Testicular Cancer is sometimes dismissed as one of the more trivial Cancers. A highly treatable and survivable cousin to the others; a quick and effective surgical procedure followed by tough regime of chemo. A rosy future of routine checkups and blokey missing-ball jokes then follows; Cancer fading into a sepia sunset.
A tough-gig is how a friend reacted when I told him about my Testicular Cancer, and somehow this simple turn of phrase has stayed with me. I can’t say it offers any comfort, but I like it all the same.
My tough-gig happens to be packed-full of atypical symptoms and physical eruptions, of close-encounters with death and moments where all dignity is lost. There are the encounters with people and gestures that have renewed my faith in humanity. And there are the inevitable dealings with the welfare system and it’s apparatchiks – where a baser side of humanity is revealed.
I’m well enough now to lift a pen and type, albeit sporadically in-between chemo doses. And I’m eternally grateful to my Partner and friends, the doctors , nurses and hospital staff who have got me this far.
And I thank you, stranger or friend, for reading this post. It means a lot to have companionship during this tough-gig.
