You know things are bad when. I like that. Start every sentence with that, and this will be an amazing comedic piece. It may take longer to read the article that way, but it will bring more laughs. 
You may not be aware that things are bad, and I am here to help make it clear. There are levels of bad, and some may not be aware of the higher levels of things not going well. Here is a list to help you remember things are bad.

The Family Comes Out to the Hospital
The more family that visits, the worse the situation is. Five people visiting you at the same time in the hospital means you're probably waking up from surgery. Community might visit. Eight family members means there was an accident. All siblings, children, parents and one grandchild means you're in some ICU. Fifteen family members in the room, you've got it bad. You start seeing your cousins showing up, it's bad. You've got to start questioning if you were resuscitated. The more family that comes the worse it is. Fifth cousin, Eitan, shows up, you're probably dead.

If You are in a Gown For More than a Day
It is just bad. It's worse than sweatpants. You know you're stuck in that room. You know you're not going out with your tuchis showing.

People Are Talking Close to You And Loud
If they're talking loud, there's a problem. And you now know that you may have lost everything but your hearing.
They talk loud because you look bad. It has nothing to do with your abilities. There are levels of sick loudness, and that comes along with distance. If they're right up at your bed, leaning into your face and yelling, you are extremely ill. You may not feel it, but you definitely look it. To them, you are very sick. They are yelling in conversation.
The sicker you are, the closer they talk to you, and the louder. If your family is staring right at you, at the distance of three inches, question if you’re still alive.

They Talk About You As If You Are Not There
Those same people are talking close to you, are now talking about you. They are speaking Lashon Hara about you, right in front of you. 'Michael has had a bad day.' 'Michael. Me. Is right here!!!' 'Michael fell and is now here.' 'Can people stop talking about me.' And if they don't hear you, that's worse.
If they can hear you, they definitely won't care what you say, as it's more fun to talk about how sick people are in front of them. It feels more like an act of Rachmanis (compassion) when you don't care what the sick person is saying.
If it's a big group talking about you. Even worse. Doctors rounding on you with students. Now, they're using you for a study. Questions about dissection is real bad. 

You Start Playing a lot of Bingo
If you're playing Bingo and you never smoked, you are in a nursing facility.

You Get A Comfortable Bed From Your Prescription
Your bed now doubles as a recliner. Actually not that bad. But you did hit a threshold of sick when your bed reclines and rises, and you didn't have to pay for it.

You're Drinking Shasta Cola
If you're drinking any cola that isn't Coke or Pepsi, there is a problem. You've been thrown into a nursing facility. Shasta is the national sign that you're in a nursing facility. Store brands also count for nursing facility realization.

Hallmark is Playing
If it's not the Golden Girls. At least that's a quality show.

Your Pills Have Days On Them
When you have to organize your pills in day form, and that is how you spend your Sundays.

​You Don't See Grandchildren
They know they're not getting any gifts from you once you're in the home, because Medicare doesn't cover chachkies from Five and Below. That's when they stop visiting. It's clear, all of your belongings are relegated to a drawer. There is no way grandma is substituting her last dress that she has for Nursing Home Barbie. Nursing Home Barbie's open back gown might scare the kids. (note for royalties: If Nursing Home Barbie goes out for public consumption, I get kickbacks).

You bend over and a fart comes out. Just bent and that was it. You didn't even realize it was coming.

You have to lick your fingers to turn pages.

You realize the pages are still not turning, so you build up a good chach and spit.

People say stuff like 'she's vibrant.' When they use words like vibrant and with it, you're older and look like you are about to die.

You decide to push a button to open the door. Pushing a door open is too much effort.

You throw your coat from a seated position. After finding a sofa or the closest thing, you throw the coat as close to the closet as possible. One thing that you will not do is get up and hang it.

Getting into your car is the activity. You finally make it into the car and you have to go back home already, and you're still at home. 

Just being in the hospital. If you don't know how you got there, that's bad. If you wake up in an MRI machine, and don't know how you got there.

Going out means you're going for a CT scan.

All of your shirts are open in the back.

You see other people's tushies all the time.

