When I went into labor with my oldest child, I was sent to the hospital. They did an examination and told me to go home and come back later. I was a bit surprised. “When should I come back?” I asked them.
“When you can’t tell any more jokes,” the doctor said with a smile. I’d been talking, smiling and joking around in between the rather weak contractions. At the time, to be fair, I didn’t know the contractions were weak…a few hours later, I had learned quickly.
I went back four hours later and, as the doctor had predicted, I couldn’t tell jokes. I remember thinking them and then realizing they would take too much energy and so they went unsaid. I didn’t lose my sense of humor; it was just too much to verbalize.
Earlier today, I did lose my sense of humor. Reports were coming in from different parts of the country. It felt like it was every few minutes. I was trying to work and my phone kept beeping. Jerusalem. Tel Aviv. Kiryat Arba. Jerusalem. Stabbings – six people wounded in total, at least two seriously. The terrorists were caught in almost all cases (one got away).
I’m not sure which attack broke me more…the one at the train station that I go to almost daily? The one right in front of the mall that I was in yesterday? The one in the city where my parents live? The one in the city where my younger attends high school?
I thought about all the places where there had been attacks and as this startling pattern began to emerge…so too did my sense of humor. As I smiled a bit, I realized that I was not to be defeated. I posted this to Facebook:
So, I figured this out…I think this whole terror wave is my fault. Yesterday, they hit Petach Tivkah, where my parents live. Last night, close to Maale Adumim…a short while ago, they caught an Arab a few blocks from where I am…then there was an attack near the Azrieli Mall, where I was yesterday…and a few minutes ago, an attack in Kiryat Arba where my daughter goes to school…
Are you sensing a pattern? I think this is all my fault.
One person asked, “eh, where are you going tonight?” (thanks, Yarden).
To which I responded, “I thought you invited me to dinner, no?”
So far, my sense of humor, sick though it might be, has managed to stick around. I had to go out of the office for a bit, and so posted, “Dear Palestinians – I need to go to the shuk and the bathroom. Could you please chill out for the next hour or so?”
It seems that I’m not the only one with a sense of humor today. A Palestinian went into the center of Tel Aviv and began stabbing people. Four people were injured, including a young woman. A brave soldier in the Air Force saw what was happening, stepped out and killed the terrorist, preventing him from hurting others.
Who says terrorists don’t have a sense of humor?
Though, someone probably should have told him that “Time Heals All Wounds” isn’t always guaranteed. I’m thinking a bullet to the center of his forehead is kind of fatal.