In 2007, as Reb Yisrael Dovid Bringer, from Bnei Brak, was being discharged from the hospital, his doctor turned to Reb Yisrael Dovid’s son and proudly declared, “Nitzachnu!” In so many words, the doctor was saying that, due to advancements in the medical field, they were able to pull him through to this point. “Don’t you remember where your father was holding just several days ago?” the doctor asked with sense of ego. “Look where he is now. Nitzachnu!”
Five days earlier, Reb Yisrael Dovid had been admitted to the hospital, not feeling well. At first, nothing seemed too concerning, but after running a panel of tests, the doctors realized that there was something concerning. Very concerning.
The doctor called Reb Yisrael Dovid’s wife and son in for a meeting. He invited them into the conference room over his private office so that his training students can observe how to disclose such news. The doctor couldn’t just break the news as-is; he had to sit them down and break it slowly. “There’s an art to it,” he told his students. “You have to learn the trade.”
After some buildup, the family got the point the doctor was relaying. The update was a shock to them. Besides, it was so sudden; their father was conscious and awake, and so hearing about critical heart failure was astonishing. His good old Zaidy personality was still as normal as always as though nothing was happening. So, to hear he was approaching his last moments of life was astounding, to say the least.
When Reb Yisrael Dovid’s family finally caught on to the severity, they began questioning the doctor what percentage their father had to survive, but the doctor refused to give them an answer. Instead, he just commented: “This is not a matter of percentage; this is a matter of life and death. Accept it. And face reality.”
But Reb Yisrael Dovid’s son wouldn’t just accept it. He would seek the best care for his father. He called his siblings, told them the situation, and in the same breath reassured them about the Power greater than the doctors — the Borei Refuos, Hashem, Who oversees the care of the sick. He instructed them together to be mispallel for the complete recovery and not to succumb to the news that they were told.
As Reb Yisrael Dovid’s final hours came and went, Zaidy seemed to be outliving the doctor’s grim forecast. His son called his siblings and told them not to put down their Sifrei Tehillim just yet. “We have already experienced an open miracle, but keep doing what you are doing.” Three days went by, and Reb Yisrael Dovid was discharged from the Cardiac ICU and transferred to the regular hospital for maintenance care.
For two more days he was kept for maintenance, but after that, the doctor told them that he can return home. The danger had passed. Reb Yisrael Dovid and his family were flabbergasted over the techias ha’meisim that played itself out right before their eyes.
When Reb Yisrael Dovid’s son heard the doctor declare, “Nitzachnu!” he turned to the doctor and asked: “Kevod ha’rofeh, with the diagnosis of my father, what percentage of survival did he have?”
“I’ll tell you the truth. We have thousands who are admitted with this diagnosis, and only a handful to a dozen walk back out. Nothing more than just one percent. Nothing more.”
“Can I share a story with you?” asked Reb Yisrael Dovid’s son.
“Sure. Come on in and have a seat.” The overseeing doctor and the patient’s son sat themselves down in the doctor’s office for a little schmooze.
Here’s the story Reb Yisrael Dovid’s son told the doctor:
