From Coma to Courage: A Journey of Faith and Recovery

A terrible car accident during 10th grade changed everything for Suriel Naftalieb of Petah Tikva. He was badly injured and slipped into a coma that lasted three months. Doctors told his family he would never wake up again. He spent five long years in rehabilitation at Beit Loewenstein, but today, he is a living inspiration.

In an interview with mynet, Naftalieb shares his story. “The fact that I’m alive is a miracle,” he says. “Doctors said I would never walk, talk, or move my hands.” Now, he studies in college, trains in karate, and lives a full life. “I didn’t speak for over a year after the accidentso,  now I love to talk, to make up for all those lost words,” he adds with a laugh.

The accident happened 12 years ago on Lag BaOmer. His injuries were severe: six fractures on the left side of his body, and his head hit the windshield so hard it shattered. First, he was hospitalized at Beilinson and later moved to Schneider. “They told my family I wouldn’t survive,” he remembers. “Either I would die, or I’d remain in a vegetative state.” Even his father’s cousin, a senior doctor at Hadassah Hospital, couldn’t offer hope. He just shook his head silently when asked if Suriel would make it.

But one person believed: his father. “My father kept saying I would live,” Naftalieb says. Years later, at a family wedding, that same cousin saw him and told his father in the Kavkazi language, “Your son is returning to himself.” His father responded with pride, “He’s not just returning to himself, he’s gone beyond that, doing things others only dream of.”

Doctors Were Shocked: Signs of Life After Three Months

After three months in a coma, Suriel began to stir. “Less than a month after I woke up, they asked the man in the bed next to me, ‘What’s two plus three?’” he recalls. “Before he could answer, I slowly lifted my hand and signaled ‘5.’ Everyone was shocked. My mother had always believed I was responding, and now the doctors saw it too.”

The senior doctor began asking him more questions. Suriel used hand signals to ask for harder ones. “My father told him, ‘Ask him square roots.’ I answered until he asked about the square root of 80 and I told him it’s not exact!”

Soon after, he was transferred to Beit Loewenstein for rehabilitation. At first, there was no room in the children’s department, but thanks to his father’s persistence, he was admitted to the adult ward. “I turned 17 there,” he shares. He spent five years in total, two and a half as an inpatient and two and a half in daily outpatient therapy.

When asked what was hardest about rehab, Suriel doesn’t hesitate. “What’s easy in rehab? Everything is hard. I did the most painful and scary exercises. I trained eight hours a day, even when they said it wasn’t good for me. I pushed myself because I believed I could heal.” With three fractures in his arm, leg, and ribs, he still did push-ups. “The psychologists couldn’t believe where I found the strength. I just knew I wanted to return to myself.”

“Laugh at Everything Especially Yourself”

One emotional moment during rehab came when doctors said he’d always have a noticeable eye squint. “I saw how people treated those with a squint, and I didn’t want that. I went straight to the best eye specialist, without an appointment, and begged her to help. She said it could be fixed with surgery and I insisted it be done that same week. They wanted to schedule it months later, but I didn’t give up. After the surgery, they said I’d need weeks to open my eyes but I did it almost immediately. The doctor was amazed.”

For years, Naftalieb gave public talks about his journey. He often opened with, “Laugh at everything especially yourself.”

“At first people didn’t understand, but then they got it,” he says. “Humor kept me going in the hardest times.”

In one story from rehab, he remembers sneaking out for a walk around the hospital even though it was against doctor’s orders. “I put the walker aside and just walked. A doctor caught me on another floor and yelled at me and the nurses. But I had to try. Even in rehab, I insisted on walking again.”

His speaking career started while still in the hospital. He has since given many talks at Beit Loewenstein, the Spivak Center for the Disabled, and at Ahad Ha’am Junior High, where he studied as a boy.

He speaks with complete honesty. “It’s not hard, it actually helps me. I started collecting inspiring quotes to share at every lecture.”

Audience responses are overwhelmingly positive. He consistently receives the highest ratings. His parents once attended a talk and were stunned. “They couldn’t believe their son was standing on stage speaking to so many people. I don’t focus on what I was, but on who I’m becoming,” he says.

To young audiences, he shares this message: “Before you judge how I walk, talk, or act, walk in my shoes. Fall where I fell. Try to get up like I did. Then, say whatever you want.”

Now, he dreams of turning his story into a book. “Even in the hospital, I told myself: if this had to happen, let it at least make a good story,” he says with a smile. “For the story and for life, I worked hard to recover.”

He’s already written a powerful manuscript. A writer who read it said it could become a great book, but it needs funding. “My goal is to give people hope. To show that it’s possible to climb out of even the deepest places. I believe people will be inspired. And maybe, if they hear my story, they’ll think twice before doing something reckless on the road. I just need someone to give me a chance.”

“My Faith in Hashem Got Stronger”

Suriel says his emunah, faith in Hashem, grew stronger after the accident. “I was close to Hashem, and He decided I should stay in this world. I have no doubts. The very fact that I’m alive is a miracle. Doctors said I wouldn’t walk, speak, or move. Today I lift 20 kg weights.”

When he finally returned home, his family still lived in a building without an elevator. His brother carried him up the stairs.

Getting back to everyday life wasn’t easy. He remembers one difficult outing at the mall. “I wanted to buy an iced coffee. I still didn’t speak clearly. The cashier asked me to repeat myself, then walked away and laughed at me. Today, I don’t care what people think. Let them laugh. This is what Hashem wanted, and I believe I’m stronger than all of them.”

Two years after the crash, he weighed only 52 kg (about 115 pounds). Today, he’s a healthy 65 kg (143 pounds). His arms, once 27 cm in circumference, are now a strong 40 cm. For an entire year, he didn’t walk. For eight months, he couldn’t move his arm.

“I used to watch people leave the rehab department while I stayed behind. It made me furious,” he admits. “I think about the accident every single day. May 27, 2005, it’s always with me. People say, ‘Why don’t you forget it?’ I say why forget what gives me strength? That day and everything that happened since, it’s what makes me who I am.”