You're eight inches shorter than you were at eighteen. Note: I want to be 6’6” so I can be normal height at 85.

Playing BINGO is your exercise.

The grandkids say you have a smell. They say, 'Grandpa has a smell.' And you think you smell fine. You've gotten older and you can't even smell it.

Enjoy having it bad. The worse you have it, the more you can enjoy life. The less shopping you have to do. You're not grocery shopping with backless outfits. Tuchises scare people away from the vegetable section.
You know things are bad when people are shopping for you. Come to think of it, a good amount of the 'things are bad when' can be substituted with 'you're getting older when.' This way, you can focus on the positives of getting older and going from 5'10" to 4'3" while smelling bad.

***For a Refuah Sheleyma for חיה נחה בת ריבה לאה and all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.

Last night I figured out some nursing home DIYs (do it yourself or fix its). The oxygen machine was making noise, as it always does. It's supposed to make noise and give you enough oxygen so that the noise bothers you.
The machine was loud and none of the aides or nurses could figure out what to do. Half of them pretended like they heard nothing and kept walking.
Noise minimization is not part of the medical profession education. When you take on the job as a member of the medical staff, you're trained in noise embracement. They place you at the runway of an airport for a week, to make sure you can handle the noise. As the lay professional I figured it out how to minimize the noise, as well as other DIYs to help the families in nursing facilities, and when Chas vShalom, a loved one ends up in the hospital.

Loud Oxygen Machine
You're a normal person, so the sound of a lawnmower in your room is bothersome. It would seem that old people have accepted loud gardening machines by their bed, as they are old and the nursing facility staff knows that nobody will care if they complain. Half of them can't even talk. Nobody will believe them, because they are old. If they were to tell their child that there is noise pollution in their room, their child would go off on how their dad hasn't heard them for the past thirty years, and how dad was never there for them. That's why most old people don't complain. They don't want their kids going off on how they raised them wrong.
And then their child would say it doesn't bother them, because the child can deal with it for five minutes, until they leave in their silent car, a hybrid. And that is how we end up with all nursing facilities machines being crazy loud.
The machine was bothering me, as I was there too long. I am in my mid-forties, so I'm allowed to be bothered. Me being bothered is still legitimate. 
DIY: Put a weight on the machine. I took a five pound dumbbell and put it on the machine. It stopped shaking like crazy. The staff was amazed. Brilliant! Less noise. Now it sounds like a vacuum in the room.
To get rid of all the noise, and get some exercise, I lifted the machine. The dumbbell was on it and I was in a bind. As I lifted the machine, I pulled the plug out of the wall and disconnected the tube. I would've kept holding the machine, but I had to head out after a couple of hours. The machine didn't make any noise when I was holding it. Not sure if it was my lifting it, or if it was my pulling out the plug. If you want to try your own DIY, you may just want to unplug the machine. See if that stops the noise. Do check with the medical staff though.

Loud Shoes
I have what are known as squeakers. Almost every pair of shoes I have are squeakers. They squeak. I walk everywhere with them and I hear no noise. I go into a nursing facility or hospital and I 'm the loudest thing there. Alarms are going off and people are staring at my shoes.
I end up waking up the residents when I pass their rooms. It gives my mom a warning that I am coming to her room, so see she can pretend like she is asleep; but you can't sleep when I am walking- which is why they make me leave at 9pm. I am not the greatest guest. All I know is that the shoes are loud on those floors.
Whatever disinfectant they use on them is loud. Everything is loud in these facilities, especially my shoes.
DIY: Load up the bottom of the shoes with soap. If that doesn't work, stick a Clorox pad to the sole. The hospital and nursing facilities have tons of Clorox pads.
DIY 2: Do not lift your feet. Slide the feet. Glide as much as possible. The lifting of the shoe is when the squeak starts. Crawling is even better. As some facilities don't clean very well, the maintenance staff will appreciate this.
Gliding doesn't always work. The last time I glided, my shoes got stuck. It's got to be the cleaning material.
DIY 3: Pretend like you don't even notice the noise. Squeakers bounce off the walls, and their sound can be thrown. The only issue is you coming in every day and squeaking. After a good week or two of squeakers, they'll know it's you.

