Hanging by a Thread: 2

By Avishai Levy

Did you happen to see God on the way?" Ten-year-old Ariel asked, looking into his brown-black eyes at the wind, his lips muttering pleading words.

This is the story of a father (Aviran) in a crazy race against time in order to save the life of his son (Ariel) who is suffering from kidney disease. The book describes the journey past two for 16 years towards achieving kidney healthy for Ariel battling for his life in personal sacrifice, frequent visits to hospitals and meetings with the makers of magic, rabbis hoping to get a signal or give him and his son a little rest.

The book exposes us to storms The emotions that the two go through during the journey, all those days without sleep and without knowing how Ariel will wake up if he wakes up and how precisely out of the terrible pain and endless suffering, grows a fierce and uncompromising love for life.

It is a life story of a father and son in their joint war on death that will eventually reveal to each of us his love for his own life, allowing us to move from a state of grief, pain, and tears, to a state of joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tali Levy
• Release date: Jan 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393948773

Book preview

HANGING BY A THREAD by AVISHAI LEVI

Introspection

A PERSON’S LIFE IS a continuum. Every morning starts that day’s route, which extends into new directions that no person or living creature can control. The milestones, that are positioned at each segment or corner, contain life as it evolves, unaware and oblivious.

I have observed myself and my family from the outside, uninhibited. I could see clearly, and I tried to write down our tumultuous feelings during the dramas of our daily struggles to survive under she shadow of dialysis, and the shadow of the son who fought with utmost, unfathomable courage.

Are one’s powers boundless? Does the will to survive exceed science and the imagination? Is there a limit to suffering? All these questions will be asked repeatedly, but will never be answered.

I tried to be good to my aching heart with my pen, and to free my spirit, which has been burdened with harsh, bitter memories. With every line and every phrase, I found myself released from my fetters, and I was able to complete my story. My spirit was completely free, and my head was emptied of all suffering and agony.

I will be able to wander among people free as a bird, and I hope and believe that I will not have to go back and write a third book, because I shall cling to life, and I will infect my children and my family with it.

I recall the events that preceded my writing, when every day, I feared the next day to come; I dreaded whatever lurked around the corner, and what would hide within the milestones laid out so innocently, seemingly pure and harmless.

Now, that I’ve been freed from my tormenting prison, I know that my words are written for posterity. They will forever be a monument carved by fire. I now know that I shall go to bed peacefully each night, nights that had been sleepless and filled with bitterness and misery. I can now breathe easy.

Everything that my dearest son had been through is now inscribed on parchment. I put down for posterity the bitter truth, exactly as it happened; with sorrow and suffering, but also with a gratifying combination of joy and happiness, pleasure and love; because once we learned the trick... to know and to accept.

Life smiled with all its vigor, along with the most terrible misery, the tear of one little child. Everything blended in a harmony of mesmerizing, exciting liveliness, without a single boring day or boring moment; and each and every member of our family, who took upon themselves difficult, gripping tasks, they shall overcome!

The dozens of surgeries that ripped through the living flesh, leaving unsightly scars; the contents of the abdomen, hands and legs, all shredded in a jumble, that will never function again as they used to; all that combined with the dialysis, the dialyzers, the needles, the transplants; the thieving, deceiving bureaucracy, the eternal medical ego; the fight for growth, the battle over straight legs; the utter disregard for the person, the lack of empathy, the contempt; the needless surgeries due to doctors’ errors, that almost pushed the boy into an abyss from which there is no return; the insufficient number of nurses, by no fault of theirs – all of this was endured. We learned to accept it with laughter and tears. Up against us stood the bureaucratic system, that leads people in all the wrong directions, with no compassion and no integrity; that gives people the runaround and torments them over what they are fully entitled to receive. You will always know what you are required to give, because the establishment has arms of iron and steel. The establishment never gets tired; it will always hound, destroy and trample on you.

You, whatever you need to give, you will give, you will pay, just so that they leave you alone. But what you are supposed to receive, you will never know; and if you happen to find out what you are entitled to, you must start a world war. Then, when you are exhausted and drained, you receive your entitlement, but with a bitter taste in your mouth.

