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True story - siblings of cancer survivor



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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Mon, May 16 2016, 1:39 pm
Can't remember the magazine but maybe someone else does? Story of silbing who was a survivor and now expects all the siblings to dance to his tune all the time...

Anyone have the name of the magazine/which issue?

Thanks.
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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Mon, May 16 2016, 9:46 pm
BUMP
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mha3484




 
 
    
 

Post Mon, May 16 2016, 10:28 pm
It was the ami I think in the true story that's in the main magazine.
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the world's best mom




 
 
    
 

Post Mon, May 16 2016, 11:30 pm
It was the Ami, either the Truth or Consequences, or the Human Experience. Maybe the issue from right before Pesach?
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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Tue, May 17 2016, 3:23 pm
Thanks, that gives me an idea which pile to search through!
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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Tue, May 17 2016, 10:17 pm
K, I've got it here and if anyone really wants to read it I can email.

It's Ami Living April 6, 2106 "My brother's keeper - we shielded our sibling" under Truth or Consequences as told to Chani Wachs.

I was actually surprised it didn't get more letters, but either the topic is too sensitive or it was right before Pesach & those who might have written were just too buy, and later forgot about it.

I didn't forget about it, that's why I went back to find it.

Perhaps because I've seen this in several ways & I am concerned that the organizations that do so much for families coping with illness (lo aleynu velo aleichem) may not be equipping them to ever cope independently later in life.
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yogabird




 
 
    
 

Post Tue, May 17 2016, 11:29 pm
Huh?
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amother
Pumpkin


 

Post Tue, May 17 2016, 11:45 pm
amother wrote:
K, I've got it here and if anyone really wants to read it I can email.

It's Ami Living April 6, 2106 "My brother's keeper - we shielded our sibling" under Truth or Consequences as told to Chani Wachs.

I was actually surprised it didn't get more letters, but either the topic is too sensitive or it was right before Pesach & those who might have written were just too buy, and later forgot about it.

I didn't forget about it, that's why I went back to find it.

Perhaps because I've seen this in several ways & I am concerned that the organizations that do so much for families coping with illness (lo aleynu velo aleichem) may not be equipping them to ever cope independently later in life.


I didn't read the article but as a survivor myself I'd say it's not the organizations that are doing something wrong - quite the opposite - but the entire family dynamics that goes through upheaval needs a help after the crisis passes.

Psychosocial help in addition to physical help would probably be a smart addition to the package.
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amother
Slategray


 

Post Tue, May 17 2016, 11:51 pm
Could you post the story?
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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Wed, May 18 2016, 9:25 pm
I don't think I can upload a pdf. I scanned the text, not sure if it will fit. Please excuse typos, it's the scanner's fault!

APRIL 6 2016 I AMI.LIVING
TRUTH OR CONSEQUENCES

AS TOLD TO CHANIE WACHS
My Brothers Keeper

CHESED IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
My brother Shloimy had been sick as a young child and teenager. He spent most of those years in and out of the hospital. Much of the time he did not attend cheder or yeshivah. Everything in our home revolved around him. When he was doing well, things were cheery, but when things were rocky with him, well, things were rocky for all of us! It was trying, to say the least. Shloimy got lots of attention—he was showered with toys and gadgets. He was the only one of us brothers who got to fly to the Rebbe. Yearly. But we siblings were not even remotely jealous. After all Shloimy had a hard life. But Shloimy was difficult. He was occasionally volatile and demanding, and we all davened and hoped for a refuah shleimah.

Baruch Hashem, he finally went into remission. His medical ordeal was over but it wasn't easy for him to get his life back together. He had gaps in his education, making yeshivah challenging. He wasn't accustomed to obeying authority. He was used to freedom, not discipline. There were rough patches as he tried to navigate life. My parents worried endlessly.

Now he was finally doing well in a new yeshivah in Eretz Yisrael, where I lived for the first few years of my marriage. To the cautious delight of the family he was settling in. I was happy his yeshivah was close by, so I could be keep an eye on him.

To the world, Shloimy seemed supremely confident. My wife Surele certainly thought so. I explained to her that Shloimy needs lots of support. He was trying to re-acclimate to society and yeshivah life. I spent a lot of time with him and bought him gifts. On Shavuos, I gave up learning with my chavrusa to learn with Shloimy.

