It was a Friday morning, during the first month of my internship at Jerusalem’s Shaare Zedek Medical Center. I had been on duty the day before, and I was supposed to be on duty on Shabbat, too. At 9:30 A.M. I left the hospital and went home to sleep a little. But before I had even reached the Ramat Eshkol neighborhood, I heard the explosion. There were no cell phones at the time, so I continued toward home in...