Allan´s Weblog

I always loved a good ride.

From my earliest years I was in love with practically everything on wheels. My old, wooden truck with white rubber wheels. My bicycle which was shining in red and chrome. The trains rattling along on the tracks very close to our house when I was a kid. Too close in somebody's opinion - but not in my opinion.

At the age of fifteen I had my own motorized mean of transportation and fun. A small motorcycle, which was altered so that it couldn't go faster than a certain speed - according to Danish law because of my young age. Need I mention that I was always handy with a tool when needed?

But all the time I longed for the day I would turn 18. At that time I would be able to drive for real. Big, warm wheels, powerful engines, highway.

My father had this great car that I loved as if it was my own. A car he willingly shared with me almost as much as I wanted. I just had to pay for my own gas plus half of the insurance - and everything was just set and dandy.



On the above photo (sorry about the lousy quality) you'll have the privilege (as if!) to see me with the great, old Volvo Amazon at four o'clock in the morning just before driving to Milano. My girlfriend at the time took the photo, after which she jumped in the car and we set off happily as only kids in love can be. I was 20 and she was 16. *sigh*

That was to be the first of several times that I crossed the Alps in that car.

Thanks to Nicolas who asked me for a photo of the car in this post. He is the one to hold responsible for getting me started on old memories this time.

I've just won the grand prize - and contrary to my previous post, this is the pure and simple truth.

Story goes like this:

For quite some time I've had a birthmark (well, maybe not quite a birthmark since it emerged a few years ago) on my forehead. A couple of months ago it began changing colour from brown to something darker - almost black at places. I kept an eye on it a while and decided to go to my GP with it. You know, a birthmark like that changing, should always ring a bell somewhere - as it did for me.

A thing like that can be a melanoma - birthmark-cancer. And that is most likely lethal if not taken care of in an early stage.

My doctor didn't have time to see me right on - had a long waiting list. I could probably have made him see me earlier if I insisted, but I didn't. I was sure it was nothing serious, since I didn't feel ill in any way. At that time I didn't know as much about melanomas as I do now - had I known what I now know, I surely would have rushed him to see me.

The time passed. A long time - till I finally saw my GP. The only thing he could say about it was, that since he was not an expert in these matters, all he could do was to lead me on to a dermatologist. And so he did.

New waiting list. Long. Now a couple of months had passed waiting for the right person.

Ten days ago I finally made it to the dermatologist. He looked at my mark, scratched his head and said he really didn't know. But he would set everything aside for me and make an immediate surgery. He would simply remove the thing here and now after which he would send it to a lab for analysis.

That was when I got it. Got IT, to be precise. This birthmark could very well be a melanoma. It had been there for years. It was changing.

I had been sure that he would look at it and say that it was all benign. But he didn't. He had a serious look in his face, asked me all kinds of questions. For how long had it been there? Did it feel strange in any way? Had I experienced other symptoms of cancer?

Other symptoms of cancer!

I felt like falling into a deep, black hole. I stared my death right in it's eyes. Was I going to die soon?

The dermatologist made an appointment for me ten days ahead, where I could have stitches removed and hear the result of the test. These ten days would prove to be ten days in a mental roller coaster. I wouldn't want my worst enemy to experience anything like it.

I drove home in a mental haze. At home I began searching the Internet for knowledge of this sort of cancer. And it all seemed like it was written to fit my situation.

What about my wife if I died now? Would I undergo severe suffering prior to my death? Radiation therapy? Surgery? Tumours in lungs, liver, kidneys, bones? These were the questions I asked myself again and again.

The days were tolerable because I had my job to attend to. Things to do, people to take care of.

But the nights! Oh, sweet Lord! Nothing more to be said. Imagine the worst and multiply with ten.

Today at 12:20 pm I got the results.

Age related changes of the characteristics of the skin. All benign - no traces of cancer at all.

I drove - no, I flew - home to Lise and told her. Then I went back to my job.

I could have won 20 million dollars today, and I wouldn't care one bit. Today I won my life back. I won years of smelling the grass in the morning. Watching the traffic. Enjoying the sunshine. Experiencing the seasons. The ordinary things - the smallest, yet the largest of things in life.

Do you know what I mean?

I breathe! I gorge in air!! Isn't that the best thing ever?

I am so happy that I don't have to kiss you all goodbye way too early.