"Please, Call Me Itzik the Fat"; An Unconventional Interview

Not many people get to know Itzik the Fat, and I wouldn't necessarily recommend that many people meet him.

"I was 16 when I realized this was my calling," Itzik the Fat tells me at the very start of our conversation. "Between sessions at the yeshiva, I felt my feet leading me almost automatically to the pediatric oncology department at Hadassah Ein Kerem in Jerusalem, and there I discovered the wonderful world of endless giving to children, parents, and families whose whole worlds have collapsed suddenly amidst their lives."

But why choose the nickname Itzik the Fat? Couldn't you find a more respectable name for your blessed work?

The question doesn't confuse him for a moment, nor does it embarrass him. He smiles broadly as he replies: "Just as there's no smoke without fire, so there's no fat without being overweight. I was indeed overweight in my past, and every time I entered the department, all the kids with cancer would run after me shouting: 'Itzik the Fat, Itzik the Fat!' So how can I part from a nickname given out of such purity by children? It is my sacred name, and I am not willing to part from it at any cost."

For the Children, For the Parents

Itzik Shabtai (30), who insists on sticking with his nickname 'Itzik the Fat,' is married and a father to a daughter. He dedicates his life in a personal and private initiative for the benefit of children with cancer at Hadassah and Schneider hospitals for the past fourteen years.

"I spend all days of the week traveling from store to store, gathering high-quality products and making gourmet treats from them. Each week, on Sundays and Tuesdays, I go up to the oncology departments, lay a cloth over the medicine cart, and begin wandering from room to room, making a little noise, delicacies, balloons, toys, laughs... Just hearing the children's joyful screams fills me with special fuel that gives me strength for the next time, for the next round. I feel an incredible mission in bringing joy to the little children and their parents who fight with courage and bravery."

Their Smile is Worth a Million Dollars

What makes a successful day for you, a day where you mark a victory 'V' in your personal diary, something you didn’t expect to happen but did?

"Every visit to the children's ward is a successful day, there's no way it couldn't be. But if you insist on something extraordinary, I'll tell you about one day where I marked two 'V's at the end. The first 'V' is marked on every visit day, and the second 'V' was marked after visiting a little girl's room who had been hospitalized for 17 days and refused to put any food or even treats into her mouth. She simply refused in the literal sense, with all her nutrition being through a nasogastric tube or various IVs but not orally. The doctors' and nurses' persuasion didn't help at all and seemed to only worsen the situation, but everyone understood she had to put something in her mouth. Alternative feeding methods are not real nutrition, just to prevent starvation.

"This is not the first time I've encountered children who refuse to eat. Every time I face this phenomenon, I place the same dish by the child's bed as the other children in the department get. It's a rule for me, even though I know the dish will probably not be eaten, but there's a one percent chance that the child will taste it, and for me, that's a lot.

I understand that there are times you succeed where doctors fail. Doesn't that sometimes create conflict or tension between you?
"That day, that one percent paid off. I was on my way out of the department after finishing distribution in all the rooms, and then the girl's father called me to come see the great miracle that doctors and nurses couldn't achieve. His daughter, after 17 days, broke her fast because of the treats, smiles, and laughter my magical cart brings."

"The truth is, the hospital staff does not accept just anyone because interests are not always pure, and so it was very difficult for me at first to be accepted as a regular volunteer. Only thanks to my insistence on things that truly came from my heart did they reach theirs, and since then, we work in full cooperation. Moreover, if it happens that I am late, I receive an urgent call from the medical staff asking why I haven't arrived. 'It's unacceptable for you to be late,' they say to me."

From what I know, there are many charity organizations working in these departments. Why do you think your activity is unique and different?

"Your question is already half the answer. Precisely because I am not an organization or an association but a private individual, it is perceived by the patients as something different, something heartfelt, sincere, and genuine. In my opinion, this is the secret of my success in bringing joy to broken hearts."

You connect with such lovely children, joyously touching their pure souls. What happens, God forbid, when you have to part with some of them? How do you not break?

"Who says I don't break?" Itzik asks me honestly, "There's no such thing, brother. After all, I'm also human; I'm not an angel. Angels are in stories. But here, it's the real world, and indeed, there were several times when I almost broke and decided, 'That's it, no more. I can't continue, it's too much for me.' In such situations, there's one unique story engraved in my memory that holds me together."

