Ian’s Story
My C-Story for Men’s Health November 2023
The Lump
In December 2014 I found the lump. I was lying in bed and I got my wife to feel it as well, as you do. And she said that doesn’t feel right. So me being me, I went straight to the doctor. A few days later, towards to end of December now, I went back to the doctors. He told me that for now there was nothing to worry about, he’d write some notes and that I’d get a letter from the Good Hope Hospital and we’d take it from there. We went into the Christmas and New Year period and I could still feel it there, but it wasn’t hurting. I kept thinking to myself, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a lump. It felt a bit like a hazelnut. The letter came through.
Coincidences
Unfortunately, at the same time my dad was diagnosed with cancer. I spoke with my mom who told me the news over the New Year period. It was around the same time my letter came through. I didn’t say anything about my letter because my dad was at home, in a hospital bed, being treated for cancer at the same time. He’d been diagnosed with asbestosis cancer. My letter asked me to come in for an appointment in early January 2015 at Good Hope Hospital, in Sutton Coldfield.
I spoke to my mom again just before that, I still hadn’t told her that I’d had this letter. She’d rang to tell me that dad was going in to see the consultant. So I asked her when and she said the 8th of January. It was a really weird moment, as I thought to myself “that rings a bell”, but I still didn’t tell her anything to do with what I was going through. Not saying that I was going through anything. At the time I just thought they’d give me some tablets, some cream, and then that would be it.
After the call I went upstairs into my bedroom drawer to find my letter, so I could double check when my appointment was. It said the 8th January. So as it happened, my appointment was in the afternoon. My dad’s appointment was in the morning. I didn’t take anybody with me. I set off to Good Hope, took the letter with me, parked up and as I was just about to go through the revolving doors somebody shouted “Ian!”
I turned around and it was my mom. So I walked towards her and she said “what’s up, what are you doing here?” I just said “it’s just a water infection, you know down there, nothing to worry about.” She then went on to say, she wanted to hold a family meeting later today, could I make it. So I asked if dad was ok, she said “yeah, he’s just getting into the taxi.” I said I’d see her later, we said our goodbye’s and I walked into the hospital. I told them my name, and then got called in.
All I Need Is A Tablet
I met with a really, really nice consultant. He asked me, “what’s your background?” I guess he was trying to make me feel at ease. So I told him I was into football. I used to play. He asked if I was still playing now. I said, “no I’m not.” He then moved the conversation on, asking “what are the symptoms?” I took him through them. He asked “does it hurt?” I replied, “no.” He then asked me to get on the bed, and to drop my trousers. So he could check me over. He spent a couple of minutes checking me over, then he went over to his computer. He said to me, “you’ve got a suspected Tumour.” I went “no, no, no, it’s alright doc I haven’t. All I need is a tablet.”
He said “no, no, no.” So I went “cream will do, surely? It’s nothing to worry about is it?” He went on to say “you’ll now go away” he pointed at me, “and have blood tests, an ultrasound, then you’ll come back to me in a few hours.”
At this point as was a little bit in shock, but thought nothing of it. So I went off to wait for my blood tests. I rang my wife, that’s when I started to get upset. It hit me then. About what I had. I was still really unsure – tumour. What did that really mean? Then as I went in for my ultrasound, that was it. I just wanted to know what it was straight away. After the ultrasound all I remember is a guy with a beard. That’s all I remember. He was putting bits of jelly around me, but all I can remember is his beard. I was gone. I was away with the fairies. I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like.
It’ll Take As Long As It’ll Take
After the ultrasound I went back to see the consultant, it would have been perhaps forty minutes or so later. He turned around, before I’d even sat down, and said to me “like we said earlier, it is a tumour for definite. And we think we’ve caught it early, really early.” And all I could think about was work, as I managed people you see.
So all my questions were around work, so he said to me “why are you talking about work? You should be thinking about your health. Do you want any more kids?”
But all I kept asking was:
1. How long am I going to be off work?
2. When can I go back to work?
And he said, “look, it’ll take as long as it’ll take. I can’t give you any deadlines, but don’t get worried about work. Your health is more important. And your family.” He went on to say “you’ll get a call, in the next day or so, from my PA and she’ll book you in. You could be in towards the end of the week.” Bearing in mind it was a Tuesday. All I could think was, “I don’t think I can, I manage people.” It pays the bills, doesn’t it. So I toodled off, still in shock. Got home, told my wife and the rest of the family. Phoned my mom and told her. She was in bits. She asked again if I was going over for the family meeting at 8pm, I said “yes.” When I got there I said hello to everyone, all the family was there.
Three Months To Live
We sat down, and my dad said he’d been to see the consultant today at Good Hope Hospital, the same as me. He’d been given three months to live. So the day I found out I had a tumour, was also the day I found out my dad had three months to live.
