Keeping to the Path, by Avery Sax
From a Speech at Chabad of Moorpark, CA's Annual "Spa for the Soul", March, 2014
From a Speech at Chabad of Moorpark, CA's Annual "Spa for the Soul", March, 2014
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y name is <strong>Avery</strong> <strong>Sax</strong> and I just<br />
turned thirteen. And believe<br />
it or not, I have a large inoperable<br />
mass in my brain with<br />
over 100 active aneurysms.<br />
The doc<strong>to</strong>rs <strong>to</strong>ld me three years ago that I had a 50%<br />
chance of making it past <strong>the</strong> first year, and no chance of<br />
making it <strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> three-year point where I am <strong>to</strong>day. But<br />
I don’t think you came here <strong>to</strong> hear me talk about dying,<br />
so I’m not going <strong>to</strong> stand here <strong>to</strong>day and talk about my<br />
illness, or <strong>the</strong> irreversible damage it has done <strong>to</strong> my family,<br />
our finances* and our lifestyle. I just want <strong>to</strong> talk.<br />
I love <strong>to</strong> talk! And you actually volunteered <strong>to</strong> listen!<br />
Surviving Radiation<br />
When people feel sorry for me or wonder how I can still<br />
feel happy and positive, I’m sure people confuse my faith<br />
with being a little girl with rose-colored glasses, as if I<br />
don’t fully understand <strong>the</strong> reality of my situation. Well,<br />
<strong>the</strong>re are no rose-colored glasses when you’re fitted with<br />
a skin-tight mask and left alone in a room for 30 minutes<br />
with your head locked down in place with screws<br />
and drills for a series of 10 rounds of brain radiation.<br />
But my roots are strong, and that’s what gives me <strong>the</strong><br />
ability <strong>to</strong> smile and give my mom a thumbs up. I didn’t<br />
think twice about holding up <strong>the</strong> radiation department’s<br />
tight schedule so that I could say <strong>the</strong> Shema before <strong>the</strong>y<br />
started each session. And you know what? The radiation<br />
tech said I was <strong>the</strong> first person he ever saw praying. I<br />
wouldn’t be surprised if I was <strong>the</strong> first person who smiled<br />
and hugged <strong>the</strong> doc<strong>to</strong>rs and radiation staff every day<br />
of treatment, <strong>to</strong>o!<br />
It feels good <strong>to</strong> feel good. And it feels good <strong>to</strong> believe.<br />
I even held my book of “Letters of <strong>the</strong> Rebbe” on my<br />
chest every time I was wheeled in<strong>to</strong> <strong>the</strong> operating room.<br />
Yes, <strong>the</strong>re was fear, but always a lot of laughter <strong>to</strong>o.<br />
The best part about my treatment was that I doubled<br />
it every day so that I could not only start school<br />
on time, <strong>the</strong> first day of <strong>the</strong> year, but I could also be finished<br />
and come home in time for Shabbat. After <strong>the</strong> last<br />
round of radiation, five days in a row, I came home <strong>to</strong><br />
close friends and family, Shabbat flowers, fresh challah<br />
and lighting <strong>the</strong> candles (yes, Devorah Leah, I did<br />
light on time).<br />
And, even as my hair started falling out that night, I<br />
had that warm feeling inside... a reminder of my roots, that<br />
place that glows inside and makes it possible for me <strong>to</strong><br />
be who I am: A Jewish girl, here <strong>to</strong>day, defying <strong>the</strong> odds.<br />
JUNE 2014<br />
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