To conclude, we learned to accept everything lovingly. Life is one’s beauty and glory. The need to live exists in the entire animal kingdom, and even in plants; but knowing how to live – that is the problem. Maybe this story, as well as my first book, will give at least a glimpse at the beauty of life, the pleasure of accepting and living; living and being alive, happy and content, moving out of difficult, routine situations and immediately sensing the beauty and grace that are in everything within reach. Life will dictate the rhythm, and nothing can help anybody in this universe; these are things that neither you nor I have any control over.

That’s why we took our lives in our own hands, and made things better for ourselves. We learned to go from sorrow, pain and tears to a state of happiness, joy and recovery.

If I know that even one person has learned a lesson from my life and the life of my family, but mostly from the supreme heroism of my son Ariel, then I shall settle peacefully in my home, and continue to search for life in the state of healing, pleasure and joy, happiness and love, without which we would not exist for even one single day.

Thank you,

Levi Avishai and my son Avichai

Fall – November 1987

DID YOU HAPPEN TO SEE God along the way? asked ten-year-old Ariel. He set his brown-black eyes on the wind, and his lips mumbled words of supplication.

Ariel was sitting on the window sill of his second-floor room, leaning his stubborn chin on his hand. His slim, delicate face was exceptionally beautiful, though immersed in a sea of tears.

Start everything all over again?! This time, he uttered the words loudly and clearly, and dropped his hand from under his chin.

His slender body was laden with unfiltered edemas. For three months now, he had been fighting with all his might to save his transplanted kidney, and doing everything that his father and the healers suggested that he do.

The insulin pump was jammed under his armpit. The needle was affixed in its place, and the wire was attached to his buttocks, as the pump injected a novel substance, as well as protein, directly into his body.

I have no doubt, that the protein that Ariel is losing will be introduced immediately into his body. This way, we will strengthen the transplanted kidney, and it will function well. The doctor’s assertion and his faith were reassuring, and gave real hope.

Ariel’s natural body weight was about thirty kilograms, but now he must have weighed over fifty. His heavy leg could easily be heard when he tried to go down the stairs towards the living room.

Daddy, I can’t take it anymore, he whispered laboriously, and the wheezing of his breath penetrated Aviran’s arteries.

Okay, we’ll go back to basics, whispered Aviran, kneeling by his son and hugging him warmly. A rundown of the images and events of the last three months ran through his tired mind. His full, tangled hair had changed color to a grey-white, which stood out against his dark face. The force of his desire to cure his son was reflected in his tough jaw, and only his eyes revealed the secrets of his tumultuous heart.

God! He whispered silently.

I’ve spent all of my wealth, he continued speaking without making a sound, I’ve sold all my property. He stood up and dropped his arms helplessly, as he continued his inner conversation.

Three months have gone by since Ariel and Avivit returned from Paris, and I’ve been working every moment of every day to try and save the transplanted kidney. What did this child ever do wrong? He paused for a moment, staring blankly into the living room, and wiped a stuborn tear with the back of his hand.

Avivit, prepare him, we’re leaving, he spoke out this time.

I’m coming too, asserted the mother, and stood in a decisive pose, which highlighted her slim figure, having lost five kilograms in Paris. Her green eyes turned darker and lost their sparkle, and the wrinkles under her eyes cried out the intensity of her pain. Her hair was dyed a deep black that highlighted her pale skin, and her forehead revealed her colorless veins.

Me too, me too! Orly and Ohad came rushing in unison out of their rooms, their faces lit up like two adults.

Seventeen-year-old Orly had turned into a beautiful girl, slender and filled with charm and vitality. Her straight long black hair was pulled back with youthful perkiness. Fifteen-year-old Ohad was a charming, handsome boy, about one meter, seventy tall. He was at his peak, an athlete and an excellent soccer player. His facial features were both gentle and assertive, and his black eyes viewed the world with a maturity that arrived ahead of its time.

