As we mark one year since the pandemic changed our lives, we asked you to introduce us to your COVID heroes

Right after Purim 5780, I became severely jaundiced. I was sent to the hospital, where doctors ran many tests to try to determine the cause. My blood count was dangerously low, and bilirubin levels sky-high. I was given blood transfusions, and high doses of steroids through IV. A CT scan was ordered to try to gain more insight into what was causing my body to destroy my red blood cells.

Late on Friday afternoon, the doctor on call came to update me. “We see something on your lung,” he said gravely. “It could be due to COVID or… Something Else.”

The pandemic had just arrived in the US, and the very thought of having contracted it was so scary. Equally scary was the Something Else. My COVID test results wouldn’t be ready until the following morning. I was about to go into Shabbos with a lot of nerve-racking unknowns hanging over me. There was no way I was going to tell my family this newest development until I knew for sure. Why should they worry the entire Shabbos? But it was so hard to bear all this on my own.

I thought about my family at home. I thought about my future, their future. I had never felt so scared, so alone. What would it mean for me, for them, to have to undergo this nisayon? I thought about my life insurance plan. I thought about Chedva Silberfarb. I felt so, so scared.

Just then, Dr. Leslie Bennett, a hematologist/ oncologist who had been managing my care in the hospital thus far, called me. He told me two things: “I want you to say ‘Ein Od Milvado.’ Say it every day when you wake up. Say it throughout the day.”

Then he said, “One who davens for someone else, they’ll be answered first. Here is the name of a very special choleh who needs a refuah: Rav Aryeh Zev ben Aidel. Daven for him, and with Hashem’s help you will see a refuah too.” (This was before the name Chaim was added to Rabbi Ginzberg’s name.)

This gave me a lifeline — two, actually. It was a strong, concrete reminder that I wasn’t alone. As I passed that long Friday night, and throughout the rest of my hospital stay and subsequent recuperation period at home, I kept holding onto “Ein Od Milvado.”

I also davened as hard as I could, through excruciating headaches, frequent blood draws, numbers going up and down, more procedures and treatments — for “my choleh.” My life depended on it.

My COVID hero, Dr. Bennett, provided far more than what a regular — even good — doctor would. In addition to the medical aspect, he lifted my spirits, gave me strength, and helped me see I was not alone.

—Galiah (Morgenstern) Lotwin, Queens, NY

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 854)