Let me tell you about one thing that happened when I found out that I was going to need a liver transplant to survive. It was eight years ago.

I decided to see a therapist. Just to sort of… double-check my state of mind. To see if there was something I was missing, or didn’t understand emotionally.

I told her: ”I have to find a way to deal with this without digging a hole for myself, or I will be terrible company for my wife and kids”.

The therapist looked at me, not trying to hide her reaction at all. She said: ”Meh.” In Swedish, that sort of means… ”but seriously, dude”.

She continued: ”Try this: You are about to go through something that potentially could kill you. Perhaps this is the time for your close ones to be there for YOU, not the other way around? Did that occur to you?”

Then I started to cry. Because it hadn’t occurred to me.

Now, getting really close to the transplant, I have actually learned to not carry everything. I let a group of my best people look after me. I call them ”The Care Conspiracy”.


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