Groaning
You will hear a lot of groaning. That is there to add to the feeling of loud. I have tried, but no matter what I do, the groaning won't stop. It comes from everywhere. I think it's a natural reaction to being in a nursing facility. Everybody turns into an old Jew.
DIY: Close the door, so that you can focus on the noise of the oxygen machine.

Press the Button For Emergency
​I was afraid to press the button at first, thinking I would blow something up. Then, I pressed it and nothing happened. Noise was going off. Nothing blew up, and nobody came down. They couldn't hear the call, as the runway noise cancellation training was good. 
The only not loud noise seems to be the emergency button.
DIY: Walk to the nursing station. They will be sitting there. If they're not there, they are in the break-room. The idea is to catch a staff member and tell them you pressed the button. Then they will come down in fifteen minutes. They will have to finish whatever game they are playing on the phone; usually, that's not more than fifteen minutes.
It took me a while to learn this. They have fifteen minutes till they have to be at the room. So, always remember to warn the staff fifteen minutes before the crisis takes place.
For groans without a beep, they have forty-five minutes to get there. I've timed it.

Machine Beeping for Three Hours
The IV runs out. What happens? It starts beeping a constant beep that starts to pound your head. This high frequency can be heard by dogs and you.
DIY: Unplug it. Pull the thing out of the wall. Do it in anger. You will know when to do this. You will be extremely frustrated, and your head will be pounding.

TV Walkie-Talkie
Can't hear the thing. It's too low. If it's louder, all you hear is tin. It's like tin rattling and a bad walkie-talkie you and your friends thought would be cool in third grade. Then you realized that there's a reason truckers don't use Fisher Price.
The only thing you want to hear is the only thing you can't. With the oxygen machine, the beeping, the other resident groaning, they've decided to ensure that at least the TV doesn't cause noise pollution. The TV and the emergency buttons don't bother anybody, other than the people trying to use them.
DIY: Computer. Place a computer in front of the resident or patient. This is a great DIY, until it gets stolen. That could be a good evening of enjoyable screen time.
Make sure to also bring your own computer and earbuds. You'll need to get entertained, and there is no reason that you should have to deal with the outside noise.

Conclusion
Anything regarding care, do it yourself.
I've got to get a heavier weight for the oxygen machine. Why those things don't come with a weight set is beyond me. My head is pounding and the high pitch is going off. The IV is finished and the nurse is waiting till they hit us on the rounds. I think my visit is over.

***For a Refuah Sheleyma for חיה נחה בת ריבה לאה and all who need a speedy recovery, and shared laughter with their family and friends.

Sunday Sunday
Journal Entry by Rabbi Shaya Kilimnick — December 27, 2015

​This past Shabbos was so nice. Rachi & Ron, Lipman's , Jane, Carmalia, etc. sent over food  for Shabbos. My son and grandchildren from New Jersey were here as well. It was a beautiful Shabbos of Divre Torah and Zmirot.
Sunday we were at Wilmot Cancer center for blood transfusion. I only needed platelets and we were there for around 2 hours. I came home exhausted but rested. My back started to feel better today as well.
I don't know how to thank you all enough for Tefillot, Prayers, cards, donations, from all my family friends and colleagues from across the world.
The only sad thing is that I will not be able to return to shul for another 3-5 months. I now understand King David's Lament (Psalm 27) .'One thing I ask of G-d , which is most important , is to dwell in the House of G-d and and to immerse myself in His pleasantness and to appreciate his Sanctuary'
I miss the daily minyan, Shabbos dovening. I am committed however to once again be able to be there, teach Torah, and to lead .
Love to all. Rabbi Kilimnick