A Second Opinion
I didn’t actually quite believe what I was hearing from the consultant I saw. So went back to the doctors. I told work, and they were really, really good. Co-directors said to take as much time off as I need, they’d do a handover. So I went to work as normal up to a certain date. But I genuinely thought that that day wasn’t going to come because I really didn’t believe what I was hearing. I decided to go back to the doctor. I went back to the doctor, my local GP, and said “you’ve obviously seen the notes. I want… a second opinion.” He said that would be no problem, would I mind paying for it? I said “yes, no problem whatsoever.”
He then said “the only problem is, Ian, it might be four different walls at another hospital, but it will be the same consultant.” The consultant I’d seen was at the top of his game. So I would have been wasting my money. That same afternoon, it was Thursday of the same week so a lot had already happened in the space of a few days, I got a call from the consultant’s PA asking if I could come in the next day. My response was “no, no chance.” So I waited a week and went in the following Friday, it must’ve been around the 18th January.
My Operation
I went in as a daycare patient, in and out in a day. I was dropped off to Good Hope Hospital really, really early. My operation was in the afternoon, just after dinner. I was in for a good couple of hours, then I was taken into the ward. When they woke me up I felt as sick as a pig. I felt really, really bad. The lump was on my testicle.
So the operation was to remove the whole testicle. They did ask me if I wanted to get rid of my other testicle. But I thought there was no point. Then they asked me, did I want a ghost testicle. But again, I thought what’s the point? For me it was a no, no thank you.
I Didn’t Even Know Where I Was
Anyway, back on the ward they woke me up. They wanted me to get up straight away and start walking. They offered me a cup of tea and asked, did I want some toast. I’m really fussy about people buttering my toast. But they insisted it wasn’t a good idea to have dry toast. So I ended up saying no. I’ve walked a short distance of about four metres and back. It took ages. I was as sick as a parrot, honesty. I couldn’t really walk, I had a zimmer frame. I told them “I’m not going home tonight. You’ve got to find me a bed.” So they rang around trying to find me a bed. But I must’ve fallen asleep in that time. When they woke me back up again. They needed me to walk again. Then again about 45 minutes later, they made me walk again, but for a longer distance. I still felt rubbish, then I fell asleep again.
At the start I didn’t even know where I was. Next thing I knew, I woke up to a tap on my shoulder, it was my wife. She was there with a wheelchair and she said, “we’re going home.” Getting into the car I still felt as sick as a parrot. I got home and my wife helped me to the top of the stairs. At that moment, I felt right as rain. Right as rain. That sickness just went away. I had my tea in bed. It was unbelievable. Waking up the next day though, was really, really painful. I couldn’t go to the toilet I was walking like John Wayne.
It’s A Waiting Game
Once you’ve had the big-C, you have to go for MRI’s and x-rays regularly. The Wednesday after, I had to go in for them to check if the operation had been successful. Then I had to wait about two weeks for the results. Those two weeks it’s a waiting game. To me it felt like a year. In-between that time, I’d go to the toilet in the middle of the night thinking about family, children, wife, mom, dad, all that. Thinking “oh my god, am I going to be here?” I felt like I was constantly waiting to hear if it had gone.
I was very, very lucky actually. I was grade one. The minimum is grade one and the maximum is grade five. I’d caught it really, really early. If it had gone up to my lungs, it would’ve been a grade five. I received a phone call from an 0121 number and I just knew it was the hospital. Now, usually when you get a phone call from the hospital earlier than your date of going back, unfortunately, 9 out of 10 times it is a case of going back in to have a chat. It was the consultant’s receptionist. She asked me to tell her why I thought she was calling, so I explained. She then said, she was calling just to make sure I’d had my letter from the hospital and I was thinking, “what, is that it?”
My Chemo
I went back a couple of weeks after my operation to have the x-rays and MRI. The doctor turned around and said “I’m pleased to say, there’s no traces. You will have one bout of Chemo, we’ll get you booked in. Then you’ll be handed over to Queen Elizabeth, Birmingham, and that’s where you’ll be looked after for the next five years, until you’re in remission.”
I had the Chemo. I had that much going into me, I had to ask for it to be slowed down. When you walk in you see different ages, sizes. You just think, tunnel vision, it’ll just be older people. Absolutely not. There were also different stages very visible. Mine didn’t take too long actually, having my Chemo. After that I started to have really bad back pain, I couldn’t really sleep, etc. At the start, I had check-ups every quarter. The idea was it would drop to six monthly, then yearly, over a cycle of five years.
So after the Chemo, it was my quarterly check-up. My back was killing me and really, really hurting. I couldn’t stand up straight. I had been given a male nurse who was looking after me. So if I wasn’t happy about anything, or I felt fatigue I could contact the nurse. At my first quarterly check-up I met with my consultant. He said everything was good and explained to me where I was in my recovery.
