Update: George Schöttl, a mesothelioma patient end of the line in Sweden, lost his battle against the cancer Wednesday, January 14, 2015. he was 46. This is the first installment of a two part series he wrote for Asbestos.com. We have the faith of his personal story can inspire hope and strength in others walk along the same road. Read the second part of Schöttl life beyond his diagnosis
It was early in 06. Life was great and going as planned. My new company, in its second year, has been extremely well. Everything was falling into place.
I'm about to marry Sara Svensson, my life partner, my true love, the one who always made me laugh. We had already talked about children, their names and buying a nice house ?? a farm with four wings in the country with ceilings painted in the late 1700s
The future looked so bright, but suddenly I had difficulty breathing.
It seemed that the air wasn 't reach my lungs. I continued to ignore the problem. I was still strong as an ox. We had to walk over a mile to the top of the Katrin mountain in Austria. I had some breathing problems there, but I blamed the high altitude.
You might have guessed that I would soon be diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma.
On the positive side, I 've lived more than nine years beyond my initial prognosis of 3-6 months. But recently, my health has worsened. I developed an infection in my abdominal cavity, tumors in my pleural wall are growing and I am now connected to the oxygen machine if I'm inside or outside.
These complications must clear before I can return to chemotherapy.
I'm not sure how much time I have, but I wanted to share my story with others experiencing similar situations with mesothelioma.
Post-Honeymoon problems
I contacted my doctor about breathing problems a few times. And I had problems with a gag reflex, too, but I'm constantly said that everything was OK. They continued to say that I had a virus. The doctor told me that all was well with my lungs, so I focused on the upcoming wedding and honeymoon.
We had a giant wedding in church with lots of friends. When my beloved Sara crossed the door of the church with his hand on his father's arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was so happy. The wedding party was Trolleholm, a Swedish castle. For the honeymoon, we went to Isla Margarita, off the northeast coast of Venezuela.
It was where I became more worried about my health.
My breathing got worse. Instead of enjoying the beautiful moon walk with my wife beloved romantic beach, it became an effort because I gasped. Whistling around your new wife was a little odd. I had the physique of an ox, but I do not feel good.
When we returned from the honeymoon, I went back to the doctor. His theory was that I was tired of working so hard. I finally went to a lung specialist who saw things differently. He found a lot of fluid around my lungs. He was amazed by what I was doing.
He told me to pack my bags and check in the hospital the next morning. Imagine me walking down the hall of the hospital ?? one, 253 pounds, the green-eyed man 6 feet tall with a beard. I probably looked like a bad football player.
I'm only 38 years old at the time. While I was walking in the hallway of the hospital, I saw that elderly people connected to tubes and machines. There was no one my age.
I introduced myself to the nurse and told her that I would be there shortly.
I was so wrong.
Stunned by the diagnosis
The first operation took place on the day I was admitted, and it was a test.
it involves the insertion of a drainage tube through my pleura (lining around the lungs) to empty all the liquid.
First, I had to kneel beside the bed because the doctor was a short woman who could not reach the area where the pipe is inserted. After much panting, pushing and muttering, she called in another doctor who was closer to my size. With all the force they could muster, they finally inserted the tube through the cartilage between my ribs and the pleura.
I did not utter a sound. The doctor asked me if it hurts. He said patients normally cry, but I told her scream would not be helpful. He shook his head and muttered something about Vikings.
In the coming days they drained an incredible 11.1 liters of fluid from my chest. They explained that my right lung was deep in the pleural space and compressed to the size of a tennis ball. Doctors performed laparoscopic surgery, also known as keyhole surgery, a biopsy.
He was 23 on the day that I was finally diagnosed. The tube was disconnected, and ME was escorted into another room. The doctor looked worried even before he broke the news to me.
I had malignant mesothelioma, a rare cancer. I'm not too worried at first, because I live in Sweden, where the rate of overall cancer survival for men and women is over 60 percent. We survival at the highest cancer worldwide. And the doctor said chemotherapy can prolong my life.
He realized that I did not take seriously the news, so he told me that the prognosis was poor. He also said that he had already spread through my chest, I'm the fourth stage, and that I should not count on many months of life. The doctor who performed the biopsy said I was full of tumors everywhere.
That's when it hit me.
Tell My Bride
How can I tell the person I was coming back home with our honeymoon I would die in a few months? How could I explain this to my family and friends? The doctor estimated 3-6 months of life and words echo in my head.
Sara, my beloved wife, entered the small room and the doctor repeated all over again. Then it came to me, the shock and pain of Sara give such a horrible wedding gift. All my life I have always solved problems. I'm the one that solves everything, much like the wolf in "Pulp Fiction." Now I was the problem. How can I fix this?
Dealing with mesothelioma
He was at the hospital where Sara began to guide me in the right way to think, to take one day at a time, one issue at a time. It is the only thing I should focus. That's how we have continued since then, with all the problems, injuries, all the surprises that followed us along the way. We took one day at a time, one problem at a time.
I decided not to be weak, not kneel to cancer. The only time I was on my knees when I proposed to my wife. She is the only one who could make me on my knees. No fucking cancer will do. I decided to stand, strong, stubborn and resist.
It seemed to work because I am diagnosed me in 06, and now it's 2015.
Mesothelioma Treatment
treatment did not go well at first. It took only a few days before I got sepsis (a potentially fatal infection spread through the bloodstream). He sent me to a clinic of infection for several weeks.
I had my first chemotherapy treatment in late January 07. It consisted of six rounds of Alimta and cisplatin. The Alimta was quite good and efficient. Cisplatin was an evil bastard who is really effective, but also a little mean to the kidneys and liver. Six rounds, I thought, was nothing. As a sailor once a Swedish warship, I thought I could deal with anything.
I was so wrong.
Before we found the right nausea drugs that worked on my body, I threw up like a calf. I vomited constantly and had to return to the hospital to get intravenous fluids. Zofran has worked as an anti-nausea drug. It changed my side effects to always have his head in the toilet for a more stable life as a cancer patient.
The treatment continued until a doctor has recommended I contact my family because I only had a few days to live. He said that my liver and kidneys were failing. But before I told anyone, they suddenly woke organs, and I was on my way home.
since I learned the difference between life and death can be determined by the doctor you have.
Then there was the question of swelling, a fairly common symptom in cancer patients receiving chemotherapy and cortisone. My swelling was not normal and continued to worsen. The doctors who took care of me turned pale when they saw how I had become swollen.
I gained a huge amount of weight. My hands, arms and legs were so filled with fluid that I could not bend. My skin seemed to buckle and crack when I moved.
That's when I knew I had hit bottom.
George Schöttl to Gardstange, Sweden, was diagnosed with malignant pleural mesothelioma in 06 to 38 years ?? a stunning revelation for someone so young and strong. He died January 14, 2015, shortly after Asbestos.com released this first person account of his journey. He was 46.