"He needs me," I explained to Surele, when she wondered about the significant time I devoted to him.

We opened our home to Shloimy many Shabbosim. He was spoiled, and foods that never otherwise graced our table were served when he was a guest. "It's important," I said firmly. Surele accepted his need. Ignoring our tight budget, she splurged; She often gave up plans to join her family if Shloimy wanted to come to us. We declined Yom Tov invitations if he relied on us for a meal. Sometimes Surele minded a little, but not terribly. After all, isn’t that what family is for?

And so Shloimy was high on our priority list, and many Purim, Shavuos, Shabbos and Yom Tov plans were made around him during those years.

One time we took him along wit friends who had invited us. I felt a responsibility to Shloimy. "Sure, he can come,” they assured us. But after the seudah, Shloimy mimicked our host's not-so-harmonious rendition of Kol Mekadesh.

Surele was annoyed. "They were so welcoming to him. He was so bad-mannered to mimic Yanky — in front of him, too!” I agreed with her, but pointed Shloimy didn't realize these kinds of things.

Surele was unimpressed. "Realize what exactly? That this family had him over for a meal? That it's offensive to poke people especially in front of their relatives?”

This wasn't the first or last time Shloimy would be inconsiderate. Still, Surele remained loyal. She occasionally grumbled "It's always Shloimy—whatever he wants.” But she was still kind to him and hospitable, even when it wasn't easy. “He suffered," she said sooner or later.” I can’t judge him." And whenever he did something for for us, she made sure to express her gratitude liberally.

Baruch Hashem, Shloimy flourished. With great siyata dishmaya, he got engaged to a sincere girl who appreciated and admired him. Our family was overjoyed. Shloimy was elated. He was a chasan, with perfectly sweet kallah!

His kallah Yitty knew little of the details of Shloimy's history, and what she did know was mostly from his perspective. She was aware that he had been sick and that it had been hard on him. She had no clue what the rest of us had lived through—she was just ecstatic with her wonderful chasan, so bright and charismatic. All the women in the family warmly and enthusiastically congratulated her. "You have a great chasan! So talented and special. Shloimy can do anything he sets his mind to—he's really gifted."
Yitty beamed proudly and adoringly. It was an unbelievable simchah. Shloimy was a celebrity. A few years later, Shloimy and Yitty had a baby.

The family continued to derive tremendous nachas from them. Shloimy had settled down and gotten a good job. By this time both of us were back home in America. The family, still continued to support him: He wanted to spend Lag Ba'Omer in Meron; he was helped with the tickets. The Rebbe was making a chasunah? Shloimy and Yitty were there. Shloimy still liked his opinion to be taken seriously, and we gave him the respect he craved. He wanted to host the. Purim seudah? Okay, we canceled our plans; we made it work for him; Shloimy was still Shloimy, but he was doing well.

Our family had also grown over the years. We now, had a few little ones. Sukkos came right after the birth of a baby, a baby, who cried a lot. Surele was trying to cook for Yom Tov and take care of the kids on no sleep. I was unsuccessfully trying to build our sukkah. I tried calling some cousins and neighbors, but no one was available to help.

Shloimy! He was not making, Yom Tov. He was joining his in-laws. He was on vacation from work And he was very handy; he could put up a sukkah in his sleep. He had been the family go-to fix-it guy since age nine. I called him, desperate.

"Come and give me a hand. Please," I begged. "Show me what to do, at least."

Yom Tov was coming, we had a thousand things to do and no help. We had a difficult newborn. Shloimy felt bad. He knew how useless I was.

"I could probably do it in two hours," he conceded. "Let ask Yitty..." I heard him briefly explain the question to his wife.”

"You already put up your parents' sukkah!" Yitty whispered. I had taken him a few hours. She was banking on him being "free”, not spending their vacation time putting up his relatives' sukkos. There was another whispered exchange.

Finally, Shloimy got back on the phone. "I can come and help you for two hours."

