The key is, you have to love them like your own.— Mohamed Bzeek
In these dark times that we find ourselves in, there are still a lot of people across the world who inspire hope and faith in humanity. These people are like brilliant stars on a dark night – and one of the stars who shines brightest is Mohamed Bzeek.
The prognosis for all of the children was grim.
Mohamed Bzeek knew that.
But for nearly thirty years, first with his dearly departed wife, and now fortified with her memory, his faith, and the mission that he has imbibed, Bzeek has been a living heart in the Los Angeles hospice system, taking each and every child that had no one. Literally, no one. No biological family. No foster family. Just hospitals, wards, units. Not the one-on-one a child...any child, healthy or ill, needs. And these children were very, very ill. They would die.
“Without Bzeek, these children would be forced to live in medical facilities rather than the comfort of a loving home”, says Neil Nanville of the L.A. Dept. Of Child and Family Services. “Mr. Bzeek is dealing with children who only have a limited amount of time. I think he's even taken children in that died days later. So it's the rare individual, or he might be the only individual in LA county, that will provide a home environment and provide love and care when a child in fact has very limited time left."
Since 1989, he has cared for 80 children. 40 that were terminal. 10 that have died in his loving arms. His current charge, his “daughter” is a 6 year old with a rare brain defect. Who is deaf, blind, paralyzed and has daily seizures. Abandoned by her parents at 7 weeks of age. To avoid choking, she sleeps either laying down but with lots of memory foam pillows under her neck, or more often than not, sitting up. With Bzeek sleeping, when he can, on the couch next to her.
Bzeek has cared for her for all but two months of her 6 years, and he cared for three other children who had the fatal illness. One lived for eight days whilst in his care, and was so small that a doll maker from the mosque made her a tiny dress whilst a woodworker from the mosque constructed a coffin the size of a shoebox, which Bzeek held gently and reverently as he carried it to the gravesite.
Speaking about his current daughter, as he held her and gently rocked her, “I know she can’t hear, can’t see, but I always talk to her. I’m always holding her, playing with her, touching her. … She has feelings. She has a soul. She’s a human being”.
Dr. Suzanne Roberts, the girl’s pediatrician at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, told the Times that by the time the child was 2 years old, they had exhausted all options in attempting to improve her condition. The girl, who was not identified in the article due to confidentiality laws, spends 22 hours a day hooked to feeding and medication tubes, and, according to Roberts, has only survived for as long as she has because of Bzeek's tender care.
At any given time, there are between 30,000 and 40,000 children monitored by the county’s Department of Children and Family Service. Usually between 500 to 1000 of them are in need of hospice care. That are terminally ill.
“If anyone ever calls us and says, ‘This kid needs to go home on hospice,’ there’s only one name we think of,” said Melissa Testerman, a DCFS intake coordinator who finds placements for sick children. “He’s the only one that would take a child who would possibly not make it.”
“The key is, you have to love them like your own, I know they are sick. I know they are going to die. I do my best as a human being and leave the rest to God.”
A great deal of Mohamed's empathy for these children stems from when he was 62 years old and was diagnosed with cancer. His wife had already passed away and his son Adam, born in 1997, is handicapped with many physical challenges, so he had to go to the hospital and face surgery without anyone by his side. Mohamed felt completely alone – just like all the abandoned children who visit hospitals every day. “And i was an adult. Imagine a young child in that position scared and alone.”
Bzeek is a heavy-set man, though when he arrived here from Libya in 1978, he was thin and fit, from years of daily track and field. “Beth always cooked healthy food.” And since her passing, his full-time caring rarely allows him outside for exercise. The eldest of ten siblings, he helped his parents take care of a dying brother and grandmother. Three years later, introduced through a friend, he met his wife to be, Dawn. She came from a long line of foster parents, as her parents and her grandparents also had the calling. She too, had a calling.
Before they met, in 1980, she registered and become a foster parent. First, for children in protective custody. That needed a home immediately.
“She fell in love with every child she took in. ...she was never scared by the children’s illnesses or the possibility that they would die.”
After they got married, they decided to become permanent foster parents. Over 50 children together. Often the children were ill, but it was in 1991 that Mohamed experienced his first death. A farm worker’s child whose mother worked in the fields that had been sprayed with toxic chemicals whilst pregnant. She was born with a fatal spinal disorder, Alexander Disease, and wore a full body cast at all times, had seizures, bled from her nose and ears constantly and was ten months old when she died.
“This one hurt me so badly when she died.” the soft-spoken Bzeek said as he pointed to one of the dozens of pictures that adorned his home...of his children.
In 1995, they had a heart to heart with the director of the foster care department that they had become a part of. Would they consider caring specifically for those children that were expected to die? No other foster care parent in the city had agreed to take-on such a challenge. They had their own heart to heart. About 30 seconds worth, before they readily agreed. They had discussed and considered this already amongst themselves. Of course.
This is quoted directly from that Times article www.latimes.com/...
He feels that it's his duty as a Muslim to help those in need.
"It's the big factor, my faith, because I believe as a Muslim we need to extend our hand to help people who need us. Doesn't matter what nationality, what religion, what country. To me it doesn't matter, I do it as a human being for another human being."
He was recently contacted by government officials because he falls in three categories that are a no-no in the current administration. Libyan. Muslim. Immigrant. But the HUGE outpouring of defense from so many people and agencies...he has not heard from them again.
The whole story is so beautiful it hurts.
“There is always good in this world, you know, more than the bad, always. That’s what I believe.”
Thursday, Jul 6, 2017 · 5:19:08 AM +00:00 · Tevye
Some members have let me know that even though i linked the source of parts of the story, i quoted too many direct paragraphs for their comfort. And that i was bordering on breaking the DK guidelines. Yikes! I immediately took care of that. Thank you.
It would be hard, which such a story and such a man, not to make the Recommended List. Which it did. Again, thank you.