He pauses for a moment, then takes a deep breath and begins to tell: "It was on the eve of Rosh Hashanah, all of Israel was busy preparing for the holiday. I decided that in honor of the holiday, I would pamper the families staying at the hospital with a small and varied package including cakes, salads, challah, drinks, Rosh Hashanah symbols, and also a small gift for the mother of the child in treatment—something small and symbolic, just to remind her it's Rosh Hashanah and not another routine day in hospital life.

"I went up to the 7th floor of the pediatric oncology department at Schneider, went from room to room with my famous cart, and gave each family the small package I had prepared. While distributing the package, I reached room 5, looking for the family who told me they would be spending the holiday in the department but suddenly noticed they weren't there. I didn't see them, they had left. I felt my heart pounding, mustered courage, and dared to ask the nurses where the family in room 5 was. The nurses told me they had gone down to the intensive care unit. I was slightly relieved, but only slightly, and didn't give up on delivering the package I had made. After finishing my round in the department, I went down to the intensive care unit, entered the not-so-secret code, opened the door, but a number of ICU nurses stood before me, informing me that due to life-saving procedures, there was no entry at the moment. I begged, just let me give the family something, and I would leave immediately, but there was no one to talk to. I asked one of the nurses, and believe me, they're all righteous there, to do me a favor and pass the package to the family that came yesterday from oncology. She promised to do so.

"Throughout the holiday, my mind remained in the intensive care unit, and at the end of the holiday, I rushed to inquire about their health. Entering the ICU, a heavy stone, a boulder rolled off my chest when I met the family I was so worried about. I asked if they received the holiday package I sent with the nurse on the eve of the holiday. In response, they gestured for me to sit down because they wanted to tell me what the little holiday package I gave them meant. And so the child's mother told me: 'On the eve of Rosh Hashanah, at one in the afternoon, when all of Israel is preparing for the holiday, we felt very bad, I was deeply depressed by the current situation, collapsed onto the chair intended for parents' rest, covered my head with a sheet, and from within the pillow, I told my husband: 'We won't have a holiday this year, we'll eat butter with yogurt and a bit of cottage, but not a holiday, no symbols, definitely no joy.' My husband didn't argue; it wasn't hard to convince him. As we fueled each other's bitterness, the nurse came in with the special package you kindly prepared, and suddenly a spark ignited within me, breathing new energy. I told my husband: 'We won't break, we will be strong,' I got up from the chair, strengthened myself, and so we entered the holiday full of strong spirit and hope."

"Shema Yisrael" for the First Time

"But the story doesn't end there. This happened around midnight when they brought down from the oncology department a child whose condition had worsened. His parents stood worrying and crying. Having uplifted myself from the depression that fell upon me because of the package and the little gift in it, I decided at that moment to be a support for the broken parents. It turned out, as I spoke with them, that they did not believe in the Creator or Divine Providence, what we call atheists. I spoke faith and confidence to their hearts, and in their state, it wasn't very difficult. I convinced them to say Shema Yisrael next to their child, and they said for the first time in their lives 'Shema Yisrael.' Unfortunately, it was also the last time for the child who said Shema Yisrael, and all this was thanks to the small Rosh Hashanah package. Some acquire their world in one hour. Now you understand what holds me together?" Itzik the Fat asks me.

And how does your wife handle all this activity? After all, it involves hours of absence from home and considerable effort...

"My wife didn't know anything about this activity, and maybe if she had known earlier, I would not have been fortunate to be her husband. But I understood long ago that I’m not the one managing things here; rather, it's the Creator of the world, ensuring that good people are drawn to good deeds. That's how I managed to pull my wife deep into this blessed activity.

All week, my righteous wife prepares all the gourmet dishes and treats for the oncology department. It has become a family act of kindness that keeps us busy most of the week, busy and fills our hearts with a small dose of giving and a large dose of receiving, the smiles of the little kids and their courageous parents."

Finally, forgive me for asking, but I can’t leave our readers in suspense. How did you manage to lose such a drastic amount of weight?

"This nickname stuck with me before I got married when I weighed 30% more than you see now. The decision to lose weight came when I met my wife and realized she is my other half. From that moment on, everything was easier. Believe me, when you want something, nothing stands in your way. Ask the sweet children here."