Flashback to Hospital 'Lockdown' Helps Relieve Sadness

It was the second pandemic Rosh Hashanah, and if I said I was a little sad, that would be an understatement. If you are Jewish or know anything about Judaism, you know that the start of the 10-day High Holiday period is one of the most important days of the year.

Another year with no sharp edges

In our home, on erev Rosh Hashanah (the “eve of”) my mother made a holiday dinner to which she invited any “stray” people who didn’t have a place to go. My father cut the round challah and said, “Here’s to a year with no sharp edges, just like this challah.” We dipped the bread in honey for extra sweetness and enjoyed a serving of honeydew melon. To go with the chicken or brisket, we had tzimmes, another traditional food made with sweet potatoes, prunes, carrots, pineapple, or whatever the cook chooses.

As Chabad.org explains, “Carrots and honey are standard, but beyond that, you might find sweet potato, apricots, raisins, cinnamon, orange juice, brown sugar, nutmeg, prunes, maple syrup, stew meat, apples, and even broth.” I never heard of anyone putting in stew meat or broth: the idea is for it to be sweet. But the description shows you that it can be an interesting concoction.

No place to go

On the second pandemic “erev,” I had no place to go. The first one was understandable because of the lockdown. I did a google hangout with my kids and felt OK about it. But with things opening up, I felt like I should have a place to go the second year. Yet with the entrance of the Delta variant of COVID-19, they were only kind of sort of opened up.

A friend was having people over, and I know her well enough to invite myself. But I didn’t think it through and wasn’t sure what she meant at first. She said, “You went to the US Open, right?” She was referring to the US Open Tennis Championships, and yes, I had gone. Everything was outside, and fans had to show proof of vaccination or a negative COVID test, and I had felt fine about it.

But my friend had immune-compromised guests coming, and she wanted me to get a COVID test. I didn’t have time to do it and get the results before dinner. (I didn’t want to do a home test due to their supposed unreliability.) She felt bad. I felt sad. I said don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.

A flashback from 18 years ago

I went to Whole Foods supermarket and bought some tzimmes and a piece of salmon and challah. I got a vegetable and had it in front of the TV. Frankly, I can’t remember what I watched. But all of a sudden, I felt OK about it. That’s because I had a flashback to another time I had tzimmes under much worse circumstances. It was 18 years ago. I was locked down at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, in Boston, around the time of my first stem cell transplant. I can’t remember if it was before or after my transplant.

I do remember it was Rosh Hashanah, and my sister brought me tzimmes. I remember that it was delicious and sweet. I remember appreciating it yet being sad that those in the outside world were having their holiday dinners and I was sick and in the hospital.

The memory helped me put the second pandemic Rosh Hashanah in perspective. I was well. I could go out and about. I could even drive with a friend three hours to the US Open, spend a beautiful day, and drive back. The day of Rosh Hashanah, I would be taking a round challah, tzimmes, and honeydew melon to my son’s house. I would have a meal with my son, daughter-in-law, and my two grandkids. We would say a little something about our wishes for a sweet new year. We would say “Shanah tovah,” which means “Good year.”

These are things I could only have dreamed of doing back in 2003.

What are some things that help you gain or maintain perspective?