1.Diagnosis & Immediate Aftermath

During the summer of 2024, I began to notice subtle but unusual changes in my body. After even the lightest runs or a casual game of football, I’d develop ulcers in my mouth—something that had never happened before. Then came the moment that changed everything.

One day, after being intimate with my wife, I was struck by a sharp, lingering pain—like I’d been kicked in the groin. It wasn’t just discomfort; it radiated into my stomach and lasted for half a day. That’s when I discovered it: my right testicle was rock hard and nearly double the size of the left.

A few days later, I saw my GP. She examined me, compared both sides, and without hesitation said, “It could be cancer.” I was stunned. She added, “Or it might be a benign cyst—we’ll need radiology to confirm.” But the catch? Radiology could take up to 10 days. They were busy.

That evening, I went home and told my wife. I also called my boss. I couldn’t hold back my tears. She was incredibly kind—her brother had gone through something similar—and she told me to take the rest of the day off.

Later that night, I messaged my friend Duncan, who had previously been diagnosed with testicular cancer. He became a godsend.
“Have you found a lump?” he asked.
“Yip,” I replied.
He told me, “Once the radiologist confirms it, if it's cancer, they’ll need to remove it. Take the first surgery spot they offer—don’t wait.”

That was the first time it really hit me: I might have to get my testicle removed. I hadn’t seen this coming.

The radiology appointment came five days later—five of the longest days of my life. During the scan, I watched the images on the large screen while the radiologist calmly took measurements and photos. No emotion, just routine. But I knew.

That evening, I received a call from a urologist at Waikato Hospital. He asked if I could come in the next day. I went with my wife. Sitting in the Urology Department waiting room, I heard my name: “Mr Charlie Hancy.”

I followed the doctor down the hallway and met a young Asian surgeon who, I’d later find out, would perform the surgery. I sat down in the office. The doctor didn’t waste time.

“Well, Mr. Hancy, it looks like you have testicular cancer. The good news is that if we act quickly, this type of cancer has a very high cure rate.”
He paused, then asked, “What are you doing in the morning?”

“I don’t know—what am I doing?” I responded, half in shock.

“We have a surgery spot available at 7 a.m. Would you like to take it?”

“Yes, please. Book me in,” I said without hesitation. I never imagined I’d be so eager to have a testicle removed, but I was focused. Thanks to Duncan’s guidance, I was mentally prepared for whatever came next.

That night, I called my closest friends, my family, and my boss. Most were in disbelief. To them, I was one of the fittest, healthiest guys they knew.

In just a few days, my world had changed. I was diagnosed with testicular cancer, and by morning, it would be gone. That night, I cried—but I stayed focused and strong, ready to face whatever was coming next.