My friend Ida was slowly recovering from a heart attack. "Doctor," she pleaded with her cardiologist, "you must keep me alive for the next two years. I want to attend my first grandchild's Bar Mitzvah."
"We'll try," he replied compassionately.
In due course Ida gratefully attended the festive rite of passage.
Some time later she again spoke to her doctor. "My granddaughter is to be married in 18 months. Please help me to be able to attend her wedding."