And who will watch over the house? reproached Avivit, letting them know very clearly where they stood.

The moon did not rise, and the stars put themselves out. Darkness reigned, and drove the wind towards the mountains.

The road to Jerusalem crossed valleys and gorges, with the cypress trees still saluting the boy, who was piercing the darkness and fighting to the last ounce of his strength.

Start everything all over again? his tormented soul mumbled once more. I’m sick and tired of injections, IVs and surgeries! he declared within his heart, that was seeking refuge. Oblivious, his eyes teared up, but then he wiped them with his handkerchief.

I can’t have them see me cry, he tried to encourage himself, and turned his eyes to the darkness crawling between the upright cypresses.

You will be okay, said the father, as if reading his son’s musings.

Sure... It’ll be okay. Sure, what’s the problem?! They’ll take out my kidney, another surgery, more shots, then another surgery... and another... It’ll be okay. He whispered these words agonizingly, and they rang inside the car as if they were coming out of a powerful loudspeaker.

Avivit’s quiet weeping was unstoppable, like a monotonous melody repeating endlessly. The driver’s throat was dry, and his eyes were blinded.

You have to be strong, he muttered towards his wife.

Sha’arey Tzedek, announced the driver as he pulled up to the emergency room entrance.

The emergency room doctors knew Ariel from his frequent visits, and they summoned the nephrologist immediately. Admission was quick and efficient.

Again, blurted the bearded doctor to his daily dialysis companion, until they draw out and clear all of his blood. Only after his body is lean and clean, will we extract the kidney that’s giving him all this trouble, he explained, and stared as if waiting for a response from Ariel.

And how will you hook me up for dialysis? asked Ariel suddenly in a shaky, apprehensive voice. Through the tube in my neck, or the fistula? he asked, feeling for the pulse on the operation he underwent in Paris. There’s no pulse, said Ariel, and looked defiantly at the doctor.

Regrettably, you’re right, said the good doctor.

So, what do we do? asked Avivit suddenly, realizing that there was a problem.

For now, we’ll hook him up through the neck, said the doctor, and gave instructions before leaving.

It’ll be okay. Desperation took over. Melancholy reigned, and autumn settled on the faces, the glances, the bodies.

A long, hopeless night ended. Dawn glistened on the golden Dome of the Rock, and birds sang in response to the calls of the muezzins at the mosques. Jerusalem, a city of gold with a heart of stone... The Western Wall dropped a note that read, When will Ariel be cured? Aviran smiled despondently.

I will drive over soon and insert a new note, he decided, and braced himself.

The connection through the neck was successful, and the dialysis hummed along.

Look how handsome you are, Avivit tried to cheer up her son, as she was straightening her wrinkled dress, that fit her fragile figure nicely.

The doctor’s calling you, said good little nurse Naomi as she came in.

I suggest that we remove Ariel’s original kidneys, said the doctor without any unnecessary introductions, as he stared blankly into a spot in the air behind them.

Why? they responded in unison.

The original kidneys had shrunk inside Ariel’s body, and they are causing high blood pressure, he continued in the same hesitant tone.

Absolutely no way! said Aviran, his head swimming.

Who knows, maybe some kind of miracle will happen, and they will suddenly reawaken, his brain spoke directly inside his head, while his lips remained pursed tightly.

Okay, but you should know that he has high blood pressure, the doctor gave up immediately. The original kidneys are causing many problems. Tomorrow we’ll remove the transplanted kidney, and maybe that will be good enough. The bearded doctor looked directly at them with his kind eyes, sympathizing with them, and immediately went out on his business.

Why do you oppose removing his kidneys? They are dead anyway, and are only causing problems, said Avivit, searching for the answer in Aviran’s face.

Miracles happen in this world, asserted Aviran. He stood up and went back to Ariel, who was hooked up to the machine.

The needles whispered a prayer. The little body shrank from one hour to the next. The blood flowed out of the saturated body into the artificial kidney, where it was filtered and cleansed. It then returned into the body of the boy who was looking at his parents, putting his hope for a new life in God and his parents, and awaiting the miracle that his father had promised would come someday.

