Chaverim-

The other morning I was waiting with a  patient for an elevator to transport us down to the hospital's entrance when I heard what sounded like several different records being played at one time.  I peeked around the corner to see eight different conversations being conducted between patients, nurses, aides, docs, family and staff all gathered around the maybe 25 ft. long unit desk outside occupational therapy where I work.  The conversations were in Hebrew, Russian , Arabic, Spanish, the Ethopian language (its name escapes at the moment), German, Dutch (we now have 2 volunteers from Holland) and Yiddish.

I must have presented quite a picture as I stood frozen by what I was seeing/hearing. I suddenly felt a firm hand on my right shoulder and turned to see David, a man who arrived almost exactly 43 yrs ago from India as a 10 yr old but still spoke that wonderfully accented Indian English.  He's being treated for degenerative arthritis so every step is a painful one. He had walked from his seat to comfort me: "Israel's quite the language laboratory, isn't it, my friend?" he said with a broad, warm smile. "Shall we both speak our English just to add some spice to the stew?"

Anytime I wonder if this is worth all the frustration I sometimes feel here, I am going to try to think of David.