Why Blogging Hasn’t Been A Priority For Me Lately, And Likely Won’t Be For A While

Life’s funny sometimes. One moment, you feel like you are on top of the world. The next, the whole world comes crashing down before your very eyes.

My wife had not been feeling well for a while. Tired and nauseous, she thought she was either ill or pregnant. When both the blood test and pregnancy tests indicated she was neither, she thought it might just be looking-after-five-kids-itis. Or depression. Or just going crazy.

Then last week, she felt pains in her lower abdomen and experienced spotting. After visiting the gynecologist who saw something worrying, she was sent to hospital where the CT scan suggested tumors in her ovaries and even beyond. Still, cancer could not be confirmed until she was gutted like a fish during surgery late last week.

When the surgeon first came to update me on the surgery, the news was bleak: it was cancer, and while he removed what he could (which included my wife’s ovaries, cervix and omentum), what seemed to be a tumor remained behind her liver and beyond the reach of his scalpel. In other words, the cancer had spread and it was still there.

After leaving the room and giving my tear ducts a good workout, I returned to my wife’s side and looked down at my sleeping beauty, wondering how we were going to get through this. Some minutes later, the surgeon came back in, the look on his face not nearly as glum as it had been when he broke the news to me about twenty minutes earlier. He then proceeded to explain that he approached an expert colleague, who looked over the CT scan, and could say with 100% certainty that the growth behind my wife’s liver was not a tumor after all.

In the space of those twenty minutes, stage 4 ovarian cancer had become stage 3 ovarian cancer, and my wife’s prognosis became a lot better. This now meant that there were no remaining visible signs of cancer, although the reality of months of chemotherapy still await us.

I won’t bore you with details of the 4 days I remained by my wife’s side in hospital and reminded myself what it’s like to sleep on a chair and on the floor (clue: it’s no picnic). What is important is we see light at the end of the tunnel, even though we are aware the chemo train is coming to meet us head on.

As I write this post, my wife is set to leave the hospital on the morrow, and we brace ourselves for the tough road that lies ahead. But we are so very grateful to have a road ahead, and know our family and friends are there to help us reach our destination.

56 thoughts on “Why Blogging Hasn’t Been A Priority For Me Lately, And Likely Won’t Be For A While”

    1. This. I’m sorry, Dave, my wordiness serves for the smoke and mirrors of politics, but for the things that matter, not so much. What Phil said, then.

  1. I’ve been following you on Twitter for a few years now. I wish your wife a refuah shelema and all the best for you and your family. Please keep us all updated.

  2. Thank you for telling the whole story. No doubt you will be saving other lives. My the Holy One, Blessed Be He, grant both you and your lovely wife 120 years of good health, happiness and nachas from your adorable children.

  3. As a cancer survivor I know how important it is to know that you are loved and that people are pulling for you. Dave, you and your family are in my thoughts. All the best to you in the days ahead.

  4. I am keeping your wife in my tefilot and I know she is in the tefilot of many other people. (I received a chain email asking for tefilot for her which seems to have gone right round Israel already).

    I wish you the strength to carry on supporting your wife and children during this very difficult time. I’m sure you know we’re all rooting for you and praying as hard as we can.

  5. Been following you for a long time. Will include your wife in my prayers. Praying also for an end to all suffering. Good luck.

  6. My tefilot and the tefilot of my wife are with you and yours. I have spent extended time with my wife in the hospital (albeit with a more positive condition) and it isn’t terribly fun. May you be blessed with good health, with massive support for the family, and with as quick a positive resolution as possible. Refuah Shelaima.

  7. …adding my thoughts and prayers.

    May the merit of the good that you do in this blog for truth, justice and Israel contribute to her complete and speedy recovery.

  8. Right now, I am going through the period of yahrzeit for my parents, both of whom died of cancer. May your wife attain a full recovery and live long and happy.

  9. Wishing Mrs. Aussie Dave a refuah sheleima.

    May she (and you) have much naches from the great-grandchildren.

