It all started around 1st November 2000. My tonsils were swollen and I waited for them to get better for about a week. Finally, I went to the doctor who believed it was a virus, and he wanted me to go through an antibiotics treatment, which I took for a week. The swollen tonsils disappeared quickly, but after a couple of days something else was wrong. This time a wisdom tooth was playing up and a week went by before it was taken out. During this time I had been taking a lot of painkillers, Ibuprofen and not always according to the instructions. Often on an empty stomach and with only a mouthful of water, well aware that it can cause gastric ulcer etc.

The tooth came out and immediately I felt a lot better. Now everything was ok. But no. After a couple of days I started to have stomach pains when eating. It was a burning sensation and it could almost knock the breath out of me, especially when swallowing the first bites of food. Drinking was never a problem, but eating hurt pretty much.

I waited about a week before I went to see the doctor. I thought I'd had a gastric ulcer, due to the above-mentioned painkillers and I expected he'd give me something that would neutralize the gastric juice. He didn't. He would rather wait and see for another week or so and if I didn't feel better I should come back and see him.

The week went by and I ate less and less due to the pain so I started loosing weight. I knocked on his door again and got a prescription for Lanzo, which neutralizes the gastric juice enabling the ulcer to heal. He said I should notice an improvement within a couple of days. The days went by and it didn't get any better. I kept eating too little and my weight kept going down. After taking the pills for a week I called the doctor and said I wanted a gastroscopy - an examination of the gullet and stomach with a telescope. I wanted to know what was causing the pain and discomfort when I was eating. He referred med to Diakonissen, a specialist center, where I got an appointment shortly after.

The gastroscopy was very unpleasant and because of my strong vomiting reflexes it was impossible for the surgeon to take a tissue sample. But I found out: There was an ulcer. A big one at that, so the doctor thought I should go to Rigshospitalet urgently and have a gastroscopy done there, as they could give me some Stesolid to subdue the strong reflexes so they would be able to take some proper tissue samples.

I got an appointment already after a couple of days. After having eaten only 1/3 of what I normally eat for 3-4 weeks and having lost 7-8 kg, I finally got an answer…and some answer. I showed up in the morning, fasting and in a pretty good mood. I was looking forward to having a diagnose and starting a treatment so I could make up for a long period of lacking food and energy. The surgeon who would do the gastroscopy was a nice guy. I told him that I suspected that Ibuprofen was responsible for an ulcer somewhere in the gullet or the stomach. He thought that sounded very reasonable so they would take a look. I was given some Stesolid and they went to work. Next thing I remember is him saying: "Wow, that's big". With a telescope down your throat you can't answer or ask questions, but I started to pay a lot more attention to what they were saying. And when he said: "This must be sent for freezing", I knew something was terribly wrong. Due to my training, I know that "freezing" is a quick way of examining tissue to see if it contains cancer cells.

Perhaps I was just being naïve, perhaps I just didn't want to understand the truth, but I didn't get nervous quite yet. Not really. Perhaps it just looked like cancer and then I suppose they HAVE to do a freeze? The surgeon got hold of another doctor who was an expert on ultrasound gastroscopy. I had barely had one tube pulled out before they put another one down and did this internal ultrasound. This surgeon didn't talk much so I didn't get nervous. I remember thinking "They'll want to be sure there isn't "something" there". The tube was pulled out and I was taken into a resting room. A nice nurse was talking to me and said that nothing had been decided yet; they were still waiting for the results from the "freeze", so I should just take it easy.

After about 10 minutes the first surgeon came in and sat down in front of me. Unfortunately, he had to inform me that the tissue had contained cancer cells and that what we were looking at was probably a lymphoma or a small cellular cancer. There would be no operation. From then on I don't remember much, other than asking him what the prognosis looked like. "It's good", was his answer. I think I will remember those 3 words for the rest of my life….

After that things went quickly. He booked me an appointment for a CT-scan, which I got immediately. They scanned me from the neck down to the testicles. Nothing uncomfortable, just thoughts that started popping up while I was lying in the tube without moving. After that, off to have blood tests taken. Back at the ward the nurse told me that the doctor had talked to an oncologist about coming to talk to me later in the day. So I had a couple of hours to kill.

I went outside and looked up into the sky. By the way, it was pouring down that day. I enjoyed feeling the wind in my face; I needed to be aired through thoroughly. I went back and forth for 45 minutes; several times I could feel the tears in my eyes. But I didn't WANT to cry…not yet. There were still some things to take care of.

I called the ward where I work and asked if the head nurse was there. She was, so I went up there straight away, closed the door to her office and told her everything. That I had cancer and therefore would have sick leave for an indefinite period of time. Here too I could feel the tears in my eyes every time the word "cancer" came out of my mouth. The head nurse was really nice and said that I would get through this. We talked a bit and I said that if the rest of the staff started asking questions, she should be honest and just tell them how it is. I would come back and talk to them at a later stage when I knew a bit more.

When I returned, the oncologist was on his way. That is, both an oncologist and a haematologist, whose area of expertise is lymphatic cancer. I only spoke to him as they believed that that was what was I had. We found a room and he started informing me. I said from the beginning that I wanted all cards on the table…and that they should be open about it. I wanted to know 100% what I was dealing with. He accepted that and I remember quite a bit of what he said. Probably because I was taking notes at the same time. First of all they didn't know exactly what type of cancer it was, more tissue samples and examinations would give the answer to that. But everything was pointing towards lymphatic cancer and the good news was that that can be cured 100%.

I asked about my chances. He said fifty-fifty, but the statistic shows that most of the older people die and most of the young people survive. So my age was an advantage. Was it discovered early enough? That was another question. On the CT-scan they had found swollen lymphatic nodes in the stomach area and one side of the stomach was enlarged. And then there was the 12 cm. long ulcer in my gullet. It's already on stage 3 or 4, and even I knew that the sooner the cancer is discovered the better the chances for being cured are. So this was not so good. But at least it had been discovered. And he did say fifty-fifty, with bigger chances because of my age. We talked back and forth, a bit about chemotherapy and the plan for next week, where I'll be having another gastroscopy, an ear-nose-throat examination, more blood tests and a bone marrow biopsy.

So it was with this "U-turn" in my life that I left the hospital and called my parents. Luckily they were home and I could visit them. My mom picked me up at Roskilde Station and she asked me a couple of times what they had found out. I avoided answering her, with the tears not too far away, and said that I would wait until we got home.

We had hardly gotten inside and mom and dad sat down before I broke down. "I have cancer", was the only thing I could stutter. But what a relief finally being able to cry. At the same time I felt so sorry for my parents, I wish I could spare them from having a son who's that ill. After more tears from all three, I mustered enough strength to tell some more. We talked about it a bit and the conclusion was: "that we'll get over this together"…and I believe that!!! Later I went to my sister's to give her the bad news. More tears but also joy in seeing my lovely 4-year-old niece again. Once again we reached the same conclusion: "We'll get over it"…and so we will!!!

Mom and dad drove me all the way home. I wanted to be alone. I felt an enormous need to surf on the Internet to gather as much information as possible. Strange, considering I only got the diagnosis 12 hours earlier.