“It all began 11 years ago,” Charlie Zablotsky related. “At the time, I lived in Norwich, Connecticut, and often traveled to New York. One time when I was in the city, a Lubavitcher friend asked me if I wanted to daven at the Rebbe’s shul.

“Even though I wasn’t observant at the time, I agreed. We went to 770 and davened in the shul upstairs. This was my first exposure to the Rebbe. Afterwards, we repeated the experience several times.

“One day in the middle of summer, my wife found a growth on my neck. I immediately went to a doctor friend of mine, who took a biopsy and sent it to the lab. As soon as the results came back, my friend called me. His words were brief and to the point. ‘It’s no good. Malignant melanoma.’

“To help determine the best course of treatment, my friend sent me to Yale Hospital in New Haven. After looking at the X-rays and doing their own tests, the specialists recommended radical neck surgery. They wanted to remove all the tissue on the right side of my neck, including the muscles that hold my head up. When the doctor and I heard their suggestion, we decided to get a second opinion, and so I traveled to Columbia Presbyterian in New York. After another series of tests, Columbia’s doctors recommended the same thing: radical neck surgery.

“While I was staying in New York, I visited 770 with my chassidic friend. ‘Before you do anything,’ he told me, ‘write to the Rebbe.’ So I told him the facts and he wrote them down and mailed the letter. By the time I got back to my hotel in Manhattan, there was an answer. The Rebbe said: ‘Let a friend who is a doctor decide.’

“I was a little surprised. First of all, I never told the Rebbe that I had a doctor who was my friend. Second of all, I had just been to some of the biggest specialists I could find. Still, when the Rebbe says something, you listen.

“I asked my family doctor. He said: ‘In my opinion, you don’t need that kind of surgery.’ He performed the operation himself, removing the entire growth. My cancer was gone.

“Unfortunately, my good health didn’t last. A year later, I got sick again. This time, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, an illness that causes perforations and bleeding in the intestines. Soon, I was receiving blood transfusions three times a week to replace the blood I was losing. I was so weak that I couldn’t even drive.

“To save my life, the doctors scheduled surgery to remove the destroyed intestines. During the pre-surgery testing, they had performed a coloscopy, an MRI and a CAT scan. The tests revealed massive scarring, and showed that even the scar tissue had holes in it. To make matters worse, they found a large black mass that looked suspiciously like a tumor.

“During the week in which I was scheduled for surgery, my wife and I decided to ask the Rebbe for a blessing. With the help of my Lubavitch friend, we got in line with one of my sons, who was then 12.

“My son went first. The Rebbe looked at him and said: ‘Here’s a dollar for you and a dollar for your father, refuah shelaimah (“May he have a complete recovery”).’

“No one had told the Rebbe who my son was.

“My Lubavitch friend was next in line. He told the Rebbe: ‘My friend is sick, he’s going through surgery.’ A moment later, I was standing before the Rebbe. I had been to him for dollars before, but had never experienced anything like what happened next. The Rebbe looked at me and gave me a dollar, along with a blessing for a refuah shelaimah. Then he added, almost as an order: ‘It should be a fast and complete one.’ While saying this, he made a fist with his right hand, raised it and drew it down.

“The whole episode was very startling, even to the chassidim around me. But that’s not all. As the Rebbe moved his hand, I felt a burning sensation from my esophagus down to my stomach. I almost collapsed right there.

“Several days later, I went to surgery. My brother is a doctor, and as soon as the surgery was over, he asked for a lab report. Everyone expected the surgeons to remove yards of destroyed intestine, but they only took out 18 inches!

“‘There must be some mistake!’ my brother protested, but the doctors assured him that there was no mistake; they could only find 18 inches of damaged tissue! What’s more, the dark object they thought was a tumor turned out to be only a mass of dried blood.

“After surgery, they wheeled me back to my room. When I woke up from the anesthesia, the doctors came in and told me the results. Then they asked: ‘What do you want to do?’ I said that I wanted to walk. The nurse helped me get to my feet, and I walked from the bed to the bathroom. The doctors were incredulous.

“Three days after the surgery, I wanted to wash my own feet. The doctor who was in the room laughed and said: ‘Whenever you’re ready.’ After all, I had an incision several inches long down my belly.

“The doctor watched in absolute amazement as I stood and lifted my feet up to the sink and proceeded to wash them. He shook his head. ‘This is unbelievable.’

“But I knew it wasn’t. It was the Rebbe’s blessing.”