Confirmation

A couple of days later, early in the morning, I received a phone call. It was from my GP surgery asking me – or more to the point – telling me that my doctor wanted to see me later that morning and an appointment had been made for me.

Now that’s not the sort of invitation that you turn down. In fact I don’t think that I’ve ever received such a call before in my life, so I waited a bit, got ready and headed off to the doctors.

Trying not to anticipate the conversation, I found myself holding out in my head that she’d tell me that actually there’d been a mistake and the ultrasound showed there was just something simple going on and a quick fix would have me on way in life again without too much interruption.

The “next patient” bell went and my name flashed up onto the LCD screen, interrupting the stop-smoking adverts that constantly flash by. My GP, Doctor Philbin, is one of the kindest and most sincere people you could hope to meet – regardless of being in a doctor’s surgery.

I sat down, we went through the pleasantries, and she told me that the ultrasound had been sent back over from the hospital, where the results had been validated. She told me plain and simple – exactly how I like information – that it was (more than likely) testicular cancer.

What type, if there was any spread and a myriad of other details, it wouldn’t be possible to tell at this stage. She paused and I looked at her. I asked to have a look at the ultrasound report myself so I could read the language and terminology and we walked through the detail together. Now I’m not sure whether it was because the enormity of what I’d just been told hadn’t sunk in, or whether it’s because I truly believe in a certain philosophy, but I accepted the fact with grace and humour.

Let’s call this philosophy “what is, is”. The best way to describe it is to imagine you’re in a traffic jam and you’re late for work. You cannot change the fact that you’re going to be late for work, but you can make a conscious choice to chew your steering wheel and arrive late and angry, or you can sing along to the radio and arrive late, but stress free.

Thus I found myself knowing that I could not change a diagnosis of cancer, but I was totally in control of my reaction to the diagnosis and my attitude from here on in. Doctor Philbin asked me how I was and what I needed to know, or ask of her.

We talked through next-steps, and likely outcomes and I went home to figure out what to do next. Work was on my mind as I’d taken the day off to get to the appointment (I work an hour’s drive away from Milton Keynes) and I needed to break the news to work and begin to make plans there.

Then there are people to tell – my partner, my family, my friends… so much to do and my mind telling me to do it all, right here and right now!

Before I left, I hugged my doctor and thanked her. The compassionate and careful way she handled telling me, combined with her diligent handling of my response and questions really helped. I got home and just sat.

In a bit of shock at a final diagnosis, then got on with a normal day of work, making lunch, as if nothing had changed in my world; Very surreal.

This post was originally posted on April 14

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Testicular cancer: the facts

I would like to include some technical stuff to give people some more information on cancer.

Below is an extract from the Macmillan cancer website and it’s vitally important to frame the diary as not to scare anyone into not seeking treatment

Around 2,000 men a year are diagnosed with testicular cancer in the UK. It is not known exactly what the causes are, but research is going on all the time to attempt to establish them. Testicular cancer is rare but it’s the most common cancer in men between the ages of 15-45. Nearly all men are cured particularly when it’s found and treated early.

Testicular cancer is more common in white men than African-Caribbean or Asian men. It occurs more commonly in wealthier social groups. The reasons for this are not known. Men with a father or brother who had testicular cancer are slightly more at risk of developing it (although the risk is still small).

In people with early-stage testicular cancer, surgery alone may cure the cancer. But often, treatment with chemotherapy or radiotherapy is also given to reduce the risk of the cancer coming back. These treatments are successful in curing the cancer in over 95% of men (more than nine out of ten).

For more information on all kinds of cancer, and how to check yourself for signs or symptoms see www.macmillan.org.uk or indeed see your GP if you have any worries at all!

