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Finding Out
I was diagnosed with
cancer in November 2003 whilst on a trip to Australia for a mate’s
wedding and to watch the rugby world cup. The holiday was top drawer and
I’d recommend Sydney to anyone who fancies a cheeky pint or two and
wants to have a giggle. We’d finished our first leg of the trip in
Sydney and headed up to Brisbane for England Vs. Wales and the wedding.
But this wedding wasn’t your standard, “rock up, get pissed and go home”
affair. Oh no, it was a full blown Asian one which lasted for days - an
amazing experience.
It was the actual
wedding night when I was a pissed idiot and caught myself right in the
jewels. A simple of case of being a drunken fool and trying to dance
bangra style, well it was an Asian wedding after all. Clearly my bangra
skills are somewhat dubious, especially combined with drink I was an
accident waiting to happen. God it hurt. Not one to be a boring git, I
persevered for a bit, but then decided a trip to the hospital was
required.
So there I am pissed
out of my head, sat in the Royal Brisbane Hospital waiting room, with
people who had been bitten by snakes and stuff, far more serious than a
sore ball! I was thinking about leaving but checked with the nurse and
was seen straight away. The doc had a look and was adamant that
everything was fine. This is where it gets lucky - in Australia, with
any testicular injury, they take a blood test to double check, and you
get an STD check for free. So off went my blood, and Paul, the doc, took
my mobile number and said he’d text if anything came back in the
results.
Rather shaken up and
pretty scared about the whole thing. I hadn’t really thought about the
STD thing until I left the hospital but was hoping everything would be
fine. And, as for the cancer side of things that didn’t even come into
it - especially as the doc had checked and said it was fine. I went
back to the wedding and caught up with all the guys. I mentioned it to
Shaf, one of the boys, but as for everyone else I just went on like
normal.
On the way to
England Vs. Wales the next day my phone bleeped………WANK………It was from
Paul saying that I needed to come back for an ultrasound on Monday. He
didn’t say what was wrong but I knew it must have been cancer because of
the ultrasound you don’t normally get a one of those for a helping of
the clap. Not the best way to enjoy 80 minutes of rugby I can tell you.
We won, which was some compensation, but I wasn’t really altogether with
it.
On Monday it was
back to the hospital for the ultrasound. After drinking a pint of
horrible aniseed shit (to help with the scan) the radiographer did a
full search and when he started moving all over my body I thought ‘good
god here we go, things aren’t looking too brilliant’. Unfortunately the
guy couldn’t tell me what was wrong, as he said a doctor would have to
compare these results with the bloods for full analysis .Brilliant,
another wait.
Tuesday in the
Brisbane hospital and I’m getting pretty messed up about the whole
thing. I’ve now convinced myself I’ll be flying back early and have
given my remaining rugby tickets to my mates. So I’m in the waiting room
again and I get called to see another doc. I find out that I have a
tumour in my left testicle and should fly home as soon as possible for
treatment. I was in a state of shock and came out the hospital in tears.
I told Shaf and then decided it would be a good time to tell my folks.
Word of advice, don’t tell your mum you’ve got cancer when you’re on the
other side of the world, it doesn’t make for a good call.
It was later that
day when I was walking through Brisbane just trying to piece things
together when I was stopped by a guy who was selling smiley faces for
terminally ill kids. I bought a smiley face and then everything started
falling into place. Here I am on the other side of the world having a
trip of a lifetime, watching the rugby, catching up with old friends,
staying at the coolest hotels in the world (Palazzo
Versace), oh and
a small matter of Deano getting married. The terminally ill kids have
just been dealt a bad hand. It makes you think; there’s always someone
and - in my case probably millions and millions of people - in a worse
position.
So time to stop
being reactive and start dealing with the problem and get things sorted.
It got even better when I phoned my flat mate. I’ll never forget his
line after I told him “Oh shit……Chin up hey mate!!” It was only later
that I found out he’d just been told his grandfather had passed away -
what a wonderful day!! NEXT
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