Surele hovered anxiously as I hung up. "What did he say? Can he come?"
"Yes, he's coming."
She sensed my hesitation. "What?" she pressed. "What’s the problem?"
"Nothing," I finally said. “I think Yitty wasn't so happy.” This was not new. Yitty could not stand why her husband always being summoned to help his parents and his brothers. sure, she understood that Shloimy was very handy, but she felt it wasn’t fair of his parents and siblings to freely ask for help. For my part, I felt I could legitimately ask him for a favor. He was my brother and I had bailed him out plenty of times. He could lend me a hand in my time of need; if Yitty didn't understand, too bad.

Surele was getting hot under the collar. "Don't worry," I assured her. her. "He's my brother—it's fine."
Surele opened her mouth. I could see she had misgivings. Then she shrugged and held her tongue.
There was no one else I could call, and Yom Toy was approaching fast.
Shloimy arrived and saved the day. Our sukkah was up and

She was right. Shloimy liked to be praised. He had acce
enthusiastic appreciation, had not brushed me off. No '
for you or, "Hey,, that's what brothers are for"—it was n
"You owe me one!" But I was used to it. I didn't really care.
standing. I was all smiles, and Surele visibly relieved. We showered him with fervent blessings. On his way out, Surele thoughtfully handed Shloimy a box of Belgian chocolate for his wife. "Please thank Yitty," she instructed graciously. He inclined his head benevolently.
I escorted Shloimy to his car, thanking him nonstop. He looked quite cheerful. "And your wife," I added, piling it on thick. "She is a tzaddekes mamash. Please tell her a groiseyasher koach." As Shloimy turned on the ignition, he said, "Tell your wife she should call Yitty to thank her personally. She should call her."

"Okay," I agreed.
"Shloimy asked if you could call Yitty to thank her for sparing him,” I told Surele when I came back inside. "I sent her chocolate with my thanks!" she protested..., "Wasn't enough, obviously. He wants you to call her."
Surele was quiet, then it all poured out in a rush. "No! I am not calling her! I can't bear the thought! Whenever I thank her for Shloimy's help she never makes it sound like it was no problem. So Shloimy helped you put up your sukkah for two hours. Who else should help us put up our. sukkah if not your brother? No one thanked me all those years when we hosted Shloimy and helped him a thousand times—not your mother, no one.

She was right. No one had thanked her. Not because they didn’t appreciate it or realize what it entailed, but because my family was inconveniencing ourselves, worrying about him. Anything to keep him happy. And Shloimy wasn't the type to reflect on whether someone was being maz'ri'ach for him. All those favors and efforts Surele had put in for him had gone over his head.

"It's Sukkos time! Everyone needs help with their sukkah. We just had a baby. I thanked him and told him to thank YItty. I refuse to go down on my hands and knees.” Surele was close to tears.

She was right. Shloimy liked to be praised. He had accepted my enthusiastic appreciation, had not brushed me off. No “Anything for you” or, “hey, that’s what brothers are for” – it was more like “You owe me one!”. But I was used to it. I didn’t really care. He did. I was sure that deep down he was aware that he had been on the receiving end many, many times. I was happy for him to feel good about himself. My sukkah was up – what more could I ask for. I had always assumed that Surele shared my attitude.

“I do understand,” she continued. “I understand, I’ve heard it all, it’s important for him to feel respected, admired and valued, and of course it would be terrible if Yitty knew how much we all did for Shloimy and what a brat he was. But I’m not as good as a you. She makes me feel like a shnorrer. I’m fed up with expressing my thanks and hearing Yitty again sigh about how he gives up all his time for everyone else.”

The Shloimy Needs to Feel Good campaign, as far as Surele was concerned, was over. As was the Everything for Shloimy and Yitty battle cry. I didn't persuade Surele to make the call.

I am now careful not to ask Shloimy for too many favors. “Let’s
manage without him," Surele insists. "He doesn't see it your way. It bothers his wife. Just forget about anything you ever did for him.”

Yitty continues to believe that her husband is supreme generous with his talents and time. She continues to protect him from going out of his way too much. She continues to ensure that we don't take advantage of his goodness. She has no inkling of how much we all sacrificed for him. We don't intend to enlighten her.
She sees her husband as a giving, selfless tzaddik—the way I would want my wife to see me.
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amother
Chartreuse


 

Post Fri, May 27 2016, 3:37 pm
Pumpkin amother wrote:
Quote:
Psychosocial help in addition to physical help would probably be a smart addition to the package.


Pumpkin, do you think the organizations need to be told that is needed?
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