My story of going through testicular cancer — a life changing experience, in progress

I was diagnosed with testicular cancer on 1 April 2022. Some kind of April fools’ joke life is playing on me, I guess. But hey, being a good sport, I decided to play along. In the end, what options did I have…? Also: is it coincidence that this happened on the first day of April, which is testicular cancer awareness month?

Cancer is scary! The moment you hear the word “cancer” from your medical professional, your life changes forever! At least, that’s what happened to me. I’m a pretty level headed guy, and it takes a lot to upset me. Also, I need time to think about stuff, and mostly, I don’t have a strong reaction at the first instance. But still, the moment the urologist told me it’s probably cancer, my head started to spin, I felt the rug was being pulled from underneath my feet (or chair, as it were, since I was sitting down, opposite the doctor). As time went by, I was dealing with what this diagnosis means, being in surgery in no time, then preparing for long term absence from work for getting chemo, I realised that a lot went on inside me, with my wife and kids, my extended family, work… I came to the conclusion that I wanted to write this down. For my own benefit, but maybe also for the benefit of you, the reader. Thus the blog format, where others can read, no matter if you know me or not. Thank you for taking the time to read this — I hope you find it of interest, and maybe it can help you or someone you know and care about, at least a little bit.

What will I be talking about? Here some points you may or may not have come across, be worrying about, want to read about:

• I had surgery.
• I opted not to get a prothesis.
• I had a port put into my chest. A small surgery, but not the most comfortable thing in the world, neither the procedure of having it inserted, nor having it in your chest under your skin. (Tip: If you’re a side sleeper and you’re given the choice, have the port put in on the side you’re NOT sleeping on normally!)
• Now I’m on chemo (attached to a drip as I sit here at my hospital room table, typing these words). Having poison pumped into my veins that I know will harm my body.
• I’m getting 4 cycles of EP instead of 3 cycles of BEP — I asked not to get the “B” (bleomycin), as I do triathlons.
• I am struggling with who I am, how I define myself. Example — one of many things I need to (at least temporarily) rethink about myself: I used to be physically strong. Not like a weightlifter, but rather handling all the physical things of everyday life, from loading the Ikea furniture into the car, to running back through the rain to the parked car because someone forgot something they need. Even when everyone was tired, and the dog needed to go for a walk, and it was cold and pouring with rain, I could always muster the extra strength required to withstand the elements and do the walk. That used to be part of who I was, my role in the family. Now I stand by while my wife loads bags of soil from the trolley into the car, since my surgery wound doesn’t allow me to help her, let alone do it for her. Who am I? What’s my role? Will they still love me the same? I know they do and they will — I’m a lucky man. But it’s a new normal I need to get used to
• How are my kids feeling about their dad being ill? Will they tell me or mum if they are struggling? How can I/we bst support them?
• How is my wife coping, worrying about her husband, with all the extra load of house work, responsibility, everyone constantly asking about me, giving well meaning tips and advice. What can I do to reduce the huge load she has to bear?

Today is the 3rd of May 2022. This is my story, as it develops. Nothing less and nothing more. I will try to be as open and honest as I can/dare. I’m writing this in the hope that it will help some other men out there, who are affected by the same fate. You are not alone! There are plenty of resources out there to help you, communities, support organisations and more! I’m trying to add a tiny bit by writing about my experience, what I’ve been (and am) going through. Maybe it helps you, maybe you can identify with some parts of it. Maybe you know someone who wants to read this — please share!

I am also writing to help me organise my thoughts and emotions, to come to terms with what is happening. On that first Friday in April of this year, a lot changed for me. I’m still chewing on it, as I’m sitting here in hospital, getting prepped for my second dose of chemo. I don’t know yet where this will go. I am confident that there will be a positive end to this, but of course, although this form of cancer is said to react very well to treatment (approx. 90–95% cure rate, doctors tell me), there is no guarantee for this. And even if I reach the point of being declared cancer-free, the journey to get there will most likely not be a pleasant one. I will try and share with you regularly what’s going on, how I feel, etc.

This is a very personal account. I’d be happy to hear your feedback (I hope Medium offers a comment/feedback functionality — I’m new to this platform). Please treat me and my writing with respect. I’m not asking you to agree with everything I say, but please don’t get personal.

And another caveat: I am NOT medically trained in any way! Any medical detail I mention is based purely on my perception of what I’m told by doctors and other medical staff, and (to a very limited degree) on what I read on official sites, in booklets etc. Everything I write is specific to my situation, which is likely to be very different from yours, and thus may apply only partially, or not at all, to your situation. Please keep this in mind as you read and reflect!