Don’t worry; there is a God, Aviran was instilling this fact in his son’s mind and soul.

Then where is he? begged the boy.

You need patience and faith! Aviran squeezed Ariel’s fingers.

Just smile and laugh at everything that happens. It will all be over, and we’ll end up writing a book about you, the father continued encouraging his son.

Yes, I’ll be a movie star! muttered the boy with chilling sarcasm.

Stop that, Ariel, you’d be better off always believing that you will recover. Avivit, who had just returned from the office and heard their dialogue, tried to help.

Avivit, please go home, get a good night’s sleep, and come back tomorrow, Aviran tried to persuade his wife. We have two other children, who need their mother, he said, and looked assertively into her green eyes.

Okay, she said, and gave her son a tearful kiss. I’ll come over tomorrow morning. She stood up and left without looking back.

The setting sun’s rays entered through the shutters, spilling a mellow, sad, mysterious light into the room. Tomorrow will be another day.

It hurts, Daddy, it hurts, the boy whispered and cried.

Aviran, wrapped in his sterile robe, sat by his son in the recovery room, that was oh, so familiar. His soul was agitated and his heart was troubled.

It will go away, Ariel, it will be over! Give us a smile! He tried to raise his son’s spirits, but what he was seeing tore his heart to bits.

He’s in pain, Aviran told the nurse.

Yes, I know. I’ll ask for morphine, the nurse confirmed the father’s unspoken request.

It hurts, Daddy, mumbled the boy again.

Ariel, be strong; you’re no longer a baby. Be strong, it will pass; you’re used to this already! It’s nothing! The father tried to ease his son’s agony.

The morphine arrived, and the saving arms of sleep calmed the tortured soul.

Sleep, my son, sleep. Aviran’s eyes were misty; his tears had dried up.

The transplanted kidney was taken out and dumped, thought the father. He recalled the donor, the three-year-old boy who’d been killed in an accident. We’ll get back on the dialysis path; we’ll hang in there, he reassured himself.

Days passed, kissing warmth and love. The dialysis routine on the route through the saluting cypresses did not alleviate the pain. The connections, alternating between the shoulder and the neck, punctured the emaciated body. It was a harsh winter, and snow painted the mountains white, covering the city with a soft, delicate, pale blanket.

1987 ended, and so did hope!

1988

ARIEL, ARIEL! WHERE is the boy, Aviran wondered, as he hit the balls on the green table.

He’s in the room with Ohad, playing hide-and-seek, shouted Orly from inside the house.

Call them to come play billiards.

Okay, Okay, I heard you, she cried back, and went to look for them in the yard. She immediately found Ariel standing against the tree trunk, and she could hear his voice.

Tree, do you have time to play?

She stopped on her tracks, and tried to listen to the conversation.

Tree, I asked you if you have time to play, Ariel repeated his question. Before he got an answer, Ohad jumped out of the treetop, happy as a lark.

No, it doesn’t have free time like you do. It’s busy giving shade, he declared, and hugged his brother.

Dad’s calling you to join him for billiards, interrupted Orly, rolling with laughter.

Billiards? Ariel was eager, and his eyes lit up. His slim face and body were clear, with no fluid buildup or edemas. He smiled and thought, I haven’t played for so long... I’ll beat them. He continued his internal conversation confidently. Okay, I’ll start playing and studying again. I hope that after the next transplant, which will be soon, I’ll be done with the dialysis and the operations. So he said to himself, and stepped up heartened to the table.

Daddy, I’m taller than the table now, and don’t need a chair anymore, he smiled, and continued: you should take this seriously, because I’m going to beat you. He spoke seriously, chalking up his cue, and gave his father a warning look, so that he doesn’t let him win on purpose.

I’ll play for real; I’ll take it seriously, Aviran promised.

I’ll play the winner, said Ohad, so that they don’t forget about him.

The games went on with great fun between the pillars under the house, accompanied by the aromas of spring bloom. The sun started setting in the west, its last rays caressing the green table.

