“It’s hard to say like,” I tried to put into words what I felt. “It’s such a difficult work, but one you can’t ignore. The suffering of the disabled is immense, and it comes through in the work in an extraordinary way. They look alive.”
“If you didn’t know me, would you hang this in your living room?” Lily looked me straight in the eye.
“I don’t think so,” I answered with the same directness.
“I love you,” she said.
“And I you,” I replied.
Chapter 55
Deterioration
During the exhibition in Rehovot, Lily shone. She felt she was repaying a debt to another group in society. If she could, she would have done even more to help them.
The reviews of the exhibition were mixed. Some thought it was groundbreaking – both conceptually and in presentation. But there were also those who said it was brazen of Lily to bring society’s sick into the museum halls, especially since it was located in a Memorial Museum. Lily took the criticism very hard and could not make do with the positive voices. She refused to take the exhibition’s guestbook home.
A few days after the exhibition ended, a tragedy occurred that had a profound impact on Lily. Since we had moved to Tel-Aviv, she had made a point of visiting her aunt Mira, her father’s sister, twice a week. They were extraordinarily close. They shared a mutual admiration and deep love. Despite the age difference, Lily related to her like an older sister.
One morning, while I was working at the base at Parkview Medical Center, the phone rang. It was Lily’s father.
“Mira, my sister, was killed in a car accident,” he said in the most laconic way possible.
“What do you mean?” I asked, stunned.
“Mira was killed!”
“When? How?”
“She went down to the grocery store this morning, and someone ran her over. I don’t know the details, but Mira is dead. And I’m asking you to be the one to tell Lily.”
“What? Me?”
“Yes – you tell her.”
Of course, I agreed. I was deeply sorry for the loss, and I could already imagine how her death would affect Lily. All that remained for me was to carry out the incredibly difficult task I had been entrusted with.
On my way to the College of Art and Design, I agonized over how I could break the terrible news without shattering her completely.
When I arrived, I had to wait until the break. When she saw me, she immediately sensed, probably from my expression, that something terrible had happened. I can’t hide my feelings from someone who knows me so well.
“What happened?” she asked. When I shook my head, she asked without flinching if it was her brother Saul, the pilot. When I shook my head no and said it wasn’t him, she immediately asked if it was Mira. The moment she said the name, tears filled my eyes. Lily understood. I didn’t have to say another word. She told me that that very morning, before going to the College of Art and Design, she had felt that something terrible had happened to a family member. And when she saw me, she wasn’t surprised at all. She understood, and it was nearly impossible to hold back her tears. Many hours passed before she calmed down.
Mira had been single, without a husband or children, and Lily had been like a daughter to her. Throughout theshiva, theseven-day mourning period, Lily didn’t return home. There was no reason and no way to separate her from her family.
“I don’t feel well,” Lily admitted to me a few days after the shiva.
“On my way to the College of Art and Design, I’ll stop at New-Hope Medical Center Hospital.” I didn’t say a word. I knew that if she “volunteered” to go to the hospital, she must really be unwell.
“I’ll update you as soon as I know,” she promised without measking. I wasn’t surprised when she called to say she was being admitted.
“I’m on my way!” I said immediately and left the base.
When we met in the ward, Lily told me that her markers had worsened: her hemoglobin had dropped and her urea had risen. At her bedside lay a stack of books she had brought from home, as if she already knew this hospitalization would be longer.
The conversation with the deputy director was anything but encouraging. Within a relatively short time, there had been a deterioration in kidney function, and one of her heart valves was no longer functioning properly. Another parameter had been added to her already complex medical situation.
“What’s her creatinine level?” I asked.
