Min Ha'Shamayim

Those times when you look up to the sky and feel that Gd is looking back at you saying, "I've got your back!"

This was one of those times!

I had been excited to hear a guest speaker at our synagogue in early March this year - someone I deeply respect and admire, and whose advocacy I have followed closely on social media since October 7, 2023.

She has been a constant and vocal advocate for Israel’s right to self-defense; was on the frontlines in demanding the release of the hostages until every last one - dead and alive - were returned; and has been unapologetic about naming and shaming the Jew-haters who wiggled their way out of the woodwork on October 8, 2023.

She is articulate, insightful, and unafraid to speak her mind with both conviction and grace. Her name is Fleur Hassan-Nahoum, and if you’d like to follow her on Instagram, click here, or here for Facebook.

Unfortunately, when war broke out between Iran and the United States and Israel in late February 2026, Iranian missiles rained down on Israeli cities and towns, making it impossible for Fleur to leave Israel and travel to the United States. Her scheduled appearance at our synagogue was canceled.

I was disappointed, to say the least, but hey there was a war!

Fast forward two months, and I see Fleur’s name pop up again as a guest speaker at the synagogue for May 30.

YES!!

I added the event to my calendar and hounded my friends: “You’re coming, right?” I asked in the weeks leading up to Shabbat, May 30. “You know who she is, right? Do you follow her on social media? Have you heard her speak?”

Side note: Just over a month ago, my cardiologist called to inform me that I had Atrial Fibrillation. I was told to start medication immediately as I was at risk for a stroke.

This past Wednesday night, just three days before the scheduled program with Fleur Hassan-Nahoum, I sat comfortably on my couch doing my daily Squaredle. Out of the blue, I noticed a stronger than normal heart beat. Using the EKG app on my iWatch I observed my resting heart rate: 98, 110, 82, 123, 96, 99, 104.

Anything above 100 is considered dangerous.

I waited a few minutes and checked again, watching the numbers rise and fall: 116, 98, 124, 110, 133, 129. By this time, I could feel my heart pounding outside my chest. Maybe it’ll go down.

I waited a few minutes and checked again: 132, 120, 142, 134, 127, 149, then, big red letters flashed across the small screen of my watch: Contact Emergency Services. SH*T.

I was in AFib.

I grabbed a bag, threw in my phone charger, and my meds (because I know they’ll ask and I won’t know the dosage) and took myself to the ER.

Atrial Fibrillation. Uncontrollable, erratic, rapid heart rate. I didn’t even make it to the waiting room. I was taken in right away. They put me on a bed and hooked me up to a heart monitor. Despite all the chaos around me, I felt calm.

Wristband, IV, meds, electrodes, EKG, blood pressure - check, check, check, check, check, check. I laid back and looked up at the monitor as the numbers continued to trampoline up and down above 100.

My eyes moved from the monitor to the area where patients continued to arrive. A woman with a bad back; a man with what I overheard was a torn meniscus was yelling bloody murder using profanity. Nurses were busy moving about from patient to patient. I was given some water and some crackers.

“Ms. Daniels, we’re going to have to keep you overnight so we can monitor your heartrate,” the attending nurse said. “We’ll most likely need to do an Ablation tomorrow.”

They wheeled me into a room on the Cardiology floor where I was transferred to a hospital bed and reconnected to a heart monitor. I was told I wasn’t allowed to eat anything because most likely I’d be scheduled for the ablation the next day. “Not even coffee in the morning?” I asked. “Not even coffee!”

Falling asleep on an empty stomach, I was awoken throughout the short night by loud beeps from monitors, the hums of different machines, and the chatter from the nurse’s station just outside my room.

At 5:00 am on Thursday morning they came to do an EKG and blood pressure check. It was going to be a long day - especially since it had turned into a fast day. They did an ultrasound and CT scan (felt miserably sick from the contrast dye which I later found out I was allergic to), and after recovering from the nausea and head fog caused by the contrast dye, was returned to my hospital bed. It was 3:30 pm and they brought me my first meal!

Later that evening one of the attending physicians came by.

“Ms. Daniels, the CT scan showed there may be a clot in your heart, but the image wasn’t clear enough so we’re going to have do to a TEE tomorrow while continuing to monitor your heartrate. We want to rule out any clots before we do the Ablation.” That is what they said. This is what my mind processed: #%@&$( (Y#^$ >#)#@ +_)%*# - it’s not supposed to end this way! I’m too young!!

In between visits from friends and colleagues there must have been at least a dozen different nurses, PAs, doctors, and -ologists who came to introduce themselves and explain the medical procedures and to check on my comfort.

Somewhere along the way (was it Thursday or was it Friday? I don’t remember), I was told I probably won’t be discharged from the hospital until Saturday. I knew what that meant…

I made peace with the fact that I wasn’t going to get out in time to hear Fleur speaking in person. Maybe third time lucky in another place at another time. My focus had to be on treatment, recovery, and healing. I still felt disappointed.

After my TEE (general anesthesia) and several hours later, the Ablation (general anesthesia) on Friday, I was kept another night for observation and finally discharged at around 1:00 pm the next day. The talk at the synagogue would have been over, but I was weak and not really lucid enough to absorb too much information anyway - even if I was able to have been released a couple of hours earlier.

With the help of friends, we packed up my things and headed home with instructions to rest and recuperate for several days.

By around noon on Monday, I was ready to see sunshine and to get the circulation going. I took a walk around the block and decided to stop by the kosher cafe near my apartment for a sandwich. As I entered the cafe, my focus was drawn to a table with three women sitting together.

“Fleur!” I yelled. “OMG, I don’t believe it!”

All three women looked up.

“I’m so sorry for the interruption….you don’t know me but I was supposed to come to hear you speak at the synagogue the other day but I ended up in the hospital and couldn’t get out in time….I’m Michelle…I’m the one who sent you messages on Instagram and you responded and….” (Someone please give me some oxygen!).

Fleur stood up from her seat and came towards me with open arms. We hugged like long lost friends.

“Firstly, and most importantly, how are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m okay. I can’t believe this,” I responded in utter disbelief. “How was the talk? I’m so sorry I missed it.”

What I failed to mention to you, my dear readers, is that I had messaged Fleur through the messaging app on Instagram back in early March expressing my disappointment at her canceled visit, and she had responded. Then, when her visit was rescheduled, I messaged her again to express my excitement about getting another opportunity to hear her speak in person, and she responded again. Whilst in the hospital, I messaged her again to let her know that alas, it wasn’t meant to be and sent a picture of my status…

The “ET phone home” pic I sent Fleur from the ER

.

“The talk was fine. It all went well. I’m happy you’re okay,” she said. (Well something along those lines. I don’t really remember). And then I asked if she minded if we took a photo. One of the women at the table offered to take the photo. I thanked her profusely for her work, her voice, and her outspoken advocacy.

With Fleur Hassan-Nahoum at the cafe

“I really don’t want to keep you,” I said, feeling bad at having interrupted their discussion. “But thank you again for all that you do, and I wish you all the best.”

We said our goodbyes. Fleur returned to her table and I went to the counter to order my sandwich.

I took my sandwich, sat at another table and looked up at the sky (well, the ceiling). And I know Gd was looking down saying, “I’ve got your back!”