WHEN YOUR FINGER HURTS, YOUR FINGER HURTS

In my blog post at sharonmarkcohen.com, Why Worry, dated December 13, 2022, I mentioned my friend Ruth Levinson (1921-2005). More on Ruth shortly. When I inadvertently cut my toenail too close to the skin, the pain from the tear in the flesh made it difficult to wear any footwear, no less walk. That had me thinking about my friend Ruth’s wise, often-repeated truth, “When your finger hurts, your finger hurts.”

Ruth and I worked together for most of the 1980s as claims adjudicators at the Division of Disability Determinations. In that State of New Jersey administered federal program, together with a staff doctor, we determined if applicants were entitled to Social Security disability benefits. When you think of it, reading about people’s illnesses day after day can be daunting. Just as when your finger hurts it hits close to home when the report is about your dear one.

In her 80s, Ruth was long retired when she died a haunting death. She had meandered to the gas station on a swelteringly hot New Jersey summer evening to fill her car’s tank. The police found her lying on the scorching hot black tar pavement on the lot.

The last time I saw Ruth was on a visit to her once immaculate apartment in a nearby town. By then, she was a widow living on her own and trying to remember the function of her keys. It was disconcerting to find my bright, accomplished friend in such disarray.

More than thirty years my senior, Ruth had lots of life experience to share, and she commanded a room. She tracked many firsts to her name, including the first female synagogue president of her congregation, the first woman to read Torah from her synagogue bimah, and more. We celebrated one another’s Simchas (happy occasions) and became true family friends.

Hearing Ruth’s entire life story was riveting. She married young to her beloved Jack, a medallion-holding Newark taxi driver in the days before Uber and Lyft. Medical science being what it was, she had what today would probably be considered an unnecessary hysterectomy at age 20.

Unsympathetically, at that crucial time in her life, a nurse came into her hospital recovery room. Dismissively, the unfeeling nurse told young married Ruth that she would never be able to have children.

With her family’s help, Ruth and Jack adopted a baby boy. She never failed to add that it was her dear older sister who went into the hospital, carried the baby outside, and put him into Ruth’s arms. Her other very loved sister died of an infection before the discovery of penicillin.

Maybe those life’s events are why Ruth often said, “when your finger hurts, your finger hurts.” No one can feel your pain, and you shouldn’t feel sorry for expressing it.

Rest in peace Ruth. You are missed. Because of you, I could unabashedly say, “my toe hurts.” It surely and sorely did.

Jack and Ruth Levinson March 17, 2001, at our son Judd’s bar mitzvah celebration - Always impeccably dressed and kempt