In March 2017, I went for a scan at my local hospital.
The doctor said I was “in the early stages” of my disease.
He was wrong.
But as the months went by, he started to suspect something else: Something was seriously wrong.
I couldn’t sleep, I couldn´t eat or do anything.
After a few weeks of this, I asked the doctor why.
“I have some sort of tumour,” he said.
It took him about three months to realise that something was very wrong with my throat.
The problem wasn’t the cancer itself, but rather the way my body reacted to it.
As soon as it caught up with my body, it was unstoppable.
“If I’m not around, my throat is going to get infected and it’s going to cause bleeding and I´ll die,” he told me.
After his scan, he sent me a text message saying, “I know it´s not normal, but I just can´t give up”.
A month later, he got a call from a hospital.
It was my throat, it needed to be treated.
“It´s the throat,” he shouted at the receptionist.
I felt my stomach drop and my breathing slow.
I had no idea what was happening to me.
I was scared to go home because I knew what the next month would bring.
The first thing that I did was visit my doctor.
“He said I have cancer,” I said.
“What is cancer?” he asked.
I replied that I had a tumour.
“You have a tumor?” he repeated.
I said yes, but it wasn´t a tumorous tumour, it wasn`t even cancer.
“Oh, it´ll be like a lump or a lumpy tumour?” he said, referring to a lump on my tummy.
“But, no, it isn´t cancer,” said my throat doctor.
The cancer I had was very rare, but in my throat it was very common.
There are more than 200 different types of cancer, and each of them has a different prognosis.
“There is no cure for this type of cancer,” my throat surgeon told me in his office.
“We are just trying to figure out how to treat it,” he added.
When I asked if there was any hope for my throat being cured, he laughed.
“Not really,” he replied.
“Most of the time you die.
Most of the times it will be cancer.”
“There has to be a cure for cancer,” the doctor continued.
I told him I didn´t think there was.
It didn’t seem like a cure was a viable option.
My throat surgeon also warned me not to expect a quick cure.
“When you die, the cancer is going away, but that doesn´t mean that you will be cured,” he explained.
“Your body is just getting used to it.”
After the surgery, the surgeon told my throat team that he had to wait for the cancer to be removed.
The next month, we went to the hospital again.
This time, the doctor told me that the tumour was almost gone.
“OK, you have the tumor,” he confirmed.
I wasn´ve had no symptoms.
“This is a very rare tumour that causes bleeding,” he continued. “So I don´t expect to get it out any time soon.
It will take some time, maybe a few months.”
This time around, I was told that the cancer had spread to my chest.
“How long does it take for the tumours to grow?” he inquired.
I explained that I was just taking a blood test.
“That is normal,” he answered.
“A normal blood test is not going to detect a tumours tumour.”
He told me it was important to remember that I could have had a very different outcome if I had gone for an x-ray.
“The tumour is just one piece of tissue,” he stated.
“In other cases, it can be much larger, causing more bleeding.
It might not be a tumoured tumour but it is one piece.”
After waiting a few more weeks, he told us that the treatment was almost over.
He asked me to come home, and to go to my home.
“Thank you,” I replied.
I went home and waited for the doctor to tell me that my throat was in a good state.
He said that if he hadn´t known that I needed to go for a CT scan, I wouldn´t have gone for one.
But after two days, he decided to go ahead with the scan.
I asked him to stop the scan at once.
“Why?” he questioned.
“Because it is not a good idea,” he admitted.
“Just because I have a cancer doesn´ t mean that I will get cancer.
There is a risk of it getting