Rabbi Ephraim Shor, Misdiagnosed with Cancer: "I Knew Hashem Was Sending Me a Strong Message"

Rabbi Ephraim Shor's story of being wrongfully diagnosed with cancer shows us that even doctors are human and can make diagnostic errors. A week after his hospitalization in the oncology department, doctors informed his wife: "Sorry, the diagnosis was incorrect. Your husband does not have cancer."

Rabbi Shor shares his story on the 'Aish HaTorah' website, in a touching column recounting his journey from the onset of his illness through the diagnosis and the realization that he does not have cancer. He explains that it was a bright day when he was cycling in the Jerusalem area as usual, and suddenly felt a sharp pain piercing his lower back. "For an active person like me who swims, rides mountain bikes, and does yoga regularly - I didn't think much of it. I showered and went to bed, but when I woke up the next morning, I felt terrible. I got out of bed and screamed as a strong spasm of pain shot through my lower back."

He describes it as an indescribable pain. "Hospitals use an unfair scale from one to ten, but my pain was at least an 11," he writes. "I collapsed onto the bed and saw stars. The feeling was similar to a pulled leg muscle but much more painful and relentless. I never imagined such pain was possible. Every smallest movement cost intolerable pain."

Being alone at home, he managed to call an ambulance, and from the moment it arrived, he recalls very little. "Although I didn't lose consciousness, the pain was so overwhelming that there was no room left in my mind for anything else. The only words I could utter between the groans of pain were, 'Can't do it, need pain relief now.' Thank Hashem my children weren't home to see this."

"I Was in Shock. I Didn't Think I Was the 'Cancer Type' - If There Is Such a Thing"

At the hospital, a series of tests were conducted to explain the acute pain, and the 'normal' suspicions were quickly dismissed. "After six days, the doctors sat me down with my family and carefully said, 'We suspect you have multiple myeloma, a blood cancer.' They warned us not to Google it, and shortly after, I was transferred to the oncology department—where I finally received the massive amounts of pain relief I needed."

With the medications making the pain slightly more bearable, Rabbi Shor finally had the presence of mind to think about the new situation in his life and come to terms with it. But it took time, and initially, the situation surprised and even disappointed him. "I was in shock," he recalls. "I didn't think I was the 'cancer type'—if there is such a thing. I am fit, eat healthy, and as someone who never rests—cancer never crossed my mind as something that could catch up with me. It's unbelievable how wrong I was."

At this point, Rabbi Shor describes his feelings two weeks before the diagnosis, when he attended the funeral of a friend who died from cancer—three weeks after his own diagnosis. "The thought filled my heart, but the reduction in pain was so comforting that I couldn't help but feel a certain relief."

There, from the hospital bed, Rabbi Shor looked at his life and possible death—from a new and strange perspective. "Part of me wanted to sink into the comfort of leaving the pain and hardships of life behind," he shares with sadness, referring mainly to the part of him that was struck by fatigue from the illness and pain he experienced. But upon deeper reflection on life and its beauty, gazing out the hospital window at the beauty of the mountains and trees—it stirred a desire in him to paint. "I don't know how to paint, and I know it sounds a bit cliche, but for me, it was significant. Right there, I suddenly felt the inner majesty and meaning of everything surrounding me—and I didn't want to die."

"I Knew Hashem Was Sending Me a Strong Message, Brutal in Its Honesty"

In those moments, Rabbi Shor thought to himself that if he were only given another chance to return to his normal life—he wouldn't let himself sink into materialism and forget the true purposes of this world. If only he wouldn't get lost in the web of means leading to those purposes. "I knew Hashem was sending me a strong message, brutal in its honesty. Self-reflection is challenging—but I had to pause and do it. I felt I had to find meaning in my illness and understand how it's supposed to change my life."

The first word that popped into his mind when he thought about it was 'hysteria,' and that's exactly how he lived before the illness broke out. "As an ambitious and driven person at work, married with nine children—my life was a constant whirlwind of rushing from one task to another, and in all this rush—it seemed I missed the essence. Life isn't just supposed to be 'do everything to get everything done.' A mad rush to the finish line."

From this "unwillingness to take a deep breath, to pull the periscope from the depths of this hysteria," the realization grew in him that what he really needed was "to constantly remember the meaning and joy inherent in all existence. Because it's much easier to get tangled up in life's pursuits than to make a sustained effort and choose to focus on love and the real experience, and embrace life wholeheartedly. And every ill person struggling for their life proves just how true this is. No one would survive such a fierce struggle if they weren't deeply aware of the infinite value of life itself."

For several days, he lingered in this realization until, after a week in the ward alongside head injury victims and others—the unimaginable happened. "The doctors came into my room and informed me and my wife that the diagnosis was incorrect and I don't have myeloma!"

"The Horrible Weeks in the Hospital Taught Me a Lot About Myself"

When it turned out he was suffering from inflammation in his spine that could be treated with large amounts of antibiotics over time, no one was happier than him on earth. "It's impossible to describe the wave of relief that washed over me. I felt my life was given back to me, and this wasn't a science fiction movie, but my life. Looking back on this experience, while still taking small doses of morphine—I feel that Hashem gave me one of the most wonderful gifts imaginable: the verdict was canceled, and my life returned to me. I was saved.

"A new beginning. All the upsides of a terminal illness without actually having to go through it. It's a journey worth much more than a vacation in Tahiti. Those horrible weeks in the hospital taught me a lot about myself, and from now on—I will stop to savor the beauty in each day, continue to be deeply grateful to my wife, be more patient with the children, spend more time with them and truly enjoy them, invest in prayer, remember that I'm actually talking to the Creator of the Universe and ask him to help me enjoy my day. I'll smile at the cashier and dance with joy at having a meaningful job that contributes to Jews and Israel. 

"Okay, I'm still human. All this probably won't happen immediately, but I hope some of it sticks. Not just hope—I plan, with Hashem's help, to work on it hard. I'm happy the pain is subsiding day by day, and I'm savoring simple actions like brushing my teeth and getting dressed by myself. This is a battle for sanity, and I'm back in the arena."