Part I: The Patient’s Perspective

The following describes the experiences of Stephen Moskovits following a cardiac arrest and his subsequent recovery.

Following a cardiac arrest several years ago, when my heart suddenly stopped, I embarked on a long and arduous journey toward recovery. My first six weeks were spent in a hospital with very limited awareness of what had happened or the consequences it had caused. It was only after I was transferred to a rehabilitation facility that I began to realize the extent of my limitations, though I still did not know their cause.

I arrived in a state of total dependence. I had a tracheostomy, a hole in my neck to help me breathe, and could not speak. I had a feeding tube placed in my stomach, which meant I did not receive normal food, and my strength was so limited that I could not even turn myself from side to side. This led to serious consequences, as I developed severe wounds during my hospital stay. My hands were stiff and swollen, preventing me from performing simple tasks like holding a phone or buttoning a shirt. Additionally, I suffered from a dropped foot, leaving me with very limited sensation and movement in my right toes.

Compounding these physical hurdles was the isolation of the COVID-19 era. With limited family visits and the inability to speak or even hold a phone, I had no way to communicate. The presence of a full-time aide in rehab helped prevent my wounds from worsening, and a tablet in my room allowed my family to see and hear me. While I still could not speak, this connection helped significantly with the sense of isolation.

Recovery in rehab began with many difficulties. To make my needs known, I used a small square containing the alphabet to slowly spell out words, as my swollen hands prevented me from writing. I could not reach my toes to put on socks or shoes, and when my shoes were eventually put on, the pain was initially excruciating.

Eventually, I reached a point where I could get out of bed with assistance and take a few steps. At first, I couldn't see the point of the therapy, as taking only a step or two with great difficulty and pain didn't seem to lead to significant improvement. However, the therapists convinced me that the pain was worth enduring and that the process would ultimately restore my ability to walk.

Gradually, I was able to take steps using a walker, and then even a few steps without one. During this time, I still required assistance to get out of bed and could not yet take care of myself or shower. As the therapy progressed, we began to plan for my return home. The tracheostomy was removed, and I had to relearn how to breathe normally and swallow. As I continued to improve the feeding tube was also removed and I learned how to drink and eat normally again. I performed significant exercises with my hands to regain their use for simple tasks. In rehab, I increased my walking distance with a walker and learned how to navigate steps, which was vital for my transfer home.

When I was first transferred home, I was still somewhat limited; I could only walk with a walker, and my wounds made sitting for long periods uncomfortable. With continuing therapy at home, my wounds eventually healed over several months, and I was gradually able to walk unassisted. I have since been able to resume normal activities, such as preparing meals and taking showers.

Looking back, the road from total dependency to functional independence was long, but it was paved by the expertise and encouragement of those around me. All of this was made possible by the intensive therapy I received in the rehabilitation facility combined with the continued support and therapy provided upon my return home. I am deeply grateful for the resilience I found through this process and for the care that allowed me to return to my life and my family.

Part II: The Daughter’s Perspective

The following is the account of Channa Leibowitz, MS CCC-SLP.

The Life Before

Prior to October 2020, Stephen Moskovits lived a full and devoted life. Though retired, his days were structured by faith and scholarship; he attended synagogue for prayers three times daily and regularly shared his wisdom through lectures on Torah topics. There was no warning of the crisis to come; he had been feeling perfectly well when he retired for the evening on October 22.

The Night of the Crisis

In the middle of the night, my father suffered a sudden cardiac arrest, his heart stopped and he wasn’t breathing. In what we later realized was a moment of true saving grace, my brother heard the collapse and found him immediately. Volunteer responders from Hatzalah volunteer emergency medical service arrived within minutes. Their rapid, expert intervention achieved Return of Spontaneous Circulation (ROSC) after twenty minutes of CPR—a critical window that saved his life.

The ICU: A Time of Advocacy and Complexity

Upon admission to New York-Presbyterian Queens, my father tested positive for COVID-19, despite being entirely asymptomatic. Those early days were "touch and go." Because of pandemic regulations, our family was forced to navigate the unthinkable: leaving a loved one alone in the hospital overnight.

Throughout this period, I remained in constant contact with his providers, ensuring they saw the person behind the patient. We showed the hospital staff "before" pictures of my father so they could see the active man he was just hours prior to this episode. We were incredibly fortunate to have the guidance of a medical advocate and Physician Assistant, whose expertise helped us ask the right questions, alongside my father’s cardiologist, who became a vital advocate from the outside.

His ICU course was marked by a grueling series of life-threatening complications. His COVID infection was treated with an anti-viral medication and steroids. Despite treatment his lungs were injured and collapsed, a chest tube had to be placed to help it re-expand. While he was in the hospital there was a concern for seizures and he was started on a seizure medication. Because of how sick he was, the team advised a tracheostomy (breathing tube) and gastrostomy (feeding tube) be placed- they didn’t think he would be able to breathe or eat on his own for awhile. After the surgeries there was another set back, the feeding tube had moved and became infected, which required another surgery. After being the hospital for weeks he had become weak and a nerve test confirmed he had a neuropathy from being critically ill.

The Transition to Rehabilitation

As he stabilized, we attempted to have my father transferred to a Long-Term Acute Care (LTAC) hospital for weaning, but his insurance would not approve it. At the time, this felt devastating, but it became a lesson in faith: God knows the best possible placement for each individual. On December 15, 2020, he was transferred to Four Seasons Nursing and Rehabilitation, still ventilator-dependent and unable to breathe on his own. To our relief, the respiratory staff weaned him quite efficiently, and the therapy team worked exceptionally well with him.

By early January, a swallow evaluation (FEES) was scheduled. As a Speech-Language Pathologist myself, I had a strong intuition that my father’s swallow was safe. I urged the facility SLP to move the testing forward so he could eat in honor of the Sabbath rather than waiting another week. She agreed, and we were overcome with gratitude when he was cleared to eat sooner than expected. By January 11, he was decannulated, finally regaining his natural voice.

This experience with insurance spurred my commitment to educating others. I now spread the word that, whenever possible, a Medicare Supplement is often more beneficial than a Medicare Advantage plan when it comes to rehab coverage.

The Return Home

My father was discharged on February 17, 2021. My sister recalls that upon arriving home, one of his first requests was for specific holy books. Despite owning thousands of volumes, he was able to specify exactly where each was located—a sign his sharp mind remained untouched.

Though he initially required a full-time aide, his progress was rapid; within two weeks, my mother was able to take over his care entirely. Further cardiac procedures in the spring of 2021—including a defibrillator placement at St. Francis and Mitraclips at NYU—stabilized his heart and addressed mitral regurgitation. By September 2021, he was successfully weaned off all seizure medication.

A New Chapter and a Calling

While the world had changed during his months away, my father’s passion for Torah study remained steadfast. He has returned to delivering lectures in a new capacity and continues to grace our family with his words at grandsons’ Bar Mitzvahs and his presence at his grandchildren’s weddings.

Witnessing my father's journey changed me as well. I realized that every patient needs a dedicated advocate, yet not every family is medically savvy. Inspired by the care we received and the guidance from Esther and the BINA team, I joined BINA Stroke & Brain Injury Assistance as a referral specialist and advocate. Today, I use the lessons learned from my father’s recovery to guide other families on their own paths toward healing.