I died a weekend in 2005. I was out with my friends, and halfway through a go-cart race, my head suddenly dropped down on the steering wheel, and I crashed…
I died a weekend in 2005.
I was out with my friends, and halfway through a go-cart race, my head suddenly dropped down on the steering wheel, and I crashed into the tires that encircled the track. I had stopped breathing; I had no pulse and my friends immediately started resuscitation.
At the hospital, I was put on a medical ventilator and they cooled down my body temperature to 30 degrees until the following Tuesday. Then I woke up and slowly came round.
The next day, I was moved to a larger hospital in Odense, where I was in the Coronary Care Unit. From there I could see the red rooftops of the ward where they treat patients with cancer – and I really loved my own situation.
I was alive. I did not have cancer. I was just tired. But I was able to enjoy even the smallest things in a positive way.
I was treated well – the nurses and doctors were sweet and friendly. And I was alive and I would soon be able to get back home to my lovely wife and my two daughters.
But then problems arose when the doctors discovered, that my coronary arteries were completely blocked. Strange. I had been a professional football-player, and I have never been smoking. So I had a Quintuple bypass operation. Five of the coronary arteries were bypassed.
Before I could go back home I got infections and had to stay longer in hospital. Finally I could return home after a 32 days stay at different hospitals.
Since then I have been living in the present moment.
We have bought a caravan, we travel to Southern Europe, we play golf, we have fun with our daughters, and we are always trying to be positive. I am trying to get the best out of every situation. It can be difficult sometimes, but it is worth fighting for.
No one can take away my life.
And on my mobile I have this Dire Straits song as a ringtone:
‘There’s just a song in all the trouble and the strife. You do the walk, you do the walk of life … ‘
Hans Peter, 61