My wife Lisa and I spoke in that particular brand of subdued tones reserved for those preparing to visit a loved one who has suffered a serious illness. On a sunny Saturday afternoon, I maneuvered our mini-van through the suburban streets of Rockland County, New York, and steeled myself for the scene we would encounter in a few minutes.

Two days earlier, Lisa's grandfather Boris underwent surgery to remove a tumor from his lung. He was ninety-eight at the time, and normally surgeons will not perform this type of surgery on a patient of such advanced age. In Boris' case, however, he was in such exceptional physical condition that the doctors believed the procedure was feasible.

The surgery was successful and Boris was recuperating in a rehab center. Despite the optimistic outcome, my mind conjured up images of Boris lying in bed intubated, and barely lucid, intravenous tubes invading his nostrils and veins. I had witnessed this nightmare before, first when my father was ravaged by leukemia, then when my grandmother lay comatose from a stroke.

Imagine my shock when we entered his room to see Boris sitting up in bed, attempting to put his shoes on. I would have been surprised enough to see him lying in bed without the aid of any life support or IV, but sitting up and attempting to leave the room?

Our elation over his condition, however, was soon tempered by our dismay over the squalor of his room. Feisty as ever, he relayed to us his unsuccessful attempts to persuade the staff to move him to a nicer room. The best he could elicit from them were half-hearted assurances that they would move him to a better room on Monday.

We had no doubts that Boris would have his new room on Monday, and we left the rehab center with our spirits buoyed over Boris' astonishing and quick recuperation. During the drive home, I turned to Lisa and said, "How silly of us to worry - if the Nazis couldn't kill him, what chance did lung cancer have?"

At that moment, the irony of his survival instincts struck me hard. He not only conquered a disease that would kill most at his age, years after enduring unspeakable suffering at the hands of the Nazis, but he has also undoubtedly outlived most, if not all, of his Nazi tormentors. I don't know if this is karma at work, or simply a lifetime habit of defying the absolute worst that life can offer. Either way, this was not the first or last time I marveled at this incredible man.