Against All Odds

My mother, Ida Jacobovici (of blessed memory), passed away on August 17th at the age of 97. She was too young to die.

I am grateful to be able to say that my mother lived a full life to her last breath. But that was the only way she knew how to live.

At many points in her life, she faced situations in which the odds were against her.

To briefly highlight a few, she survived the Holocaust, an anaphylactic shock to Penicillin, and a couple of car accidents. When she would go for pain treatment for her back, if the medical professionals looked only at her x-rays (of her spine) and age (late 60's at that time), they would say, “There is nothing to be done. Odds are she will end up in a wheel chair.” 

Three months before her 90th birthday, my mother climbed up Masada’s “snake path” for the second time in two years, inspiring every one along the way; up and down.

Photo credit for Masada: Picssr

At the age of 94, not long after falling and needing surgery for a fractured hip, my mother participated in our town’s day of a 10k and 3k run or walk. She walked the 3k. Every step along the way, people would call out to her and encourage her on. One woman asked to take a picture with her. She repeated this the following year and then, the third year, was disappointed that she could only do 1k.

I’ll never forget, when I took her to a follow-up appointment to her gastroenterologist expecting to get some idea of how to help her cope with her challenges, how he said, “She’s turning 80, odds are things will start going downhill.” My mom and I celebrated New Year’s Eve meal, 2015, at a restaurant with a bottle of champagne. The owner and servers were so inspired by her energy that they asked to take pictures of them toasting the new year with her.

My mother was a constant source of inspiration to me, a woman who was full of life, who possessed strong beliefs and was a loving human being; woman, daughter, sister, aunt, wife, mother, mother-in-law and grandmother.

My mother was my first and best teacher. When life circumstances influenced her choice of career, she adapted. She had always wanted to be a doctor but when that was not an option, she became a biochemist in a hospital setting. When, against all odds, my mother became the head of her biochemistry lab in a major hospital in Montreal, Canada, she became my first business coach. She modeled for me that once we are committed to a job, we take that commitment on responsibly and passionately.

She treated the requisitions of patients she received not as pieces of paper but as individual human beings. She sought to provide the doctors with the most accurate information from which they could form the best diagnosis and treatment. She would take pictures of unique crystals she saw in the microscope. She trained college students and medical staff. She loved what she did and she strove to be the best at what she did.

My father (of blessed memory) was a natural storyteller. He was able to capture people’s attention and move them into the stories he weaved. My mother didn’t come to storytelling naturally. She would reminisce out loud; she would remember something important or meaningful in her life and recount it. Both storytellers, however, were “telling” the same story; the story of survival; how individuals through oppressive and dangerous times, did what they needed to do to overcome and continue to exist.

Photo taken March, 2017.

My mother passed on a legacy to me to not only do everything possible to live, but most importantly, how to live.  To honor her, I will continue to live my life to its fullest. 

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