My first son was much anticipated by all of us, especially his grandparents. I wanted to name him Stefan after my grandfather who perished during the Holocaust but they insisted that he be named Joseph after his living grandfather.
I regretted that I wouldn’t be able to attend my sister’s wedding in London because it was to take place on April 1 and I was in Israel, very close to giving birth. My sister said she chose that date specially because if she did not end up happy, it would be because she was an April fool!
Dov was born on March 30, 1962. I was immediately moved to a private room, which I thought was because my cousin worked for Kupat Holim (the Israeli health-care system).
Unfortunately, this was not the reason. They explained to me that the child had Down syndrome and would have to be placed in a special home to receive care. They intimated that he was very weak and would probably not live long. I was completely lost.
The first facility Dov was placed in was apparently not very good, and my cousin helped us find a better one, but 60 years ago Israel did not have proper facilities for such special conditions.
When my father, who was in London, learned of our difficulties, he offered to bring Dov and me to the UK—first to consult a good doctor to confirm Dov’s condition, and also to look into a more appropriate place for his care.
I flew to London with Dov. A doctor on Harley Street confirmed that he must have 24-hour care and recommended he stay in England. With my sister’s help, I looked for a place where Dov could get adequate support. I had to apply to the United Kingdom’s Home Office for permission to leave him there. Since our family had British citizenship—we came as refugees from Poland after World War II—it was granted.
Soon after Dov was settled, I had to go back home to Tel Aviv and to my job at the US Embassy. I kept in touch with the people who cared for Dov. My father and sister did too. Dov was non-verbal, but slowly he learned how to communicate. Each year he seemed to gain strength and become more interactive.
Dov had lived in many different facilities by the time he was 12, but we had to find another place for him since he could not perform certain tasks. As he was Jewish and had been born in Israel, he was allowed temporary placement in a Jewish care facility. He seemed very happy there. My brother-in-law’s sister happened to have friends whose child was also in this facility. They spoke up for Dov and he was accepted permanently. He has been happy there for 40 years and celebrated his 60th birthday on March 30, 2022.
I couldn’t visit Dov during the pandemic but my nieces took good care to stay in touch with him and keep me informed. In 2024, I was finally able to visit him again with his younger brother, Joe, and we all celebrated.
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