Time to Talk: Re-visiting My Movember Journey on International Men's Day
- Published on
- 19 November 2025
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A few years ago, I wrote a blog about why I became a Movember Community Ambassador. With International Men's Day looming this week, I wanted to revisit that conversation, reflect on my journey, and connect it to the crucial role of empathy and patient-centred care in today's healthcare world.
The Knock That Changed Everything
In the early years of my career as a professional yachtsman, I was fit and healthy, regularly engaged in sports - a lifestyle that stood me in good stead for the physical demands of sailing and for what was about to come.
The December before my diagnosis was emotionally tough; my mum’s partner had succumbed to cancer. Health-wise, I felt fine. I was living and working in Southampton, running, and hitting the gym regularly. It wasn’t until January that I felt something was truly wrong. I'd had a slight pain in my right testicle a month or so prior, which I’d dismissed as a knock from sailing, but this time, the discomfort was permanent and tender to the touch.
Fortunately, my girlfriend at the time, a GP herself, insisted I go to the doctor.
Two Diagnoses, One Masterclass in Communication
The process, from my GP appointment in Newcastle to getting the results, was incredibly quick. The news came like a hammer blow: I had Teratoma testicular cancer in my left testicle.
Looking back, I was remarkably relaxed about the news - perhaps not fully grasping the seriousness, or maybe because I knew, deep down, that my fitness and health would carry me through.
Crucially, on both occasions - the first diagnosis and the second recurrence a year later - the person delivering the news did so with such care and empathy. This experience profoundly shaped my understanding of clinical communication.
I use this experience now in the delivery of professional courses, talking specifically about the power of silence and empathy. This was certainly the case with my second diagnosis: the Clinical Lead Nurse gave a masterclass in delivering bad news over the phone, giving me the space I needed to process it.
The Power of Support and Self-Care
I didn’t want my parents to come to the hospital with me, so friends took me on both occasions, providing that necessary, immediate support.
The support I received wasn't just from friends and family; the urology team was outstanding. They always took the time to explain the next steps and answer my questions. My view was simple: I would look after my own fitness (mental and physical), and they could look after my post-surgical care and testing.
The clinical team was great at adapting to my schedule, even when I was based abroad on yachts. This flexibility, combined with the huge support from my crew mates, captains, and owners, kept me going.
The Longest Journey is Over
Just over 16 years ago, the greatest feeling arrived: an email from the hospital confirming I was officially all clear. A huge weight had been lifted. I emerged from my cabin with a huge smile and celebrated with my crew mates that night. I've travelled a lot around the world, but this - the longest journey of my life - was finally over, for the second time.
I want to use this moment to say thank you to everyone who supported me. The ability to talk to people, or at least knowing that support was there, was a huge part of me remaining mentally strong.
I also believe I was hugely lucky to have my diagnosis early, forced to go to the doctors by someone who cared. As men (and arguably increasingly women), we are too quick to dismiss a small health niggle that can lead to bigger problems.
If you have any doubt about your health, please don’t delay in getting expert advice! And remember to ask questions - the clinicians are there to help.
🎗️ On the Lessons of a Cancer Journey
One of the other community ambassadors recently did a talk for Macmillan Cancer support about his fight with pancreatic cancer. His answer to a question was perfect and made me think after reading it and you know what, I couldn’t agree more with him: My testicular cancer diagnosis was meant to be.
Here is what he wrote on his summary of the day:
“One interesting question from the audience was if I had a magic wand, what would I change about my cancer diagnosis; what would I want to be different? My answer was, after some deliberation with the inquisitive member of the audience, basically, "nothing." I explained to the somewhat startled crowd that I am fitter, stronger and healthier than I have ever been. I am, currently, cancer free. My cancer diagnosis was meant to be; no need to ask for a magic wand to change one solitary thing. The moment I was diagnosed with prostate cancer my life was perfect and consequently my life remains, and shall always be, perfect.”
While my experience and perspective are different, I share the sentiment that the adversity forged a stronger person.
💡 A Call for Year-Round Care
As we mark International Men's Day, let's not let the conversation fade on November 19th.
The journey I described highlights the critical importance of a patient being truly seen and heard. You can read more about my initial motivations and how a personal story can shape clinical practice in my blog: The Power of Personal Stories and Patient-Centred Care
Our commitment to patient-centred care - especially from a male perspective - shouldn’t just be something we talk about every November but something at the heart of our practice 12 months a year. This is a topic I explored in depth here: Patient-Centred Care 12 Months a Year.
If you or your team are looking to refine the essential skills I highlighted above, please explore our relevant CPD courses:
Breaking Bad News: Learn the power of empathy and silence in sensitive communication.
Empowering Patients: Focus on patient engagement and shared treatment decisions.