Last Sunday, May 16^th, 2004, my son-in-law, Dr. Baruch Eisenberg, collapsed in his shul in Rochester, New York, and stopped breathing. A significant amount of time passed until the emergency medical people were able to restart his heart and get him on a respirator. He is 44 years old and has a wife and 7 children. His wife and 2 children as well as most of my other children and their families were together at the time at an upshearin (first haircutting at the age of three) of one of my other grandchildren in Teaneck, New Jersey.

We all raced back to Rochester to find that, while the doctors were doing everything humanly possible to save him, very little hope was offered. (As I drove to Rochester while his wife and two children together with my wife flew there, I spent most of the drive screaming "NO! NO!" interspersed with saying Tehillim.) Word spread very quickly and people began reciting Tehillim and davening on behalf of Mordechai Baruch Rephoel Halevi Ben Channa (the name Rephoel was added that afternoon in a packed Tehillim gathering in his Shul).

People in Rochester, Montreal, New York, and around the world poured out their hearts in prayer on his behalf. That night, he lay comatose "b'gai tzalmoves" (in the valley of the shadow of death). Members of his family stayed with him every minute reciting Tehillim and crying to Hashem. Somehow he made it through the night. Monday was extremely difficult, for while he began breathing a bit above the respirator, there was otherwise no response to any stimuli. Tuesday morning began the same, but in rapid succession brought with it some changes that were happening so quickly, it was (and still is!) difficult to believe.

At the first signs, we were very afraid that we were just imagining improvement because we so desperately hoped for it. He lifted his arm to the neurologist's nose tickle and he grimaced when his toe was squeezed, but despite that, there was no sign of any awareness. After a while he would open his eyes to a loud call of his name and seemed to be tracking movement a bit with glassy uncomprehending eyes. When I returned from a nap a few hours later, I was told, but couldn't believe, that he had lifted two fingers in response to a command! A short while later, he apparently attempted to write something!

These unbelievable changes continued through the day and night until Wednesday when he was breathing well enough for the respirator to be removed, he began talking, and was able to get out of his bed into a chair. By midday, he was walking out of the CCU into his new hospital room! (At that point some of the hospital staff asked for the names of the people who were praying for him so that they could ask them to pray for them should they ever need it.) He began carrying on normal conversations, though with a slight delay. By Thursday his natural tone, voice, and demeaner had returned as well as his humor and even his sarcasm! Boruch was back!

Here it is, but a week after we were told there was virtually no hope and he is going home, please G-d, tomorrow! Throughout this whole experience, the one overriding source of hope and inspiration for all of us was the unbelievable outpouring of prayer. I learned that there is nothing more powerful than prayer. I learned that prayer, especially when shared by many people, can bring miracles!

I don't know how to thank all of you enough. Just know that every one of you made a difference and that my family will never be able to thank you enough. And know, as well, that every one of us is very lucky to be able to pray!  May Hashem bless all of you.           Mordechai Glick