I started writing your book, Aviran told his son while they were playing.

Let me read it, replied Ariel, without taking his eyes off the ball.

Every time I finish a chapter, I’ll read it out to you, agreed Aviran.

Don’t read it out loud to me. Do you think I don’t know what I’ve been through? Ariel confronted his father, and added right away, I win! while the seven ball was still rolling towards the pocket.

Well done! Aviran hugged his son and stroked his head. I know that you remember everything, but I want you to help me. Maybe I forgot to write down something, or maybe you’ll want to add something, Aviran explained what he was looking for.

I trust you; you didn’t miss a thing. I remember you with your papers all the time. I am writhing in pain, and you’re writing, the boy kept pouncing.

I had to write; without that I would have lost my mind, Aviran tried to save his skin.

Yes, you were writing all the time while I was crying in pain; that’s how you passed your time, Ariel didn’t let up.

Come, Ohad, I’ll beat you now, Ariel invited his brother with a triumphant smile.

Writing

THE CHEST ACHED; THE shoulder was immobile; the pressure on the pen almost ripped the paper. The terrible nights had ended. It was that same evening, or night, he no longer remembered. He did not set foot outside the house, and for three days and three nights he wrote and wrote, smoked and drank, and the pages piled up. He wrote almost half a book. Ariel and Avivit were in Paris after the transplant operation, and the new kidney was infected by the virus.

The Evil Eye won! That’s how he felt, that’s what he sensed. All he had left to do was to write, to release; otherwise he’d explode.

You must wash and shave, eat, and go to work. You have Orly and Ohad here; they are your children; they see you and weep, his sister Adina tried to get him back on track.

Dad’s gone crazy, Orly had called Adina. Come over quickly, she asked over the phone, and her crying grew louder.

Get a grip. You can’t fall apart now, Aviran’s elder sister chided him.

Okay, I’m already past falling apart, he told himself, as he tried to find in the pile of papers where the beginning was and where the end. I just need to organize everything, and to finish writing the missing part, he encouraged himself.

I just have to avoid getting stressed out again, he promised himself, but the pressure on the page was fast and painful. Leave me alone now, he cried to Avivit when she called him to come eat.

I’m going to work. You warm up your food. Bye. She dropped the plate on the table, her face revealing her thoughts: He’s gone crazy again. When he starts writing, he fades away.

Her pretty face had deep wrinkles. The lines under her eyes multiplied like mushrooms after the rain. Her smooth, white forehead had grooves like lines on a cardiogram.

Oh, God! I look awful! The sight of her face frightened her. I’m not even forty yet, she beat herself up.

You must get a facial, Avivit, said Doctor Tzvi Ben-Moshe when she came to his clinic. All the suffering and the pain are showing on your face," he continued, as he read her entire body through the little flashlight shining into her green eyes.

You take everything to heart, in the harshest possible way. He spoke slowly and kindly, each word coming out as a soft whisper.

How could I not? said Avivit, tears welling up in her eyes before they start rolling down.

Cry, go ahead, it will relieve you. Your spirit is being eaten from within, and it shows on your face. He said this tenderly and caringly.

I’ve run out of tears, she mumbled.

I know what Ariel is going through and what he’s been through; and what you are all going through. I’ve been with you since Ariel lost his kidneys; but all of you, and especially you, Avivit, must be strong. Ariel must never see you in your anger and agony, he said as he packed up his test kit, including his eye flashlight.

It’s easy to say, she smiled bitterly, and immediately got back to work, answering the phone to book another appointment for treatment.

Yair Aloni

SIX HUNDRED PAGES WERE already committed to paper. The binder was stuffed to the point of bursting.

It’s all in there, he whispered to himself. I’ll call my good friend Yair Aloni, he thought, he writes plays and poems; he will surely tell me what to do.

Yair, how are you? Aviran asked his friend.

I’m fine, but what’s happening with you? he replied with a question, and sounded truly happy.

I wrote the book.