I couldn’t help but point out to him “you’ve got a bed over there. I need to lie down now, I’m absolutely exhausted.” He told me to see how it went over the next couple of days and then give the nurse a call. On the way home I thought, you know what I’ll nip into the GP. When I got there, I told him I wasn’t feeling very well. I pointed out the cancer, told him he could see it from the notes, was there anything he could do to help ease the pain?
He said he’d give me a blood test straight away. Now the doctor gave me the blood test, not the nurse. It was immediate. So I did the blood test. He then sent me to the hospital to have an x-ray. The next morning I had a phone call at half past 8 from my doctor. “You’ve got a marker” he said “blue flashing lights are on the way.” I told them not to send the blue lights, I’d get my wife to take me.
You’re Lucky To Be Here
When I got into the ward they were ready for me. As I walked in my back was bent over. Doubled-back in pain. There were three guys in the ward and they asked what was wrong, so I told them. I was drugged up, and after about four hours of being there I started to feel bit better. Then I was sent for another x-ray, MRI and about 12 o’clock at night the porter came to get me.
When I woke up the next morning the doctor was leaning over me. “You’re lucky to be here” she said “you’ve got two blood clots on your lungs from the Chemo.” I was in there for a few days. I felt rough. I had to take blood thinners to drain it all out. It was from the Chemo. It’s a common side effect, high risk of it happening. But doesn’t happen to many.
Everything I’ve shared so far must’ve been within the space of about 5 weeks. From being diagnosed on the 8th January through to early March. Unfortunately in March my dad passed away. It wasn’t three months, it was more like three and a half months. He’d died within 24 hours of going into the hospice. I kept going for my quarterly check-ups. And it was then, just after I’d be told “You’re lucky to be alive.” I felt like I had to do something different with my career. I remember a couple of the sales team ringing me at the time to ask about their new cars, somebody asked about bonuses, and I just thought to myself, “I can’t do this anymore. I’ve got to
do something else.”
After Having Cancer
That was that, and the past four and a half, five years have felt like a dream. It’s all happened so quick. I set up in 2018. After having cancer it took me about two and a half years before I did actually set up my own business. I was employed, so I had to leave. I didn’t want to leave over night. And if it wasn’t for the big-C I probably wouldn’t have set my own business up. I was very lucky. I’m very, very lucky to be here. If it wasn’t for the cancer, I always come back to the fact, I wouldn’t have my business. I always comes back to that. I’d played with death.
I understand what people go through when they’ve got cancer, I feel like I can talk to people quite easily about what they’re thinking, what their thoughts are early doors. What you’re thinking when you go to the toilet in the middle night. The thoughts you have before you actually go and see the consultant and what he says to you. I know all of those conversations. For me, I wanted to take that gamble. I wasn’t going to die from setting up my own business. I kept thinking to myself, I can do this and I can do that. Then an opportunity came up. I was asked to take on a contract. Then another contract. Then I joined BNI. I was great at organising and project managing. Then I got asked to do a HMO. I’ve done sixteen since!
Men’s Health
I’ve always supported the cause and donated. But I’ve never really got into telling my story until now. I did access a cancer supports centre a couple of times, in Sutton Coldfield, and that helped me. I was able to talk to others who had been where I was. At the time, I didn’t want to burden the rest of my family because my dad was very very ill. I didn’t ask any of my mates to come around, I said I’d be fine. I’m always reflective of how lucky I am. In the back of my mind, I knew, that if what I was doing to better myself, didn’t work out I could always go back to what I was doing before.
Amongst many things, there’s two key things I’ve learned.
1. I don’t like negative people around me, and
2. In business I can wait for stuff, I don’t chase for stuff. My view is if it happens it happens.
When I got to the football if my team loses I leave it in the car now.
Before the big-C, I probably would have gone off the rails.
It’s Only Tests
I had someone say to me recently that they were going for some tests. My response was, and to anybody asking would be, to “remember. It’s only tests. Work through it and take each day as it comes.” As long as you talk to the right people and are around the right people, you’re going to be fine. I’m not pleased that I had cancer. But when I look back, it really did give me another lease of life. I wished my dad was here, he’d have been really proud of me. He would be over the moon. I was lucky, because my wife has always had a flexible career so she was already setup to support me, and fit her job around any care I needed.
Get Checked
As someone who’s been thought it, I’ve got the testicular cancer ribbon as a tattoo and I wear my pin badge. The thing for me is testicular cancer, you don’t really hear too much about. Prostate
cancer, in the past, you hear a lot more about.
Nowadays, thanks to awareness on the sports channels, like talk sport for example, they are talking more and more about the two cancers, testicular and prostate, which is fantastic. My advice, would be to go get checked.
Make sure you check yourself. If you feel anything that’s concerning to you go to your local GP, talk to somebody about it, talk to me. It’s not always frightening and there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. Take every step, step-by-step. Don’t get for overthinking anything. Believe me, I’ve been there. Go early. Go sooner rather than later.
Ian