More Advice from ER Docs

A recent article in the New York Times cited "Six More Things E.R. Doctors Wish You'd Avoid." Among these was "never mow the lawn in open-toed shoes", which make me cringe just to think about it.

I thought it would be an important public service if I proposed four additional activities that should be avoided. While these were rejected by the Times editorial staff and led to a visit to my home by the Sandy Springs Police, I share them, nevertheless.

1. Going to Synagogue

Going to shul on Shabbat or other holidays is safer now that all our synagogues have automatic gates requiring that you enter a code generated each day using a formula based on gematria, and numerous armed guards brandishing weapons. Here in the south, there is also a growing movement to have congregants "carry" . Knowing that the advanced age of the majority of members of my synagogue requires thick glasses and hearing aids, I am dubious that this practice will in any way make us any safer. I believe that the only reasons congregants should carry weapons in shul are: (1) if they really want a specific Aliyah, for instance, the ones describing the sacrifice of Isaac or rape of Dina or (2) if there is a risk that there will be no more egg salad at the kiddush when they reach their place in line.

I digress. The true danger of being in synagogue is being called for Hagbah—the lifting of the Torah after the reading has been concluded. Emergency room physicians report a growing number of cases of male Jews with severe hernias or dislocated shoulders after attempting to jerk and lift a Torah scroll with 10 columns of sacred text unrolled. While this demonstration of masculine Judaism was notable in USY youth groups, it is, perhaps, a greater health risk later in life—as would be the required post-Torah-dropping 40-day fast.

2. Legos

As a young father, I was surprised to learn how far a child could push a Lego up his or her nose. The doctor always found this humorous, and the receptionist smiled warmly as she told me that removing deeply embedded Legos from a child’s nasal passages was not covered by United Healthcare.

As a grandfather, I am, once again, discovering just how dangerous Legos can be. This past summer, in the hours after our grandchildren and their parents departed our home after their weeklong stay, I ventured into the basement playroom to establish some sense of order among the apocalyptic remains. It was my failure to wear steel-toed boots that led me to the emergency room with a Lego firmly embedded in my foot. Six hours later, I returned home with the bloodied Lego enclosed in a plastic bag. If there was one bright side, it was that, unlike every private medical insurance plan in America, Medicare covers everything—including Lego removal. There are some benefits to growing old.

3. Going to Home Depot

I happen to love my last name "Raphael," which means "God will heal ." I don't mind that it is repeatedly misspelled by strangers (e.g., Rayfield, Rafel, etc.), and I will calmly respond that it is spelled like the Renaissance painter—or, depending on who I am talking to, "the Ninja Turtle."

I also find it humorous and charming that perhaps half of the commercials on my TV are now in Spanish. My assumption is that this has more to do with the micro-targeting of ads and the assumption that I am Latin American, than with a growing sense of inclusion in our country.

This was all well and good until I was swept up in an ICE raid while attempting to purchase annuals for our backyard garden and duct tape to repair my garden hose. After being thrown to the ground (and regretting that I did not have a Subway tuna sandwich available), I breathlessly explained to the masked agents that I am a third-generation American whose grandparents emigrated from Hungary. Given the screaming in the background and the loud buzzing of tasers, they assumed I had said "Haiti," over-tightened a plastic tie around my wrists, and shoved me into a windowless van they had just rented from….. Home Depot.

I was released from a darkened cell five days later when my wife, rabbi, president of my shul, and a very elderly mohel came to vouch for my Jewish identity. Most Americans who get caught up in these illegal incarcerations are not as lucky.

This is a blot on our nation. I wonder how our country would fare if my grandfather, who actually came from Romania, had been denied entry or sent home. Once settled on the Lower East Side, he popularized garlic powder and founded J. Raphael and Sons, importers and grinders of spices—a company that provided spices for most of the pastrami and corned beef makers in New York, every pickle stand on the Lower East Side, and many of the bagel and bialy bakers in the city. Our nation would be less rich and far less tasty had our country been disinclined to "send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me” and "lift its lamp beside the golden door" at that time. His is just one of hundreds of thousands of immigrant stories that have made our country great.