Did you finish writing everything?

Yes, everything.

Already?

Yes.

That was quick. I’m coming over to pick it up. I must read it. I’m curious. Yair was passionate, just as he was back then, when they were on the armored corps team. When they played soccer, Yair had amazing control of the ball. His dribbling and his speed made him an artful, tricky player.

You have a unique style, and the book is written very well. The story is simply incredible. Yair summed up what he read, and added, we must find a publisher that will leave you enough money; and we need to publish this as soon as possible.

I’m left with debts, nothing else, so maybe the book will help me straighten things out, answered Aviran with new hope.

You can get up to fifteen percent in royalties, Yair told him, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

Is that all?

That’s before income tax! Yair rained on Aviran’s parade.

Ariel’s Legs

GLIDING BETWEEN THE publishers exhausted both body and soul. They were willing to pay five percent, and the bottom-line calculation, after tax, left Aviran with about one Shekel from each book!

The response from the Income Tax Authority was final:

If we give you an exemption, we would have to do the same in many similar cases. Therefore, you must pay taxes in full, even though we do sympathize. They were really comforting... and they encouraged Aviran to keep searching for a publisher that would be willing to pay more.

You are not a renowned author. Famous authors are paid fifteen percent royalties.

Despair began taking over, but Aviran decided to continue. Between driving to various publishers, large and small, the battle for Ariel went on.

Look at Ariel’s legs, Aviran asked the senior doctor. Stand up straight and put your legs together, like standing at attention, Aviran ordered his son.

Yes, it’s well known; this is a common phenomenon among children on dialysis. It’s natural for him to have crooked legs, and he will be no taller than one meter, forty. Best case scenario will be close to one fifty. The doctor stroked his beard, and tried to show sincere empathy.

What? cried Aviran, and his face changed colors.

Nobody told me that Ariel would have crooked legs, he erupted, and then recalled Ariel’s friend at dialysis, Yankele, whose legs were so badly crooked that he could hardly walk; and Udi, who was in no better shape. That’s right, he thought, they are small, and they also have crooked legs!

My God, he sat down wearily on the chair in the doctor’s office, breathing heavily. This doesn’t have to be the case with Ariel, he decided, and blurted it out.

You must understand that your son is a dialysis patient, and his entire system, including growth and bones, does not function like a healthy person’s system, the doctor tried to mollify the father, and make him understand and accept the expected reality.

No! Aviran struck forcefully: My son will have two straight legs, and he will be at least one meter, sixty, he stated a new fact. I would like a letter that permits Ariel to play soccer at the Maccabee kids’ team, he softened his tone now.

There’s no way on earth, the doctor answered sternly, and added: Do you want to drive all of us crazy, and the boy, too? Do you want him to fracture a bone, and then the problem will be much worse? You keep putting Ariel at risk with your outlandish ideas! The doctor was incensed, and gave Aviran a furious look.

Okay, I’ll make do without your letter. I’ll enroll him at Maccabee without your authorization, Aviran answered. His head was already figuring out whom to talk to at Maccabee, who would take responsibility over Ariel. Then I want something else: a prescription for a synthetic growth hormone.

What? cried the doctor. And what would you do with that prescription? He was perplexed by the father and his ludicrous requests.

I will take the prescription to the growth department at Kaplan Hospital, and ask them to admit Ariel, and to give him that growth injection, said Aviran, no less forcefully than the doctor.

Ariel does have the growth hormone in his body. At Kaplan they treat children who do not have the growth hormone in their bodies at all, and they don’t grow, the doctor tried to explain to the frustrated father.

I will persuade them. You just give me the prescription, he asked again, and straightened his back resolutely. During all this time, Ariel was shrinking in his chair, his eyes begging his father to stop infuriating the doctor.

Alright, I’m giving you this prescription, but you should know that you are causing your child a terrible injustice, and you’re driving yourself crazy. The doctor sat down, his face flushed, and his hand was shaking while he wrote out the prescription.

Thank you, doctor; I really appreciate this. Aviran smiled at the doctor,