His Child's Commentary & Lessons He Learned from Abba 

12 hearts
People are commenting that they need Abba back in shul and they can't do it without him. That's a lot of pressure for somebody going through transfusions. Selfish. Trying to get him to work when he's down on platelets. 'You're a pillar of our community.' Others were not in town, so they said they won't go out of their way to visit, until they come back. They all wanted him back in shul. We still want him back in shul. Since Abba's move to Olam Haba, nothing is more apparent than Beth Sholom is his shul. His Neshama built the place, with my Mom. Their friendliness and energy. People wanted my father back in shul and he wanted to be there. That was his community that he built, and that he continued. He respected those people. Those who came before him. He saw so many of them as Tzadikim. 
He has people rooting for him. Cancer is like a sport for these people. They want him to beat it. You root for the anti-cancer team.
There is some Chizuk, most of which is about Abba. There is expression of his leadership, even at this moment, how people appreciate it. But nobody could show that appreciation of the person more than Abba. ​I have never seen a rabbi respect their elders like my dad.

I always said, telling people that you are in remission was the worst idea. When my father got to remission, the congregants started coming to him with their complaints. It was endless. It's like they started stockpiling complaints from the time he got cancer. Notebooks full. Complaints like 'where were you?' was messed up.
​
Sunday Sunday. Abba loved Sundays. 'Everyday is Sunday at Carvel.' Sunday was family day when Abba was a kid. They would get in the car and visit family. One of his greatest stories of comedic prowess was when they would go to an event as a family in the middle of the week. He was a kid and when his mother would yell at his father, his father would respond in a frustrated tone, 'You're going to turn this into a Sunday?!'
That's comedy that touches the soul. Abba dealt on that level. That's what made him so funny. He touched people's souls. He would have people rolling in that soulful laughter, and when he felt it, he would keep bringing it.

Shabbat was great. There was food. We didn't see people, but we saw food. I think the food meant more to Abba than the people. As important as the community is to Abba, they are not brisket and lamb chops. It was so much better to see the food than them.
Abba always made Shabbat great. Shabbat in my house was living. It was always alive, thanks to my mother and father. My brother being there with his family is definitely what brought my father the true joy of Shabbat. He wasn't eating as much (still, just seeing food brought happiness- seeing a lot of food, as it should).
My brother took Zmirot (Shabbat songs) and Dvrei Torah (words of Torah thought) to the next level at the Shabbat meal. His family is bringing joy to Abba. I'm not a big fan of the elementary school Dvar Torah, where I have to listen to them read what the teacher told them in school that week. As the uncle, I am sitting there asking why they don't teach speed-reading at these places. The parents and grandparents love it. It's pure Nachis. As an uncle, I get Nachis seeing the kids enjoy brisket; I know that kid will be a good Jew. 
All I can think, with so many people they could've sent more food.

'All I needed was platelets.' That's not a small thing. You need them to not bleed out everything. At this point, Abba's view on life was one of appreciation. He appreciated having the platelets. He appreciated Shabbat. He appreciated the doctors. He appreciated them more than anybody can imagine.
The way that Abba spoke about doctors, thank God at least one of his children made him proud. For me, he would have to justify my being a comedian with lines like, 'He's a joke surgeon. He dissects jokes.'
Always a bad back. You reach forty-five and you have a bad back. The rest of your life is suffered with a bad back. Some people make it to their 100s, with a bad back. You reach forty-five and all you want is a massage. You need massages and have a bad back.

'We were there.' That can mean two people or twelve people. That depends on how much family wanted to join in the cancer treatment celebration that day. Going for cancer treatments was an event in the beginning.
I remember the Wilmot Cancer Center. Great ginger ale and granola bars. They served that ginger ale with the crushed ice. So, our whole family showed. We had aunts and uncles coming in for granola. Word of crushed ice must've got out, as relatives that skipped Bar Mitzvahs showed.
Abba doesn't mention how much food we took off the cart. It was a lot.
That free stuff in the beginning of the cancer treatment was amazing. The problem is they didn't have enough food for our family and the people being treated as well. At a certain point, we had to let the cousins know that we had to cut off ginger ale requests at first cousins. Second cousins and anything with a 'removed' couldn't expect ginger ale and crushed ice.
Our whole family was showing up. It was a woman with a transfusion, another woman with a transfusion, a guy with a transfusion, Abba, my aunt reclining on the chair, a cousin chilling, myself on my computer, another four relatives eating pretzels, granola bars, and drinking ginger ale.
They had the sign they put up a week after we were there. 'Only two people allowed per patient.' They should've written, 'No more than two Kilimnicks. We don't have enough granola and crushed ice for everybody.'
It was at this time that Abba was already friends with the other people being treated. He made a community wherever he went.

