Diagnosis saved me – now I can get on with teenage life

IT’S incredible to think how much has happened in the space of a year – from a life as a teenager where I didn’t even know I had cancer to one where everything revolved around the treatment to get rid of it.

Two major surgeries, months of harsh chemotherapy, losing my hair and weeks spent in hospital – a lot has happened.

In the run-up to testicular cancer being diagnosed on December 18 last year, I was very ill for about 10 months.

I’d been getting sent home from school twice a week with migraines. I’d also experienced frequent recurrent pain in my testicles and was suffering from hot flushes.

I kept thinking the symptoms would go away by themselves. I was a 16-year-old kid who was healthy and fit so there was not a chance anything that serious could be wrong with me.

But it got to the stage where it was having a big impact on my performance in school. That was when I knew I had to go to the doctor.

The day after visiting the GP I went to Ninewells Hospital for an ultrasound scan.

I couldn’t take anyone with me because of Covid restrictions but I was fine with that because it still didn’t cross my mind there was something seriously wrong.

Straight after the scan, I was sent to the urology department where they did about four blood tests in the space of an hour. That’s when I started to panic. It was excruciating sitting there for around five hours on my own, not knowing what was going on.

By this time, I knew it had to be something pretty bad.

When I got told it was testicular cancer, so many things went rushing through my head.

I only knew what I’d seen in the movies, about people losing their hair.

I worried about how my girlfriend Alesha would react too.

The doctor told me I had cancer in one of my testicles and I’d need emergency surgery the next day.

I was given a leaflet to read about the operation and then got taken to a private room so I could phone my family and friends.

There was no time to process so I just didn’t grasp the severity.

I knew my mum would freak out so I called my sister and told her to go round to my mum’s and wait for another call.

When I told my mum, she burst into tears so I was glad my sister was there to comfort her.

I’ve tried my hardest to stay objective.

Maybe that was a strange reaction but it’s the way I coped with the shock – gather as much information and listen to what the experts say.

I’ve always been somebody that really trusts science, so I had a lot of faith in what the doctors told me needed to happen.

Now I’m on the other side of treatment, I have a lot of emotional catching up to do.

For a lot of people, surgery for testicular cancer means they’re cured.

I spent Christmas at home recovering last year, thinking that was it for me.

But in January I started having stomach pains and scans showed the cancer had spread.

This meant I had to have chemotherapy, something which hit me really hard.

It was brutal – blistering feet, painful hands where I couldn’t open even packets of crisps or hold a book, constant nausea, extreme fatigue, and aching in my joints and bones.

The physical discomfort was hard to bear.

And there was another shock. When I finally got to the end of the chemo, I was told I needed a specialist type of surgery in Glasgow to remove lymph nodes.

I was there for three weeks due to complications.

This was when I was at my lowest. I was so bored staring at white walls all day.

I listened to music on my phone and slept as much as possible to pass the time.

I’m just so glad my mum was able to visit me every day. This has made us even closer.

Even on my worst days, she still made me laugh.

Alesha has also been such a great source of support.

We met at high school, at Harris Academy, and she’s not only my girlfriend, she’s my best friend too.

I think speaking openly can go a long way to making it easier for others to face what can be so difficult.

I’d urge anyone who’s worried about their health to go and get checked.

The doctors are the experts and they’re there to help.

Even if it involves a private part of your body, there’s no