to feel themselves to be individuals. How to recapture the feeling of self-identity? Continue reading More than a Room NumberFacebooktwitterpinterestlinkedinmail