This post was originally posted on March 31

For more Milton Keynes Citizen blogs visit www.miltonkeynes.co.uk

Discovery

One Monday in late October 2009, something didn’t “feel right” – there was a tiny little lump; it felt like a lentil – a tiny bump, so small, seemingly insignificant. You could miss it if you didn’t check extremely carefully. That discovery wrecked Monday – my mind went everywhere from “it’s just one of those things” to “it’s probably just some sort of spot” and finally to a crazed “jeez, it’s full-on cancer and I’m going to die”. Being relatively level headed, I knew I needed to get it checked out, so booked an appointment with my doctor.

At this point, I’ve got to ask any guys reading this two questions. First is “when did you last check yourself” and secondly, “why is there a sense of squeamishness about guys doing this”? I spoke to friends about my appointment and while all of them were interested in my well-being, half of them cut the conversation short. Talking about your bits with other guys it seems is a taboo subject, not ‘blokey’ enough unless it’s in the context of how your bits were used on Friday or Saturday night if you got lucky!

Back to the doctors – I have a great practice in Walnut Tree Medical Centre and everyone there I know I can really trust and rely on. Seeing my doctor, she confirmed that she could feel a lump too and we should arrange to get it looked at more closely. She also reassured me that it could be a range of things and testicular cancer is relatively rare – but in any event, treatment is good these days.

Going home from the doctors, I felt a little disappointed that I didn’t have a definitive conclusion as to what was going on, but things take time in this life. I got an appointment set within 3 days for an ultrasound at MK Hospital and waited. Those 3 days were a nightmare, I couldn’t concentrate on work at all but talking with my partner helped immensely. We discussed what it could be – what we’d do if it was the worst case scenario. At least if it was found early, treatment would be more effectively, surely? Most importantly, we realised just how much we love and support each other, even without noticing it day-to-day.

The ultrasound was as you’d expect – just like checking a baby during pregnancy. At the ultrasound, the technician that performs the scan can only comment on the features shown on the screen – they’re not a doctor so can’t give you a diagnosis. I wasn’t ready for that – so I suddenly realised that I’d have to wait another week to see my consultant and find out what was really going on.

The scan showed the lump on my right testicle. From the side on, you could see it, dark in colour on the screen and with a raised profile. Front on, it was an angry dark patch, circular, taunting me. The technician explained, when I asked him to, what he could see. There was increased blood flow to the area of the lump, plus some calcification – harder tissue. Both of these things raised alarm bells in my head. We see these features also in breast cancer. I left, confused, lonely, barely able to concentrate to drive home and still without any diagnosis.

I got home and when I saw my partner, I just collapsed into tears. Uncontrollable floods of tears. Suddenly I realised that having your family and friends around me was going to be the only way to cope with things. I knew that I was going to get a diagnosis of cancer when I saw my consultant.

This post was originally posted on March 26

For more Milton Keynes Citizen blogs visit www.miltonkeynes.co.uk

An Introduction

By means of an introduction, so you know why you should read the rest of the story, I’m Adam. I’m your average kind of guy living in Milton Keynes. I’m 33, got a nice job as a marketing manager. I’ve got a house, car, partner. I get involved with my community – I’m a parish councillor for Walton Parish Council. I also have testicular cancer.

As guys we’ve all seen flurries of news stories and awareness campaigns in the news and press about cancer. The most visible being Cancer Research’s “Race for Life” and probably breast cancer is one of the first things that springs to mind. I think most healthy people just go about living our lives, not really thinking about what happens when we get sick or ill and these campaigns help focus our minds. Certainly, Lance Armstrong’s inspirational story of his experience with testicular cancer helped a whole new generation of men understand that they should keep as much an eye on their own health as anyone else.

About 3 years ago, I had a friend of mine who found a lump on his testicle. Fortunately for him, it was a benign cyst (just a build up of fluid) that could be drained. But his find and what we hear about people such as Lance Armstrong convinced me to check myself on a regular basis. You know how, at the start of the week at work, we get our diaries in shape, check our to-do list, set up meetings and do our admin? Well checking for any lumps became part of that Monday morning routine – of course in the shower, not at my desk at work!

This blog post was originally posted on March 26