First Christmas without my daughter: – Terribly painful

NØTTERØY (Dagbladet): – “Are you alone? Are you sitting?”, asked the doctor when he called me. It is one of the heaviest messages I have received. What do you do when you realize that your child is going to die?

Siv and Trond Hansen’s eyes go blank.

At home on Nøtterøy, the house is decorated for Christmas, and the parents are preparing for their first Christmas as a family of three. Last year, the four of them, both daughters, were at home. This year, only little sister Martine is coming home.

It is just over half a year since the parents lost their beloved daughter Camilla to cancer. On Friday 6 May, she fell asleep quietly at the Hospital in Vestfold, aged just 26.

– It is difficult and terribly painful to imagine a Christmas without Camilla, says mum Siv quietly from the sofa where her eldest daughter was seriously ill last autumn.

A strange mole

It was in June 2019 that Camilla discovered a mole on her back. She thought it was a little weird and decided to go to the doctor to have it checked out — completely unaware that the doctor’s visit would be the start of an endless nightmare.

Camilla had the mole removed and thought nothing more of it. In August, she received a letter from the doctor stating that it was malignant and that they had to remove a larger area around the mole. In addition, the doctors wanted to remove a couple of lymph nodes.

– It was a terrible message to receive. I feared the worst as soon as I heard the word “cancer”. But not long afterwards we got good news from the doctors: Camilla was cancer-free, says mum Siv.

Then, at the start of 2021, a new mole appeared. This time it wasn’t going to go so well. Camilla was diagnosed with malignant melanoma in the skin, the most serious form of skin cancer.

In May, she started immunotherapy. In July — when she was on holiday in Norway with her friends — she suddenly had a lot of pain in her shoulder and double vision in one eye. In September, the doctors discovered that the pain was coming from two tumours, one in the head and one in the neck. The cancer had also spread to the lungs, chest and liver.

The autumn was characterized by operations, medicines, immunotherapy, radiation and trips in and out of the Rikshospitalet, Radiumhospitalet, Lovisenberg Hospital and the Hospital in Vestfold. At the end of October, she moved out of the girls’ collective at Skillebekk in Oslo and home to her parents in Nøtterøy.

Trond is grateful for that today.

– She needed a lot of help and care when she was at her worst, and then it was a natural choice. I know it was difficult for Camilla to have to move back home — you’re not supposed to move in with your parents when you’re 26. But I still believe that it was safe and good – both for her and for us. Today I am very happy and grateful for the extra time we got together.

Siv smiles gently and nods at her husband.

– It really hurt my mother’s heart to see her lying on the sofa here, weekend after weekend, while others her age were out living life. At the same time, it was good to have her here with us, she adds.

“One to two days left”

In December, Camilla had a short stay at Radiumhospitalet, but was allowed to go home for Christmas.

Both parents smile when they think back to last year’s celebration.

The family knew it could be the last Christmas they all had together. Siv and Trond made the best of the situation — they invited the family to a Christmas party, cooked good food and enjoyed each other’s company. Camilla had a good period, they say. Everything was as nice as it could be.

On New Year’s Eve, Camilla was with her group of friends. The year started well, but suddenly Camilla became considerably worse.

The cancer had spread again, but Camilla did not lose hope.

– She was a real fighter who refused to give up. Hope was always there. In retrospect, I have realized that it was perhaps to keep our spirits up around her, says Trond.

Just after Easter, Camilla was admitted to hospital again, and Siv and Trond were called into a meeting room with the doctor at the hospital. There they received the heaviest message a mother and father can receive:

“Your daughter has one to two days left to live.”

– It was absolutely horrible. The steps I took after that conversation are the heaviest I have taken in my entire life, says father Trond.

– We joined when the doctor was going to tell her, and then she just answered with a calm “yes, well”. She realized it was over. We held her hand and she asked us not to cry. It was awful.

A tear rolls down his cheek as he looks over at Siv. She is blank in the eyes.

– Crying every day

A few days later, with her closest friends around her, Camilla took her last breath.

– One of them called us and said she thought it was coming to an end, says Siv.

The parents, who were sitting in a Café outside the hospital, threw away their coffee cups.

– We didn’t get there in time, she was already gone.

The group of friends have been inseparable since primary school, and Siv and Trond have had a close relationship with them for many years. They are grateful for the support their friends have shown – both during the period of illness and after Camilla died.

The time afterwards has been tough for friends and family.

– We still cry every single day, but try to take it one day at a time.

At home on Nøtterøy, Camilla is still present. There are pictures of her on the walls, and in the living room is the memory book from the funeral. On the second floor, her room is almost untouched, and the Christmas dress from last year hangs on a hanger among the other clothes.

– I haven’t managed to throw anything away yet, says mum Siv.

The parents are thinking extra about their daughter now in the dark times. They dread Christmas, but also try to look forward to creating new traditions where the family remembers Camilla.

– Last year was a nice Christmas, perhaps the nicest we’ve had. We know it will be tough to celebrate Christmas without her, but we will do our best to have a nice celebration anyway – not least for Martine’s part, says mum Siv.

Little sister Martine is familiar with the content of this case.

– Check yourself!

They remember Camilla as a caring and kind girl, as someone who stood up for the people and things she cared about. She was funny, fun-loving and positive, but could also be determined, say the parents.

Something Camilla was passionate about was openness. Throughout her illness, she openly shared on Instagram what it was like to be affected by cancer – and how important it is to check yourself.

This is exactly what the family wants to pass on:

– It is incredibly important to use sunscreen and check moles that change. It’s that simple and can save both you and those around you enormous pain.

The parents are touched and grateful for the network they have around them, and cannot praise the help they have received from the Norwegian healthcare system enough.

– We have had many rounds in and out of various hospitals in recent years and have had exclusively positive experiences. We are lucky to live in a country with such good healthcare. That makes the threshold for seeking help lower, says Siv.