The appreciation is there. Appreciation of people, of community, of their good. If there's something I learned as son of Abba, it's appreciation. It's Hakarat HaTov. Seeing the good in people and appreciating them. Appreciating their good. Teffilot (prayers), cards, donations. No idea where those donations went. That's still a mystery. Nobody donated to my parent's vacation fund. I didn't see any of that donation money.
It seems they gave money to whomever they wanted, then they said, 'And let that be in honor of Rabbi Kilimnick.' I think I saw one of the letters from the Jewish Federation in honor of Abba. It said, 'You will never see this money. Thank you for being sick.'

Not being at shul was extremely hard for Abba. He was a rabbi and remains the spiritual leader of his congregation. He lived that life in this world. He loved his shul, connected with his congregants. Him saying that he will pray in the shul alone with all of the people who have passed to Olam HaEmet is a testament to his character and commitment. He mentioned that sentiment countless times. His connection to shul was to the soul of the shul. His not being able to be there physically, hurt that commitment to the past generations. It's much easier to love congregants when you don't have to hear them complain.
Not being able to pray at shul meant Abba was praying at home. And when I visited, it made it harder to be loud in the house. Abba was taking a lot of time praying. I think it was his way of getting out of having to answer the phone.
It's that connection with the past, and respect, that makes Abba the pillar of the community. I would say, more of the root of the community.

Abba always brings Torah. That's his way. A true rabbi and spiritual leader. As King David only wanted to live in the Sanctuary of God. That was Abba. Only wanting to live in God's Sanctuary. The perfect Pasuk (sentence). He was amazing with finding the meaning in Torah. For me, dwelling in the House of God meant hanging out at home, watching TV. We each find our own meaning in the Torah.

He always had hope. Always hope. Always a commitment. A commitment to get back and lead and teach, and to be part of his community, his people. His commitment and desire to give was his hope. That's why he told people about remission. I told him not to, as they were waiting to pounce with issues.
And he did come back and lead. He led Musaf. Thank God, he led for more years.
As Abba would quote (can't quote the person Abba quoted- maybe Dr. Sobel) 'Healing is what's between the ears.' That means it's in the head. Not everybody catches onto that. Abba lived by that.
Positive Mental Attitude. I remember hearing that, when Abba was talking with a boxing promoter on the way back from the Kotel. The ideas the promoter shared of ducking and weaving didn't stick with me. However, I have took in that positive mental attitude that is necessary for a champion boxer. I would definitely get into that ring confident that I will get hurt.
Abba listened to people. Wanted to get to know them. And he shared their teachings and stories, no matter who they were. Everybody has something to offer, and Abba respected people. Every Jew is a holy Neshama (soul), and Abba believe that. So many stories from Shiva were about how Abba heard people for who they are. I wouldn't want to be judged like that.
Nobody met people like Abba. The greatest ability to connect with strangers. Truly connect. I come from a family that knows how to connect with people. A good family. It's good to know that my family is about community. My aunts and uncles are great community people too. They connect with people. As I saw, they will get to know the history of a stranger's life, if there's a chance they can score more ginger ale and granola.

Abba had a spiritual connection his people, his shul, his community. And he was loved for that. He loved people. Abba loved people and will forever love people. People and food.
Abba saw the good in people, even if their donations had nothing to do with him, other than his name. Even if they could've given more food, Abba appreciated their good. He learned from them all. And nobody more than his elder congregants. 
מפני שיבה תקום והדרת פני זקן- ויקרא י"ט:ל"ב I hope my father is schepping some Nachis with my use of the Pasuk of respecting older people, and standing for them. Would I give up a seat in shul for them? I'll have to think about that.

For an Aliyas Neshama for רב ישעיה בן יחזקאל זצ"ל and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.