I was asked to write something for Movember a couple of years ago, they wanted something positive... they should have realised that my head isn't always a positive place to be.
Anyway, because of Jason Manford and his tweets (I don't follow, I was told) and my relatively disorganised hard drive at home here it is, straight cut and paste of the original, "Landlines" is a Land Registry wide publication, "Sports Desk" an internal website. My facial hair from 2000 is best forgotten.
Movember
Anyway, because of Jason Manford and his tweets (I don't follow, I was told) and my relatively disorganised hard drive at home here it is, straight cut and paste of the original, "Landlines" is a Land Registry wide publication, "Sports Desk" an internal website. My facial hair from 2000 is best forgotten.
Movember
Whilst reading a ‘Movember’
article I was reminded something I had published in issue 51 of Landlines about
my diagnosis and treatment for testicular cancer in 2000. A largely light
hearted take on my surgery accompanied by a dreadful photo, obviously I was
ahead of the Movember game with dodgy facial hair. Here’s an update from the bike
obsessed contributor to Sports Desk …
‘Lefty’ as I referred to my troublesome
testicle back then was removed along with a tumour in September 2000, in March
2001 I completed a sponsored swim for Macmillan Cancer relief which was the
prompt for the original article, In 2002 I swam again for Macmillan, this time
with a team of 5 friends for 24 hours, we swam something like 80km again raising
money for Macmillan. Looking back I’d suggest that my treatment had left me
reasonably fit but obviously a little daft.
In November 2002 I was back
in hospital where ‘righty’ was removed, giving me exclusive access to the ‘un-bollock’
club. Between the two charity swims I’d commented on a lack of energy at one of
my regular checkups and that I had little need to shave anymore, the beneficial
side effect of that being the gradual demise of that daft beard. I’d put it
down to one of those things and only mentioned it as an aside, the team in
Oncology picked up on what I’d said and checks were scheduled revealing that my
testosterone levels were off the bottom of the scale, ‘righty’ wasn’t working
and I was soon taking artificial testosterone every day.
The effect of the artificial
drug was that ‘righty’ started to shrink, this set alarm bells ringing in the
hospital and righty was immediately removed, the risk of a new tumour went off
the chart so back to theatre.
Initially my drug hit was
delivered by two big adhesive patches that would only stick to a hairless bit
of skin, shaving was back on the cards again with space needed on legs and
chest. When removed each patch left a very red mark, at the pool it looked like
I’d been attacked by an octopus with a shaver!
With energy levels restored life
continued, I’d met someone while training for swim number 1, we’d got talking
in a sauna when I was in my budgie smugglers, my daughter was coping with her
odd father and his strange ways. I started to ride more and more and further
afield, with mountain bike trips to Spain, the Alps and Scotland and walking
trips all over Europe.
Drugs, particularly the non
recreational types, aren’t always easy to live with and eventually my skin
could no longer cope with the adhesive’s demands on it. While that was sorted I
went through a series of pretty bad patches but with some help from family,
friends, and the medical profession and a significant change to my medication
got through it.
There are very few good
things about a daily dependency on steroids and testosterone is horrible stuff.
Without it my health suffers, I have no energy, no ‘zing’, constantly exhausted.
With the right amount, life is nearly normal. With too much comes
uncontrollable rage, depression, baldness, mood swings. Been there, done them
all, got the scars and t-shirts. There are unseen risks too, with too little
I’m at risk of early onset osteoporosis, with too much my bones will grow and
fuse together. Taking it hurts like hell sometimes and I have to be very
careful around other people as I cannot let them come into contact with it. To
quote a specialist, “… it’s the strongest hormone known to man, you need to be
aware of that.” I’m still medically
interesting, even 12 years on.
Is this a positive story for
the Movember page? Reading it back I’m not sure. I’m still scared, less than I
was but it still sneaks up on me. Medication affects how I live and there are
some things I cannot do but that’s no more than inconvenience. On balance life
has improved but the ‘journey’ as the media like to refer to life post
treatment has changed me, it’s improved me as a person but not for any near
death type reflection, more that before this I was a moody sod, I’d use
stronger words in the real world but this is an official publication. I suspect
I had quite high levels of natural testosterone. Now I am less so. I think.
I’ve had a good life since
diagnosis in 2000, I got married to the lady from the sauna who didn’t laugh at
my Speedos, I’ve met some amazing people who I’m proud to call friends, I’ve
had trips to parts of the world I never thought I’d see, I’ve ridden bikes in
amazing places and watched the sunset in locations that took my breath away. I’ve lived and I’ve lived well. And I intend
to do so for a long time yet.