2. Treatment: Surgery and Chemotherapy

Orchidectomy – The First Step

Orchidectomy (also spelled orchiectomy) is the surgical removal of one or both testicles, most commonly performed in cases of testicular cancer, prostate cancer, severe trauma, testicular torsion, or as part of gender-affirming surgery.

For testicular cancer, an inguinal orchidectomy is the standard approach. This involves making an incision in the lower abdomen to remove the affected testicle, which helps prevent cancer from spreading into the lymph nodes.

The morning of my surgery, I actually slept surprisingly well—considering what was ahead. I arrived at the hospital around 6 a.m., checked into theatre, and was prepped for surgery. I was hooked up to a line, dressed, and marked—“Right leg, right testicle”—a precaution to ensure surgical accuracy. The surgeon then went over the procedure one last time.

Before heading into the operating theatre, the surgeon asked if a group of medical students could observe the operation. I didn’t mind. After all, I’d be asleep, and if my situation could help someone learn, I was happy to oblige.

I also got asked what I wanted to do with the testicle. I half-joked, “What am I going to do—put it in a jar?” I told them to dispose of it. I’d have no use for it going forward.

In the operating room, I remember seeing the group of students at the far end. Final checks were made, and the anaesthetic was administered. The next thing I remember was waking up.

Post-Surgery Recovery

I woke up an hour or two later to the news that the procedure had gone well. Once I was able to move and prove I was alert, I was discharged—all within a few hours. My right testicle had been removed through an incision in my groin, stitched up, and supported by a strange contraption that looked like a cross between a nappy and sumo-wrestler underwear.

At home, I was couch-bound—binging Yellowstone for the rest of the day. I’d taken the week off on annual leave, which turned out to be perfect timing.

I was amazed at how quickly the pain subsided. The day after surgery, I could barely walk. But by day three, I was able to get up off the couch and walk relatively normally. The most uncomfortable part was going to the toilet—thanks to the tight-fitting post-op underwear, and honestly, I was scared to look at the “new arrangement” down there. The anaesthetic also seemed to slow my digestive system.

By day five, I was walking more confidently, but I knew to avoid lifting or straining. My Urologist warned me that tearing the incision or developing a hernia could delay potential chemotherapy, so I followed instructions carefully.

The removed testicle was sent to pathology for histology. While I waited for results, I had support from my friend Duncan, who kept reminding me: “Take it easy, bro.” But I wanted to stay strong, so I kept active with bodyweight exercises—push-ups, body squats, lunges, TRX pulls—and plenty of walking. I was even able to start light jogging after a few weeks.

A Fortunate Call

During this period, I was still playing over-35s football, and our team manager Louis—who also happened to be an insurance broker—called to check in. He said, “Hey bro, your insurance policy covers you for any cancer-related diagnosis. It’s part of your accelerated trauma cover.” He offered to handle the paperwork for me.

Three weeks later, after histology confirmed the cancer, I received a significant insurance payout—enough to cover my salary for a year if needed. That moment was a blessing. I now tell everyone: get insurance. Trauma cover can make a world of difference when life throws something like this at you.

Preparing for Chemotherapy

During the waiting period, I had a check-up with the hospital nurse and a follow-up with my urologist. He examined the healing scar and gave a positive update: “Everything looks good. You’ll now be referred to an oncologist. Your bloods and CT scans will guide the next steps. But remember—testicular cancer is highly curable, with a 90%+ cure rate. You’ll be fine.”

My biggest question at that appointment was: “Will one testicle be enough to produce testosterone?”
The urologist reassured me: “Absolutely. One testicle can produce enough testosterone for all your body’s needs.”

Family, Fiji, and a Puppy

Soon after, we took a long-planned family holiday to Fiji. I’d booked it a year prior, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a chance to unwind with my kids and reset. I’d also promised them a puppy—something I’d spent two years convincing my wife to agree to. When we returned, we brought home Cookie, a salt-and-pepper miniature schnauzer. He was a joyful distraction for the whole family.

Chemotherapy: The Unexpected Twist

Once we got back, the oncologist called and scheduled a 1.5-hour meeting for my wife and me. He explained the treatment plan: one cycle of B.E.P. chemotherapy—Bleomycin, Etoposide, and Cisplatin. One intensive week, followed by two weeks of recovery with ongoing Bleomycin. I felt confident—my friend Duncan had breezed through chemo, so I expected something similar.

As I was leaving, the oncologist said: “I’ll need you to get some blood tests and a CT scan today.”

A few days later, I got the call.

“Mr. Hancy,” he said, “I'm sorry, but we need to extend your chemo to 9 weeks. The markers—alpha-fetoprotein and HCG—are still high, and the CT scan shows the cancer has spread with several enlarged lymph nodes.”

I felt my heart sink. The game had changed.

I updated my family, friends, and boss. The fight had entered a new phase.