Five months ago, Nufar Gross was on the battlefield treating wounded soldiers. The 33-year-old IDF paramedic spent her summer providing medical treatment to both wounded soldiers and civilians during the Operation Protective Edge, which lasted 50 days.
And especially for all those who risk their lives at night to keep us safe, warm and comfortable, we should all say a special thanks and prayer for safety. Because being up all night is interesting, and sometimes profitable. But it's almost never preferable. And I speak from experience.
As I glanced up the stairs, the crowd of tweens suddenly parted and down rolled this jacket-clad snowball of a boy right at me. Luckily, I was standing in the middle of the stairs. By reflex, my body traveled back to high school and struck the pose of a third-baseman fielding a ground ball.
I was talking by the time they arrived, but because of my speech which has been directly affected by ALS, they thought I may have had a stroke because I was slurring my words. Nope, no stroke, just ALS.
I'd never felt like this before. After a few steps out of my bed, I found myself lying on the ground holding my chest trying to remedy the excruciating sharp pains. I couldn't move, breathe, talk. It hurt too much. Everything hurt.
"Medicine is the bridge to working together. We're all people and there's absolutely no difference between us," added Bruria Adini, the director of the BGU program. "We need a joint and collaborative response that can save lives."