Zlatko Petrovic

Yesterday was a strange day. After months of odd symptoms, I finally got a diagnosis: lung cancer. Sitting in the sterile office, the doctor’s words echoed in my mind, bringing a bizarre sense of relief. It wasn’t the fear of death that gripped me—no, death has been a familiar companion, a shadow that’s always lurked nearby.

I’m 61 now, retired early, with a lot of time to reflect on the past. I often think back to my days as a soldier near Belgrade during the Kosovo war. We were stationed close to the chemical plants that NATO bombed. I remember one night in particular, a tank with 450 tons of vinyl chloride exploded. The sky filled with toxic gases, spreading across our land, contaminating the air and agriculture. The scent of death clung to everything.

Many of my friends and comrades have died of cancer over the years. I always suspected there was a connection between those bombs and our illnesses. I smoked briefly when I was young, but it never felt like that was the real cause.

Now, with this diagnosis, I feel a strange kind of peace. Certainty is a rare gift, and in some ways, it’s a relief to finally know. I’ve lived with the specter of death for so long that it feels almost like an old friend. What does scare me, though, is leaving things unresolved with my son. We haven’t spoken in years, and that estrangement weighs heavily on me. Before I go, I need to make peace with him.

I don’t fear the pain. I’ve faced so much in my life, what’s a little more? But the thought of dying with unfinished business—that’s what keeps me up at night. I want to say goodbye properly, to leave this world without regrets.

As I walked home from the hospital, the air felt different. Maybe it’s knowing that my time is limited, that every moment now carries a weight it didn’t before. Or perhaps it’s the understanding that this battle, the final one, is something I can face head-on. I hope for as little suffering as possible, but even if the pain comes, I’m ready. It’s just another part of life’s journey, another step toward whatever comes next.