Lodz, 12 July 1931

To my dear and devoted brother, as well as nephew, and niece,

Finally, finally, your Uncle Wolf has reminded himself to reply
to your long letter of May 21, i.e., during Shevuos time.  And
you, my devoted one, think to yourself there, "What's happened? 
What's the reason?  G-d knows whether something else has
occurred because it's surely not comprehensible.  I sent $10.  I
sent $5.  I wrote a long letter.  And to all of this, we do not
see or hear a response."  

So, my devoted brother, I write you "not to judge another until
you have been in his place."  Do not find fault with me or
condemn me because, as far as you are familiar with your uncle,
he is not that kind of person.  And to whomever else I might
have procrastinated to write, to you, my brother, I always write
with pleasure and often.  But, but...I would not wish that my
worst enemy should endure what I have endured with my wife for
the last two months...  My pen will not be at all capable of
picturing for you on paper everything that I have lived through
recently.  I will only recount in brief format and give you a
summary (to indicate) how strong a person can be in a time of
trouble. 

Two months ago, I returned home from work; I am working three
days a week.  No one was at home other than my wife since
Rifkele is in Opoczno; she is not feeling well.  My darling
Joseph happened to be in school.  I finished dinner and went to
sleep, exhausted from the day's work.  It was very warm;
nevertheless, I quickly fell asleep so that I didn't hear
(anything) when my wife and child went to sleep.  

About midnight to 1:00 a.m., I heard my wife coughing loudly and
moaning.  I asked her why she was moaning.  She answered that
she felt pressure around her heart.  I tried to give her some
tea and other such things, but the cough and the moaning became
louder.  I got out of bed, dressed, turned on the electric
light, and everything turned black before my eyes.  Aunt Malke
was lying in bed completely changed.  The blanket was covered
with blood, the spittoon was bloody, and she was no longer able
to cough up any more.  Her complexion was almost black.  I left
her ill and all alone and ran downstairs where there is (a
device) to call for a doctor.  

However, an hour passed between my going downstairs and the
doctor's arrival.  It was already 2:00 a.m. when the First Aid
came into my home with a doctor.  However, entering the room and
seeing that my wife was lying there at death's door, enfeebled,
glassy-eyed, no longer able to recognize me, I fainted.  So the
doctor was left with two people to save, my wife and me.  There
was a great deal of shouting; the neighbors in the house rushed
in.  The miracle was that the doctor happened to be energetic. 
He revived me immediately and opened my wife's vein and gave her
three powerful injections.  Some people lead me all the way out
of my apartment, and they didn't let me enter to see what being
done to save my wife.  

The doctor didn't leave.  He stayed at her bedside until 4:00
a.m. when she had regained her pulse and opened her eyes.  Then
he insisted on taking her to the hospital.  The doctor was very
impatient with me because I had waited so long and lead my wife
into a hopeless situation.  As the doctor left, he told me that,
if I didn't take my wife to the hospital immediately, he could
not assure me that she would survive.

You can imagine, devoted brother, how I felt at that time... 
Nevertheless, I asked my wife if she was willing to go to the
hospital, but she was barely able to shake her head, "No."  Now
it was 6:00 a.m.  I caught a carriage ride and hurried for
another doctor whom we knew; he had already tended to her care
in a similar situation.  At 8:00 a.m. the second doctor arrived,
and I told him everything that had taken place with my wife
during the night.  He immediately ordered that eight suction
cups with alcohol and thirty dry suction cups be prepared and
that she receive three camphor injections a day.  I didn't go to
work.  Everything was tended to.  We did everything.  The table
was covered with medicines, and the doctor instructed that we
let him know by evening how the patient was doing.  

There was no change in the situation by evening, but things were
worse again during the night so that I was again required to
call for the First Aid.  Another doctor came, again made
injections and told us to call a doctor in the morning.  The
doctor came again in the morning and saw what the situation was.
 Well, the hemorrhaging had almost stopped; the same for the
nausea and coughing.  However, there still remained the task of
standing and watching by her bedside to monitor (the situation
with) her heart because, after our daughter, Balcia, died my
wife developed a weak heart from sobbing and mourning for our
daughter.  And no matter how much the doctor warned her not to
strain herself lest she get an attack and a simultaneous
hemorrhage, it didn't help.  She was constantly crying, and the
result was that our daughter did not come back to life and my
wife caused herself a lot of harm...  She had this sort of
attack two years ago when I was in Opoczno, and this was the
second time, much more serious than the first time.

To be brief, devoted brother, my wife was in bed for six weeks. 
I didn't go to work at all for three weeks.  Two weeks ago, she
got out of bed for the first time.  The arm in which the vein
was opened hasn't healed yet, and she still feels very weak. 
Now I have been forced to send her completely away from Lodz for
several weeks in order for her to recover a bit, although
sending her away was not easy for me.  However, in this
situation, you, my devoted brother, were once again my savior
because I recently received the $10 that you sent by mail for
Passover.  Then, two days later, I also received $5.  This gave
me the ability to send my wife away for several weeks to a
cousin of hers in Kinsk, Itche Shaynfarber; you went to Todros's
cheder with Shaynfarber's son, Moshke.  Meanwhile, she has only
been there for eight days, and I received a letter yesterday
saying that she feels weak.  However, there's a new problem. 
What is it?  Rifkele became ill in Opoczno and came to her in
Kinsk; she has to take treatments and requires special
attention.  (Malke wants) me to send money weekly.

And here I am wading through a sea of debt.  I can practically
bathe in debt and can't help myself.  I would take it all in
good grace, suffer for several weeks, live like a gypsy, skip
the main meal of the day, all in order to gradually repay (what
I owe).  The problem is that I see that the Master of Universe
doesn't forget about me for a moment and before I am able to
stumble out of one problem, a new problem arises...  Perhaps I
would not be so concerned about my Rifkele because, after all, a
child becomes ill.  However, however, I am a "beaten" and
"seared" father.  Therefore, every minor matter is of great
concern to me!  

Now, Sol, you will understand why your uncle made you wait seven
weeks for an answer.  It's quite simple.  I didn't want to
sadden you until the danger had passed.

(The end of this letter is missing.) 


All material Copyright 1995 by Marshall L. Zissman and Sol J. Zissman.