    I will keep her in my prayers.

  10. Shirley and Michael Fine

    Sending Erika, David, the children and ALL family heartfelt love & KOYACH Continue being strong David.
    We are praying constantly and thinking of you all.
    Am in close touch with Mum, she’s coping.
    Lotsa love to EVERYONE
    XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

  11. Dave, my heart goes out to you and your family. I will be praying for your wife and will also ask my daughter’s class to pray for her as well. I wish Mrs. Aussie Dave refuah Sheleima. I hope that we will be celebrating her full remission in the very near future. Be strong……

  12. Dear Dave and Erika,
    Wishing you a refuah shelema.
    From personal experience, the nice thing about these cancers (I should probably say, the only nice thing), is that while you are battling it, it does take over your life, the routine becomes about doctors’ appointments, medications etc; but then it’s over, and it’s springtime, mostly everything regenerates and life returns to normal. This time next year, it will all be in the past, and it really does go quite quickly.
    Just a quick word of advise, though it probably has been mentioned, being Israel – given your wife’s young age, consider checking if she could have genetic testing. This helps assessing risk, for her (breast cancer risk) and her family members. Wishing you a speedy recovery.

  13. In 1976 my mother died of ovarian cancer at age 51. In 2001 my sister beat stage 4 ovarian cancer (at age 49). Nothing is more important then health and I pray that your wife has a complete recovery.

  14. Adam Schogger

    Refuah shlema. I’ve worked in oncology. It’s going to be a very hard time, no mistakes, but the prognosis is certainly not hopeless.
    wishing you all the best.

    What is your wife’s Hebrew name?

  15. My neighbor was diagnosed with ovarian cancer last March. There were some tough months but today she is cancer-free. It wasn’t simple but with today’s medical advances, things look good. Refuah Shlemah.

  16. Wishing Erika bat Chava Ita a refuah shelemah. You and the whole family are in my prayers.

    Might an air mattress or camping pad help out on the nights you’re sleeping on the hospital floor? Just a thought.

  17. Ruth Nicholls

    I will continue praying for your wife for full healing from the cancer and the surgery. Our Father is merciful. God bless you for the work you do.

  18. Dave, just ask if you need anything; we’re happy to help. If it’s hot in the house and you need to have your fan fixed…let me know. Need meals, or whatever, don’t be shy – !

  19. Dave, I am thinking and praying for your wife and your entire family. I’m familiar with chemo, so I wanted to let you know a couple of things that I found through experience were helpful.

    (1) Good (and unfortunately, expensive) sunglasses might be important b/c chemo increases one’s sensitivity to light. I’ve always worn inexpensive sunglasses (but polarized, etc) and I literally couldn’t go outdoors until I decided to try a “better” pair. They made all the difference.

    (2) Online and probably BAM pilot stores sell an anti-nausea wristband that uses electric current within the band, which goes around your wrist (there’s an accupressure point on the inside wrist). It sounds crazy and maybe dangerous (it’s not) but it was at least mildly helpful, especially in the first hour or two. I found that two or three ‘mildly helpful’ things used together equaled a big improvement.

    (3) the drug Emend is extremely helpful for nausea, much more so than anything else. I hope her doctor will prescribe it.

    (4) walking and any sort of back=and=forth motion (ie. rocking chair) was less nauseating than lying or sitting still.

    (5) for some reason, I could drink mildly salty lassi (a yogurt-based Indian drink) when nothing else would stay down.

    (6) I read lots of advice to shave my head before my hair fell out, but I was happy I didn’t. It fell out slowly enough so that if I wore a cap or hat, I looked ‘normal’, which I liked.

    I hope some of these are helpful. Sending prayers from Boston, A.

  20. I sincerely miss Erika on twitter and want to express my best wishes to her and to you for a refuah shleima. As you know, the road ahead is difficult and your strength and positivity will carry you through. You are both in our tefilot.
    Estee

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