My life began when they declared it to be over.

I should have been dead by now. I was given this and the statistics, at least. Exactly two years ago, almost to the day, I visited a doctor's room at Karolinska Hospital, a little distance from here, on a day that would permanently alter the course of my life. And that was me. I was in the best shape of my life at the time; I had big aspirations to raise my own family, a flourishing profession working in the health and fitness industry, a job I loved, and I was also starting a second business on the flip side of my primary business. I was inspired to continue growing and developing that year. Life was beginning to make sense. I also spent every day in the gym for personal development while coaching group training for at least 10 hours per week, including late nights and early mornings. As you might imagine, I had no desire to slow down or otherwise stop what was happening in my life. I adored enthusiasm and determination and experienced a powerful, healthy, and joyful feeling. It seemed as though nothing would deter me. I thought I was invincible. I had no idea that life had other plans for me. even though I was leading a wonderful life, I soon realised that I wasn't always in the present. I was constantly on the go, nearly always stressed, eager to improve myself and set new goals, and well-prepared. I never felt completely content in the here and now, although I did value my accomplishments greatly in all spheres of life. Life was a continuous race, and I expected to win and do well in whatever I did. I had been struggling with a bothersome cough for approximately a year before this time when I was feeling particularly alive. I felt wonderful, save for the cough, so I didn't give it any thought. I speculated that it might be vocal cord irritation because I often use my voice when leading group training sessions, pushing participants to the limit, or something similar to asthma. However, my family advised me to be checked out because my cough worsened. To determine the cause, I underwent a series of difficult tests over six months. Spirometry, gastroscopy, and PET scans are a few examples. Finally, I received a letter from the hospital informing me of my next doctor's visit. It was March 2020, and I was finally about to understand what was happening in my lungs. This day still seems like it was yesterday in my memory. I recall feeling fairly peaceful and comfortable despite being there—I found myself in a cold, light doctor's office at Karolinska—because I felt strong and healthy. So, how significant could it possibly be? The pandemic at the time prevented my family from visiting the hospital, so it only included me and the physician in that room. I can still clearly recall his exact words: "We discovered a huge malignant of 20 centimetres in your correct lung. You're going to have to undergo an extensive procedure to remove the tumour, but you'll also have to eliminate a great deal of your lung." Time halted. At that instant, the Earth was motionless. I had a hard time understanding what he was about to say. But that wasn't all; he also informed me that my lung cancer was metastatic, an incurable form that had begun to spread to the other lung and that there was absolutely nothing that could be done to treat it or prolong my life. He informed me that the prognosis for my condition was poor and that we didn't even know whether I would survive that year based on statistics. I was stunned. I was hardly able to breathe, think, or even respond. After a while, my doctor's comments finally hit home, and I was crushed. I recall weeping so hard because I couldn't stop. As I struggled to breathe, my physician tried to ease me down. Even the prospect of my short, anticipated stay on Earth was too much. This was it? Was this the best I could do? I mean, my life wasn't over. My life seemed to be just getting started. One of the toughest things I've ever had to do was later that afternoon when I was forced to pick up a cell phone from the medical facility to contact my family and break the news to them. I also started receiving palliative care that day, which is medical care that is given to prolong life when a person is nearing the end of their life. I was 32 years old, a former top athlete in outstanding physical condition, and never smoked. I chose for myself after sobbing uncontrollably for days, weeks, and even some days when I didn't even get out of bed. I had two options: I could stay on this bleak and hopeless path that would eventually lead to my demise, or I could decide to live my life now with fewer worries and gloom, along with greater love and light. I went with the latter. So, after making that choice, I began the biggest trip of my existence, and the year that followed was the hardest and most trying I've ever experienced. However, those were also my best years ever. And I've been through a lot of changes, both psychologically and physically. I, therefore, began what I like to refer to as my healing path and inner work on that day. I persisted in working on my fitness; I frequented the gym four to five times per week, concentrating on heavy lifting, and I followed a strict and healthy diet, abstaining from sugar, processed foods, red meat, and alcohol. I also ate many vegetables daily, and broccoli, zucchini, and turmeric became two of my favourite foods. I began to transform on the inside thanks to meditation, helpful resources like a spiritual coach, and, most of all, thanks to my tenacious resolve to live. I began concentrating on opportunities rather than challenges. I discovered strategies for overcoming my concerns and discovered how to take control of my life rather than letting a condition define it for me. My poor days eventually became excellent and then amazing. I discovered how to accept the challenges life had been throwing at me and to rest in my completeness. And I discovered how to live in the present and express gratitude daily. And I discovered how to truly appreciate myself without needing to perform or accomplish anything. And I understood that living life to the fullest is the only way to succeed. And yet the most common misunderstanding is that time is on our side. The only thing we have or will ever have is right now, in this now, and learning how to be present in every aspect of life is how you truly triumph. Regardless of how carefully we plan, no one can influence what happens in life, the difficulties we could encounter, or how long we will live. However, we can decide how we respond to these difficulties. I want you to think about how you spend your life right now. Would you make any changes if you knew you only had a few months left to live? What are you anticipating if your response is yes? There is rarely a perfect or appropriate moment to make significant adjustments in one's life. We all understand that day might never arrive. So, live with a heart full of peace, love, and thankfulness. Every day, tell your kids you love them. Being kind to yourself, loving yourself, and choosing the life you'd like to live and pursuing it is all important. I have done every form of chemotherapy and am currently engaged in my second initial phase trial at Karolinska. I have also been receiving what they term a cancer vaccine for the past eight months. And I've realised that even though my journal still refers to my condition as having "incurable lung cancer," I'm no longer terrified. My joy for life far outweighs my fear of death. I'm not battling, fighting, or trying to survive. I'm still here. Living. And to be completely honest, I have no idea how my medical care will progress. I'm unsure of how long I'll live. I have no idea how long it will be—one year, ten years, fifty years—but then once more, all of us do. I should have been dead by now. I'm not, though. I truly am alive. I'm standing in the middle of you, inhaling with my one lung as my heart beats quickly from anxiety and adrenaline. I enjoy every feeling in this magnificent life, including the ability to laugh and love. I get to share this experience with you. Right now. As of right now. Furthermore, how we decide to conduct our lives while we remain here is more important than how long you or I will live. I'll leave you with this: Don't wait for another second. Now is the time to live, so do it. I'm grateful.